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THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 MILTON. 
 
-ip,fi^arit^ ,^yt^(U^^^d^ 
 
 Of ^VSfW^- f/iM^ 
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE 
 JOHN MILTON, 
 
 WITH CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 O F 
 
 PARADISE LOST. 
 
 B Y 
 WILLIAM H A I L E Y, Efq. 
 
 B A s I L : Printed and fold by James Decker. 
 Strasburgh: Sold by F. G. Levrault. 
 
 17 9 9- 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2011 witii funding from 
 
 Princeton Tiieological Seminary Library 
 
 littp://www.arcli ive.org/details/lifeofjolinmiltonOOIiayl 
 
TO 
 
 THE ABBE DELILLE 
 
 THE VIRGIL OF FRANCE 
 
 THIS NEW EDITION 
 
 OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF THE BRITISH HOMER 
 
 IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY THE EDITORS 
 
 P. J. OTTO , J. DECKER , F. G. LEVRAULT. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO THE 
 
 Rev. JOSEPH WART ON, d. d. ^c. 
 
 MY PLEASANT AND iZSPECTAB^-E FRIEND! 
 
 I 
 
 N prefixing your name to this volume , I feel 
 and confefs the double influence of an affectionate 
 and of an amibitious defire to honor you and 
 myfelf Our loft and lamented Friend Gibbon 
 has told us, I think very truly, in dedicating a 
 juvenile work to his Father, that there are but 
 two kinds of Dedications, which can do honor 
 either to the Patron or the Author — the firft ari- 
 fmg from literary efteem, the fecond from per- 
 fonal affeilion. If either of thefe two characleriftics 
 maybefufficient to give propriety to a Dedication, 
 I have little to apprehend for the prefent, which 
 has certainly the advantage of uniting the two. 
 
 The kind and friendly manner in which you 
 commended the firft edition of this Life might 
 
II DEDICATION. 
 
 alone liave induced me to infcribe a more ample 
 copy of it to that literary veteran, whofe applaufe 
 is fo juflly dear to me. I have additional induce- 
 ments in recolle6iing your animated and enlight- 
 ened regard for the glory of M i L T o N. It is 
 pleafmg to addrefs a" fympathetic friend on a fub- 
 je61 that interefts the fancy and the heart. I re- 
 member , with peculiar gratification , the liberali- 
 ty and franknefs , v/ith which you lamented to 
 me the extreme feverity of the late Mr. Warton, 
 in defcribing the controverfial writings of j^lilton. 
 I honor the rare integrity of your mind , my 
 candid friend, which took the part of injured ge- 
 nius and probity againft the prejudices of a bro- 
 ther, eminent as a fcholar, and entitled alfo , in 
 many points of view , to your love and admira- 
 tion. I fympathize with you moft cordially in 
 regretting the feverity to which I allude, fo little 
 to be expeded from the general temper of the 
 critic, and from that affedionate fplrit, \vith which 
 he had vindicated the poetry of Milton from the 
 mifreprefentations of cold and callous aufterity. 
 But Mr. Warton had fallen into a miflake , which 
 has betrayed other well-difpofed minds into an 
 
DEDICATION. HI 
 
 unreafonable abhorrence of Milton's profe ; I 
 mean the miltake of regarding it as having a ten- 
 dency to fubvert our exifting government. Can 
 any man juftly think it has fucli a tendency, who 
 recollects that no government, hmilar to that 
 wliich the Revolution eflablilhed for England , 
 exiRed ^^•hen Milton wrote. His impaihoned yet 
 difmterefted ardor for reformation was excited 
 by thofe grofs abufes of pouer, which that new 
 fettlement of the flate very happily corre61ed. 
 
 Your learned and good-natured brother, my 
 dear friend, was not the only man of learning 
 and good-nature, who indulged a prejudice, that 
 to us appears very extravagant , to give it the 
 gentlefl appellation. A literary Paladine ( if 1 
 may borrow from romance a title of diftin^tion to 
 honor a very powerful hiflorian ) even Gibbon 
 himfelf, whom we both admired and loved for 
 his literary and for his focial accomplifliments, 
 furpaiTed, I think, on this topic, the feverity of 
 Mr. Warton, and held it hardly compatible with 
 the duty of a good citizen to re-publifli , in the 
 prefent times , the profe of Milton , as he appre- 
 hended it might be produ6tive of public evil. 
 
IV DEDICATION. 
 
 For my o\*'n part, although I fincerely refpe61ed 
 the highly cultivated mind that harboured this 
 apprehenhon, yet the apprehenhon itfelf appear- 
 ed to nie fomewhat fimilar to the fear of 
 Falftaff, when he fays', " I am afraid of this 
 " gunpowder Percy, though he bj dead." As the 
 profe of Milton had a reference to the diflra6ied 
 period in which it arofe, its arguments, if they 
 could by any means be pointed againft our exift- 
 ing government, are furely as incapable of inflict- 
 ing a wound , as completely dead for all the pur- 
 pofes of hiftility, as the noble Percy is reprefented, 
 when he excites the ludicrous terror of Sir John : 
 but while I prefume to defcribe the profe of Mil- 
 ton as inanimate in one point of view, let me have 
 the juftice to add, that it frequently breathes fo 
 warm a fpirit of genuine eloquence and philan- 
 thropy, that I am perfuaded the prophecy of its 
 great author concerning it will be gradually ac- 
 compliflied ; its defeats and its merits will be more 
 temperately and juftly eflimated in a future age 
 than they have hitherto been. The prejudices fo 
 recently entertained againft it, by the two emi- 
 nent writers I have mentioned, were entertained 
 
DEDICATION. V 
 
 at a period when a very extraordinary panic 
 poflefTed and overclouded many of the rnofl ele- 
 vated and enlightened minds of this kingdom — a 
 period when a retired ftudent could hardly amufe 
 himfelf with perufmg the nervous republican wri- 
 ters of the laft century, without being fufpe^led 
 of framing deadly machinations againft the mon- 
 archs of the prefent day; and when the principles 
 of a Jacobin were very blindly imputed to a truly 
 Englifh writer of acknowledged genius, and of 
 the pureft reputation, who is, perhaps, of all 
 men living, the moft perfectly blamelefs in his 
 fentiments of government, morality, and religion. 
 But, happily for the credit of our national un- 
 derftanding, and our national courage , the panic 
 to which I allude has fpeedily paffed away , and 
 a man of letters may now, I prefume, as fafely 
 and irreproachably perufe or reprint the great re- 
 publican writers of England, as he might tranflate 
 or elucidate the political vifions of Plato a writer 
 whom Milton palTionately admired, and to whom, 
 he bore, I think, in many points , a very ftriking 
 refemblance. Perhaps they both poffeiTed too 
 large a portion of fancy and enthufiafm to mak® 
 
VI D E D I C A T I O K. 
 
 good practical ftatefmen; the vifionaries of public 
 virtue have feldom fucceeded in the management 
 of dominion , and in politics it has long been a 
 prevailing creed to believe, that government is like 
 gold, and miift not be fafliioned for extenfive ufe 
 without the alloy of corruption. But I mean not 
 to burden yon, my lively friend, with political 
 refkc^fions, or with a long differtation on the great 
 mafs of Milton's profe; you, ^vhofe ftudies are fo 
 various and extenfive, are fufficiently familiar 
 with thole lingular cumpohtions; and I am not 
 a little gratihed in the afFurance that you think as 
 I do, both of their blemiflies and their beauties, 
 and approvie the ufe t'.at I have made of them 
 in my endeavours to elucidate the life and charac- 
 ter of rheir author. Much as we refpe61ed the 
 claflical erudition and the tafle of your lamented 
 brother, I am confident that we can neither of 
 us fubfcribe to the cenfure he has palled on the 
 Latin fly le of Milton, Vv'ho, to my apprehenfion , 
 is often mod admirably eloquent in that language, 
 and particularly fo in the palfage I have cited 
 from his character of Bradfliaw ; a chara^ier in 
 which I liave kno\vn very acrimonious enemies 
 
DEDICATION. VII 
 
 to the name of the man commended very candid- 
 ly acknowledge the eloquence of The eulogifl. 
 Some rigorous idolaters of the unhappy race of 
 Stuart may yet cenfure me even for this difpalr 
 fionate revival of fuch a character; but you, my 
 liberal friend to the freedom of literary difculTion, 
 you will fusgeft to me, that the minds of our 
 countrymen in general afpire to Roman magnani- 
 mity, in rendering juftice to great qualities in 
 men, who were occafionally the obje61s of public 
 deteflation , and you join with me in admiring 
 that example of fuch magnanimity , to which I 
 particularly allude. Nothing is .more honorable 
 to ancient Rome, than her generohty in allowing 
 a flatue of Hannibal to be raifed and admired 
 within the walls of the very city, which it was 
 the ambition of his life to diftrefs and deftroy. 
 
 In emulation of that fpirit , which delights to 
 honor the excellencies of an illufiriousantagonift, 
 I have endeavoured to preferve in my o\vn mind, 
 and to exprefs on every proper occafion, my 
 imlhaken regard for the rare faculties and virtues 
 of a late extraordinary biographer , whom it has 
 been my lot to encounter continually as a very 
 
VIII DEDICATION. 
 
 bitter, and fometimes, I ttiink, an infidious enemy 
 to the great poet, whofe memory I have fervent- 
 ly wiflied to refcue from indignity and detraction. 
 The afperity of Johnfon towords Milton has often 
 fliuck the fond admirers of the poet in various 
 points of view; in one moment it excites laugh- 
 ter, in another indignation; now it reminds us of 
 the weapon of Goliah as defcribed by Cowley ; 
 
 " A fword fo great, that it was only fit 
 
 " To cut off his great head that came with it;" 
 
 now it prompts us to exclaim , in the words of 
 an angry Roman: 
 
 *' Nee bellua tetrior ulla eft 
 " Oiiam fervi rabies in libera colla furentis*" 
 
 I have felt , I confefs , thefe different emotions 
 of r^entment in perufing the various farcafms of 
 the auftere critic againfl the obje^l: of my poetical 
 idolatry, but I have tried, and I hope with fome 
 fuccefs, to correal the animofity they murt natu- 
 rally excite, by turning to the more temperate 
 Avorks of that very copious and admirable writer. 
 
DEDICATION. IX 
 
 particnljirly to his exquifite paper in the Rambler 
 (N° 34) on the deaths and afperity-of literary 
 men. It is hardly pollible , I think, to read the 
 paper I have mentioned without lofmg, for fome 
 time at leaft , all fenfations of difpleafure towards 
 the eloquent, the tender moralift, and refleding, 
 with a fort of friendly fatisfa^iion , that, as long 
 as the language of England exifts , the name of 
 Johnson will remain, and deferve to remain, 
 
 Magnum & memorabile nomem 
 
 As long as eloquence and morality are obje^s 
 of public regard, we muft revere that great mental 
 phyfician , who has given to us all , infirm mor- 
 tals as the beft of us are, fuch admirable prefcrip- 
 tions for the regimen of mind , and we lliould ra- 
 ther fpeak in forrow than in anger , \vhen we are 
 forced to recolle6^ , that , like other phyficians , 
 however able and perfect in theory, he failed to 
 correct the infirmity of his own morbid fpirit. 
 You, my dear Warton, whom an oppofite tem- 
 perament has made a critic of a more airy and 
 cheerful complexion , you are one of the beft 
 
X DEDICATION. 
 
 witnefles that I could pofTibly produce, rf I had 
 any occafion to prove that my ideas of Johnlon's 
 malevolent prejudices againft Milton are not tl:e 
 offsprings of a fancy equally prejudiced itfelf 
 againft the great author, whofe prejudices I have 
 prefumed to oppofe; you, my dear friend , have 
 heard the harfh critic advance in converfatron an 
 opinion againft Milton , even more fevere than 
 the many detraftive farcafms with ■^\Iuch his life 
 of the great poet abounds; you have heard him 
 declaim againft the admiration excited by the poe- 
 try of Milton , and affirm it to be nothing more 
 than the cant (to ufe his own favorite phrafe) 
 of affefied fenfibility. 
 
 I have prefumed to fay, that Johnfon fome- 
 times appears as an infidious enemy to the poet. Is 
 there not fome degree of infidious hoftility in his 
 introducing into his diciionary, under the article 
 Sonnet, the very fonnet of Milton, which an ene- 
 my would certainly chufe, who wifhed to repre- 
 fent Milton as a writer of verfes entitled to fcorn 
 and derifion? You will immediately recolle^i 
 that I allude to the fonnet which begins thus : 
 
 " A book was writ of late called Tetraciiordon." 
 
DEDICATION. XI 
 
 The fonnet is, in truth, contemptible enough. 
 if we fnppofe that MiUon intended it a? a fcrioiis 
 compofition ; but I apprehend it was an idle lufus 
 poeUcus , and either meant as a ludicrous parody 
 on fome other fonnet which has funk into oblivion, 
 or merely Avritten as a trifling paftime, to fliow 
 that it is pofTible to compofe a fonnet with words 
 moft unfriendly to rhyme. However this may 
 be , it Avas barbarous furely towards Milton (and , 
 I might add, towards the poetry of England) to 
 exhibit this unhappy little produ<^ion, in fo 
 confpicuous a manner, as a fpecimen of Englifli 
 fonnets. Yet I perceive it is pofTible to give a 
 milder interpretation of Johnfon's defign in his 
 difplay of this unfortunate fonnet; and as I moft 
 fmcerely wifh not to charge him with more male- 
 volence towards Milton than he really exerted , I 
 will obferve on this occafion , that as he had little, 
 or rather no relifh for fonnets, which the ftern lo- 
 gician feems to have defpifed as perplexing trifles 
 { dijfici/es nugs) he might only mean to deter 
 young poetical ftudents from a kind of verfe that 
 he difliked , by leading them to rem.ark , how 
 the greateft of our poets had failed in this petty 
 
XII DEDICATION. 
 
 compolition. You, who perfedly know liow 
 much more incHned I am to praife than to cen- 
 fure, will give me full credit for my fincerity in 
 faying, that I wifii to acquit Johnfon of malevo- 
 lence in every article where my reafon will allow 
 me to do fo, I "have been under the painful ne- 
 ceflity of difplaying continually, in the following 
 work , the various examples of his feverity to 
 Milton. Nothing is more apt to excite our fpleen 
 dian a ftroke of injuftice againfl an author whom 
 we love and revere; but I fhould be forry to find 
 myfelf infe6led by the acrimony which I was 
 obliged to difplay, and I fhould be equally forry 
 to run into an oppofite failing, and to indulge 
 afpirit of obloquy, like Mrs. Candor, in the 
 School for Scandal, with all the grimaces of affect- 
 ed good nature. I have fpoken, therefore my 
 ovyn feelings, without bitternefs and without timi- 
 dity. I cannot fay that I fpea' of Johnfon ^'' fine 
 ira ^ ffndio^' as Tacitus faid of other great men 
 (very differently great!) for, in truth, I feel to- 
 wards the fame obje6\ thofe two oppofite fources 
 of prejudice and partiality : as a critical biogra- 
 pher of the poets he often excites my tranfient 
 
DEDICATION. XIII 
 
 indignation ; but as an eloquent teacher of mo- 
 rality he fills me with more lalting reverence and 
 affe(ftion. ^ 
 
 His lives of the poets will probably give birth , 
 in this or the next century, to a work of literary 
 retaliation. Whenever a poet arifes with as large 
 a portion of fpleen towards the critical writers of 
 paft ages, as Johnfon indulged towards the poets 
 in his poetical biography, the literature of England 
 will be enriched with " the Lives of the Critics," 
 a work from which you , my dear Warton, will 
 have little to apprehend ; you, whofe elTay teaches, 
 as the critical biographer very truly and liberally 
 obferved , " how the brow of criticifm may be 
 " fmoothed, and how flie may be enabled, with 
 ** all her feverity , to attract and delight." 
 
 Yet to fliow how apt a writer of verfes is to ac- 
 cufe a profeft critic of feverity, we may both re- 
 colle(S^, that when I had occafion to fpeak of 
 your entertaining and infl:ru61ive EfTay on Pope , 
 I fcrupled not to confider the main fcope of it a 
 little too fevere ; and in truth , my dear friend , 
 I think fo ftill ; becaufe it is the aim of that 
 charmiiig Effay to prove , that Pope poffelTed not 
 
XIV DEDICATION. 
 
 thofe very high poetical talents , for which the 
 world, though fafficiently inclined to difcover 
 and magnify Iiis defeds. had allowed him credit. 
 You confider him as the poet of reafon , and in- 
 timate that " he ftooped to truth, and moralized 
 his fong ," from a want of native powers to fup- 
 port a long flight in the higher province of fancy. 
 To me, I confefs, his Rape of the Lock appears 
 a fufficient proof that he poffeffed , in a fuper- 
 lative degree, the faculty in which you ^vould 
 reduce him to a fecondary rank; he chofe, indeed, 
 in many of his produ(flions , to be the poet of 
 reafon rather than of fancy; but I apprehend his 
 choice was influenced by an idea ( I believe a 
 miflaken idea) that moral fatire is the fpecies of 
 poetry by which a poet of modern times may 
 render the greateft fervnce to mankind. But if in 
 one article you have been not fo kind, as I could 
 wifli , to the poet of morality, 1 rejoice in recoU 
 lectins, that you are on the point of making him 
 confiderablc amends, and of fulfilling a predic- 
 tion of mine , by removing from the pages of 
 Pope a great portion of tlie lumber with \vhich 
 they were amply loaded by Warburton. You 
 
D E n I C A T I O N. XV 
 
 will foon , I tnifl; , prove ro the literary \vorld . 
 as you perfe611y proved to me feme years ago, 
 that the poet has fuffered not a little from the 
 abliirdities of his arrogant annotator. It is hardly 
 poUible for a man of letters , ^vho affectionately 
 reneratcsthe name of Milton, and recollects fome 
 expreiTions of Warburton concerning his poetry 
 and his moral character , to (peak of that fuperci- 
 lious prelate without catching fome portion of his 
 own fcornful fpirit : you will immediately perceive 
 that I allude to his having beftowed upon Mil- 
 ton the opprobrious title of a time-ferver'\ Do 
 you recolle^l:, my dear learned critic, extenfive 
 us your ftudies have been; do you recollect, in 
 
 * With what peciijiar piopriety Warburton applied 
 this name to Milton, the reader v.'iii beft judge, who re- 
 collects the humorous Eutler's very admirable character 
 of a time-ferver , v.hich contains the following pafTage: 
 " He is very zealous to fhov,- himfelf, upon all occafions, 
 " a true member of the chuTch for the time being, and 
 " has not the leaft fcruple in his confcience againft the 
 " doctrine and difcipline of it, as it ftands at prefent, 
 " or fhall do hereafter , unfight unfeen ; for he is refohed 
 " to be always for the truth , which he believes is never 
 " fo plainly demonftrated as in that c!:aracter that fays 
 *•' *■ it is great ^ and prevails / and in that fcnfe only fit 
 
XVI DEDICATION. 
 
 the wide range of ancient and modern defamation^, 
 a more unpardonable abufe of language? Milton, 
 a poet of the moft powerful, and, perhaps the 
 moft independent mind that was ever given to a 
 mere mortal, infulted with the appellation of a 
 time-ferver ; and by whom ? by Warburton, whofe 
 writings, and whofe fortune — -but I will not copy 
 the contemptuous prelate in his favorite exercife 
 of reviling the literary chara£^ers, whofe opinions 
 were different from his own ; his habit of indulg- 
 ing a contemptuous and dogmatical fpirit has al- 
 ready drawn upon his name and writings the na- 
 tural punifhment of fuch verbal intemperance ; 
 and the mitred follower of his fame and fortune, 
 who has lately endeavoured to prop his reputa- 
 tion by a tenderly partial , but a very imperfe6^ 
 life of his precipitate and quarrelfome patron , 
 has rather leflened, perhaps , his own credit , than 
 mcreafed that of his mafter, by that afFe(Sled cold- 
 nefs of contempt with which he defcribes, or 
 
 " to be adhered to by a prudent man, who will never 
 " be kinder to truth than fhc is to him ; for fuffcring is 
 " a very evil effeSi , and not likely to proceed from a 
 " good caufe." Butler's Remains, vol. ii. p. 220. 
 
 rather 
 
DEDICATION. XVII 
 
 rather disfigures, the illuflrious chaflifer of Warbur- 
 tonian infolence, the more accomphfiied critic, of 
 \v]iom yon eminent fcholars of Winton are very 
 jnflly proud; I mean the eloquent and graceful 
 L O AV T H. 
 
 But as I am not fond of Hterary ftrife, however 
 dignified and diftinguiilied theantagonifts may be, 
 I will haften to extricate myfelf from tliis little 
 group of contentious critics ; for it muft be mat- 
 ter of regret to every fmcere votary of peace and 
 benevolence to obferve , that the held of litera- 
 ture is too frequently a field of cruelty, which al- 
 moft realizes the hyperbolical expreffion of Lucan, 
 and exhibits 
 
 " Plus quam civilia bella ; " 
 
 where men, whofe kindred fludies fhould human- 
 ize their temper, and unite them in the ties of 
 fraternal regard , are too apt to exert all their fa- 
 culties in ferocioufly mangling each other; where 
 we fometimes behold the friendfliip of years dif- 
 folved in a moment, and converted into furious 
 hofliU|;y , which , though it does not endanger , 
 
XVIII DEDICATION. 
 
 yet never fails to embitter life ; and perhaps the 
 fource of fuch contention , 
 
 " tetenima belli 
 « Caufa-." 
 
 inftead of being a fair and faithlefs Helen , is no- 
 thing more than a particle of grammar in a dead 
 language. O that the fpleen-correciing powers of 
 mild and friendly ridicule could annihilate fuch 
 hofUlities! — Cannot you, my dear Warton, who 
 have the weight and authority of a pacific Neftor 
 in this tumultuous field, cannot vou fusseft ef- 
 fe(^ual lenitives for the genus irritabile fciiptonnn. 
 The celebrated Saxon painter Mengs has, I think, 
 given us all an admirable hint of this kind in 
 writing to an ingenious but petulant Frenchman, 
 •who had provoked him by fpeaking contemp- 
 tuoufly of his learned and enthufiaftic friend Win- 
 kelman. Se io pofTedefii il talento di fcriver bene 
 (fays the modeft painter) vorrei efporre ragioni, 
 e fatti , e infegnar cofe utili fenza perdermi a con- 
 tradir veruno poiche mifembra, the fi pofTan fare 
 buoni libri fenza dire che il tale , o il tal foggetto 
 s' inganna; e finalmente fe ella mipuo dimoflrare. 
 
DEDICATION. XIX 
 
 che la maldlcenza fia cofa onefla , allora io con- 
 verro the importa molto poco il modo , con cui 
 fi attacca la riputazione del proffimo: e aggiungo 
 che il farcafmo e V infulto fono la peggior maniera 
 di mormorare, e di biafimare donde rifulta fempre 
 il maggior danno a chi lo ufa. — -Opere di Mengs, 
 tomo piimo , p. Q43. 
 
 Thefe admonitions are excellent, and want only 
 the good example of the monitor to make them 
 complete; but Mengs, unfortunately, in his pro- 
 fefhonal writings, has fpoken of Reynolds in a 
 manner that grofsly violates his own do6irine; fo 
 difficult is it, my good Doctor, to find a pacific 
 preacher and his pra6iice in perfect harmony 
 with each other. 
 
 To feeling and fervent fpirits there can hardly 
 be any provocation more apt to excite afperity 
 of language, than an infult offered to an obje<Slof 
 their efieem and veneration. In writing upon Mil- 
 ton , and thofe who , to my apprehenlion , have 
 infulted his name with contumelious feverity , I 
 may have been hurried beyond the bias of my 
 temper, which is, I truft, neither irafcible nor 
 cenforious; but I will imitate feme well meanimg 
 
XX DEDICATION. 
 
 catholic writers, and making you , my dear War- 
 ton, my inquifitor as well as my patron, I will 
 here very honeflly fay to you , " Si quid dixerim 
 " contra fpiritum caritatis evangeliccE indicium 
 " ^;olo. " 
 
 Let me now haiten to apologize to you , as 1 
 think I ought, for fuch deficiencies as 3'our nice 
 difcernment cannot fail to obferve in the Avork I 
 addrefs to you. You remember that Plutarch, the 
 amiable prince of ancient biographers , lias vejy 
 juftly mentioned the advantage arifing to a wri- 
 ter from refiding in a city amply furniilied witli 
 books; — it is my lot, you know, to live in a 
 little fequeflered village , and I chufe to do fo for 
 the reafon which attached the good-natured Plu- 
 tarch to his native Cheronaea, that it may not be- 
 come lefs. Had it fuited me to devote much time 
 and labor to extenfive refearches in the public 
 and private libraries of London, it is pofFible that 
 I might have difcovered fome latent anecdotes re- 
 lating to Milton; yet after the patient inquiries 
 of the intelligent and indefatigable Dr. Birch, and 
 after the hgnal difcovery of your more fuccefsfui 
 brother, little novelty could be expeded to reward 
 
DEDICATION. XXE 
 
 the toil of (ncli inveftigation ; and perhaps a writer 
 too eager to make new difcoveries on this beaten 
 ground , might be hurried by fuch eagernefs into 
 the cenfurable temerity of Peck the antiquarian, 
 who, in his memoirs of the great poet, has affixed 
 the name of Milton to a portrait and a poem that 
 do not belong to him. 
 
 Though my work has been executed in a reti- 
 red village of England, my inquiries have extend- 
 ed far beyond the limits of our own country, 
 by the aid of fome intelligent and obliging friends, 
 who had the kindnefs to fearch for me the g;reat 
 
 o 
 
 libraries of Paris and Rome, in the hope of ^'if- 
 covering fome negle£ied compofition , or latent 
 anecdote, that might be ufeful to a biographer 
 of Milton. The fuccefs of thefe refearches has not 
 been equal to the kindnefs and the zeal of the in- 
 telligent inquirers ; but an unexpected favor 
 from a literary friend , who is known to me only 
 by his writings, has enabled me to thro\v, per- 
 haps, a new ray of light on that inviting fubjecS 
 of conjedure, the real origin of Milton's greateft 
 performance. 
 
XXri DEDICATION. 
 
 In the differtation, Avhich I have annexed to 
 this hfe fef the poet , you will find fome account 
 of an Italian drama on the inhabitants of Paradife, 
 which, though it rifes not to the poetical fpirit 
 of Andreini, may have had fome influence , I ap- 
 prehend, on the fancy of Milton. You will alfo 
 find , that I have followed your example , in re- 
 commending your old acquaintance Andreini to 
 the notice of the public. He happened to engage 
 my attention , when the health of my revered 
 friend, Mr. Co^vper, allowed him to be my gueft ; 
 and, after our more ferious morning fludies , it 
 afforded us a pleafant relaxation and amufement • 
 to throw fome parts of the Adamo into Englifli , 
 in a rapid yet metrical tranflation. In this joint 
 work, or rather paftime, it ^vould be needlefs, 
 if it were pofhble, to diftinguifli the Hues of the 
 united tranflators, as the ver^on had no higher 
 aim than to gratify the curiohty of the Englifli 
 reader , without afpiring to praife. A very differ- 
 ent character is due to that verfion of Milton's 
 Latin poetry, which my excellent friend hasfin- 
 ifhed with fuch care and felicity, that even from 
 the feparate fpecimens of it, with which this life 
 
D E D 1 (. A T ION. ' XXlir 
 
 is embelliflied , you, my dear Warton, and every 
 delicate judge of poetry, will, I am confident, 
 efleem it an abfolute model of poetical tranflation. 
 For the honor of Milton, and for that of his 
 moft worthy interpreter, 1 hope that the whole 
 of this admirable performance may be foon im- 
 parted to the public , as I trufl that returning 
 health will happily reftore its incomparable author 
 to his fufpended fludies; an event that may affe6t 
 the moral intereft and the mental delight of all 
 the world — for rarely, very rarely indeed , has 
 heaven beftowed on any individual fuch an am- 
 ple, fuch a variegated portion of true poetical ge- 
 nius, and never did it add greater purity of heart 
 to that divine yet perilous talent, to guide and 
 fan^^ify its exertion. Thofe \vho are bed acquaint- 
 ed with the writings and the virtues of my inefti- 
 mable friend, mufi; be moft fervent in their hopes, 
 that in the courfe and the clofe of his poetical 
 career he may refemble his great and favorite 
 predecelfors , Homer and Milton; their fpirits 
 were cheered and illuminated in the decline of 
 life by a frefli portion of poetical power; and if 
 m their latter productions they rofe noj to the 
 
XXIV DEDICATION. 
 
 full force and fplendor of their meridian glory, 
 they yet enchanted mankind v\ith the fvveetners 
 and ferenity of their defcending light. 
 
 Literature , which Cicero has fo eloquently def- 
 cribed as the friend of every period and condition, 
 of human exiftence , is peculiarly the friend of 
 age; a truth of which you, my dear Warton, are 
 a very lively illuftration — you , who at a feafon of 
 life when unlettered mortals generally murmur 
 againft the world , are miniftering to its inftruc- 
 tion and its plealure by continuing to write with 
 temper , vivacity, and [jrace. 
 
 That you may long retain and difplay this 
 happy aflemblage of endowments, fo rare hi a 
 critical veteran , is the cordial willi of many, and 
 particularly the willi of your very hncere and af- 
 feflionate friend, « 
 
 W. H. 
 
 Eartham^ October 29. 1795. 
 
T H E 
 
 LIFE 
 
 O ¥ 
 
 MILTON. 
 
TUB 
 
 L I F K 
 
 F 
 
 MILT ON. 
 
 Part i. 
 
 l' eta precorse, e la spekanza; e presti 
 
 PAREANO I FIOR, Q_UANDO N' USCIRO I FRUTTI. 
 
 TASlKf. 
 
 T 
 
 H E chara£ier of Milton has been fcru- 
 tinized with all the minutenefs of invefti ration , 
 which oppofite paffions could fiiggefl. The viru- 
 lent antagonift and the enraptured idolater have 
 purfued his fleps with equal pertinacity : nor have 
 we wanted men of learning and virtue, who, 
 devoid of prejudice and enthufiafm, both in poli- 
 tics and in poetry, have endeavoured to weigh 
 his merits exadly in the balance of truth and 
 reafon. 
 
 What new light then can be thrown upon a 
 life, 'A'hofe incidents have been fo eagerly collected, 
 and fo frequently retailed P What novelty of 
 remark can be expecled in a review of poems, 
 whofe beauties and blemilhes have been elabo- 
 rately examined in critical differtations, thatalmoft 
 
4 THE T, I F E OF M I I. T O N'. 
 
 rival in excellence the poetry tliey difcnfs ? AfTu- 
 redly but little ; yet there remains , perhaps , one 
 method of giving a degree of intereft and illuftra- 
 tion to the life of Milton, which it has not hi- 
 tlierto received; a method which his acconipliflied 
 irieiid of Italy, the Marquis of Villa, in fome 
 meai'ure adopted in his interefting life of Tallo ; 
 and which two engaging biographers of later date, 
 the Abbe de Sade and Mr. Mafon , have carried 
 to greater perfection in their refpec^lve memoirs 
 of Petrarch and of Gray. By weaving into their 
 narrative feledlions of verfe and profe from the 
 various writings of thofe they wiflied to comme- 
 morate, each of thefe affeftionate memorialifls. 
 may be faid to have taught the poet he loved" to 
 become his own biographer ;" an experiment that 
 may, perhaps , be tried on Milton with the hap- 
 piefl efFe61! as in his works, and particularly in 
 thole that are at prefent the leaft known, he has 
 fpoken frequently of himfelf. — Not from vanity , 
 a failing too cold and low for his ardent and ele- 
 vated mind; but, in advanced life, from motives 
 of juflice and honor, to defend himfelf againft 
 the poifoned arrows of flander; and, hi his 
 younger days, from that tendernefs and fim- 
 plicity of heart , which lead a youthful poet to 
 make his own aftec^lions and amufements the 
 chief fubjecis of his fong. 
 
 - The great aim of the iubfequent account is to 
 render full and perfecl: juflice to the general cha- 
 ra6ler of Milton. His manners and call of mind, 
 
THE J, I F E OF MILTON. 5 
 
 in various periods of life, may appear in a new 
 and agreeable light, from the following colledlion 
 and arrangement of the many little fketches, 
 which hisown hand has occafionally given ns. of his 
 palRons and pnrfuits. Several of thcie , indeed, 
 have been fondly affembled by Toland or Ri- 
 chardfon; men, who, different as they were in 
 their general fentiments and principles , yet fym- 
 pathized completely in their zeal for the renown 
 of Milton; delighting to dwell on his charafter 
 with " that ihadow ol friendlliip , that comipla- 
 ^' cencyand ardor of attachment, which, as Pope 
 " has obferved in fpeaking of Homer , we natu- 
 " rally feel for the great geniufes of former time." 
 — But thofe who have endeavoured to illuflrate 
 the perfonal hiftory of the great Englifli Author , 
 by exhibiting paJIages from fome of his negleded 
 works , have aimoft confined themfelves to felec- 
 tions from his profe. 
 
 There is an ampler field for the ftudy of his 
 early temper and turn of mind in his Latin and 
 Italian Poetry: here the heart and fpirit of Milton 
 are difplayed with all the franknefs of youth. I 
 feled what has a peculiar tendency to fliow, in 
 the cleareft light, his native difpofition, becaufe 
 his chara6ier as a man appears to have been great- 
 ly miftaken. I am under no fear that the frequency 
 or length of fucli citations may be expofed to cen- 
 fure, having the pleafure and advantage of pre- 
 fenting them to the Englifli reader in the elegant 
 and fpirited verfion of a poet and a friend — witk 
 
6 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 pride and delight I add the name of Cowper. 
 This gentleman , who is prepared to oblige the 
 ^vorid with a complete tranflation of Milton's La- 
 tin and Italian poetry , has kindly favored me 
 with the liberty of tranfcribing, from his admira- 
 ble work, wliatever I wilh to infert in this narra- 
 tive. Since I am indebted to Milton for a friendlhip, 
 which I regard as honorable in the highefl: de- 
 gree, may I be indulged in the hope of leaving a 
 lafting memorial of it in thefe pages. 
 
 A book, devoted to the honor of Milton, may 
 admit, I hope, without impropriety, the praifes 
 due to a living author, who is become his poeti- 
 cal interpreter; an office which the fpirit of the 
 divine bard may be gratified in his having afTu- 
 med; for, affuredly, my friend bears no common 
 refemblance to his moft illuftrious predeceffor , 
 not only in the energy and hallowed ufe of poe- 
 tical talents , but in that beneficent fervor and 
 purity of heart, which entitle the great poet to 
 as large a portion of affectionate efleem , as he has 
 long poffelTed of admiration. 
 
 JOHN MILTON was born in London , on the 
 9th of December, 1608, at the houfe of his fa- 
 ther, in Bread-flreet, and baptized on the Qotli of 
 tliefame month. His chriftian name defcended to 
 him from his grandfather. The family, once opu- 
 lent proprietors of Milton , in Oxfordshire , lofl 
 that eftate in the civil wars of York andLancafter, 
 and was indebted, perhaps, to adverfity for much 
 liigher dillindion than opulence can beflow. John, 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 7 
 
 the grandfather of the poet, became deputy ran- 
 ger in tlie foreft ofShotover, not far from Oxford; 
 and intending to educate his fon as a gentleman, 
 lie placed him at Chrilt-Church, in that unlverfi- 
 ty; but being himfelf a rigid Papiit, he difniherited 
 the young and devout fcholar, for an attachment 
 to the dodrines of the Reformation , and reduced 
 him to the neceffity of quitting the path of htera- 
 ture for a lefs honorable but more lucrative pro- 
 feiTion. 
 
 The difcarded fludent applied himfelf to the 
 employment of a fcrivener, which has varied with 
 the variations , of life and manners. A fcrivener, 
 in remoter ages, is fuppofed to have been a mere 
 tranfcriber; but at the period w-e fpeak of, his 
 occupation united the two profitable branches of 
 drawing contracts and of lending money. The 
 emoluments of this profefTion enabled the father 
 of- Milton to beflow moft abundantly on his fon 
 thofe advantages of education , whicli had been 
 cruelly withdra^vn from himfelf. The poet was 
 happy in both his parents; and to the merits of 
 ihoth he has borne affectionate and honorable 
 teflimony. The maiden name of his mother has 
 been difputed; but it feems reafonal^le to credit 
 the account of Philips , her grandfon, the earlieft 
 biographer of Milton , who had the advantage of 
 living with him as a relation and a difciple. 
 
 Her name, according to this author, who fpeaks 
 highly of her virtue, was Gallon, and her family 
 derived from Wales. Milton , in mentioning his 
 
» X H E LIFE or IM I L T O N. 
 
 own origin, with a decent pride, in re})ly to one 
 of his revilers, afferts , that his mother was a wo- 
 man of exemplary chara6^er, and pecuharly dif- 
 tinguiflied by her extenfive charity '•■. TJie parental 
 kindnefs and tlie talents of his father he has cele- 
 brated in a Latin poem , which cannot be too 
 warmly admired, as a monument of filial tender- 
 nefs, and poetical enthufia'm. It is probable, 
 that the fevere manner in Avhidi that indulgent 
 father had been driven from the purfnits of lear- 
 nincT induced him to exert uncommon liberalitv 
 and ardor in the education of his fon. Though 
 immerfecl himfelf in a lucrative occupation , he 
 feems to have retiined great elegance of mind , 
 and to have amufed himfelf with literature and 
 muhc; to the latter lie applied fo fuccefsfuUy, that, 
 according to Dr. Bnrney, the accomplillied hifto- 
 rian of that captivating art, " he became a volu- 
 minous compofer, equal in fcience, if not 'in 
 genius, to the beft muficians of his age." Nor did 
 his talents pais without celebrity or reward. Phi- 
 lips relates, that for one of his devotional compo- 
 fitions in forty parts, he was honored with a 
 gold chain and medal byaPoliili prince, to \vhom 
 he prefented it. This mark of diiiincClion was fre- 
 quently conferred on men , who rofe to great ex- 
 cellence in different arts and fciences : perhaps 
 
 * Lontlini fiim iiatiis , genere honefto, patre viro integcrrimo, 
 matre probatiffima , & elcemofynis per viciniam potiffimum nota. 
 
 Hcfenfio feciinda. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. g 
 
 the ambition of young Milton was firft awakened 
 by thefe gifts of honor beflowed upon his fa- 
 tiier ''\ 
 
 A parent, who could enliven the drudgery of 
 a. dull profeilion by a variety of elegantpurfuits, muft 
 have been happy to difcern , and eager to cherilh, 
 the firft dawning of genius in his child. In this 
 point of view we may contemplate ^vith peculiar 
 delight the infantine portrait of Milton, by that 
 elegant and faithful arcift , Cornelius Janfen. Au- 
 brey, the antiquarian, obferving in his manufcript 
 memoirs of our author, that he was ten years old 
 when this pi(^ure \vas drawn , affirms that " he 
 was then a poet." This exprelfion may lead us to 
 
 * The father of Milton has been lately mentioned as an author. 
 —He was thought to have published, in the year of the poet's 
 birth, a little book, with tie quaint title of " A Sixe Fold Poli- 
 tician." — Mr. Warton obferved, that the curious publication af- 
 cribed to Milton's father may be found in the Bodleian library} 
 that" it appears to be a fatire on charaders pretending to wifdom 
 or policy, and is not void of learning and wit, fuch as we often 
 find aifeftedly and awkwardly blended in the elTay-writers of 
 that age." 
 
 By the favor of Mr. Ifaac Reed , who is moft liberal in the 
 communication of the literary rarities he has collected, I have 
 perufcd this fingular performance, and perfectly agree with its 
 obliging poffeffor, and his accomplished friend. Dr. Farmer, 
 that although in the records of the Stationers Company it is af- 
 cribed to John Milton, we may rather aflign it to John Mel- 
 ton, author of the Allrologafter, than to the father of our poet* 
 •—The latter Avill lofe but little in being no longer regarded as 
 its author, efpecially as we have different and more honorable 
 proofs of his attachment to literature. 
 
 % 
 
lO TH£ LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 imagine , that the portrait was executed to encou- 
 rage the infant author; and if fo, it might operate 
 as a powerful incentive to his future exertion. The 
 permanent bias of an a6^ive fpirit often originates 
 in the petty incidents of childhood; and as no 
 human mind ever glowed with a more intenfe, or 
 Avith a purer flame of literary ambition , than the 
 mind of Milton, it may not be unpleafmg to con- 
 jecture how it firfl; caught thefparks, that gradual- 
 ly mounted to a blaze of unrivalled vehemence 
 and fplendor. 
 
 His education, as Dr. Newton has well obferved, 
 united the oppolite advantages of private and pub- 
 lic infl:ru6]ion. Of his early paffion for letters he 
 has left the following record, in his fecond defence *: 
 *' My father deflined me from my infancy to the 
 Hudy of polite literature, which I embraced with 
 fuch avidity, that from the age of twelve, I hardly 
 ever retired from my books before midnight. This 
 proved the firft fource of injury to my eyes, whofe 
 natural weaknefs was attended Avith frequent pains 
 of the head; but as all thefe difadvantages could 
 notreprefs my ardor for learning, my father took 
 care to have me inflru(^ed by various preceptors 
 
 * Pater mepuerulum humaniarum literarum ftuiliis deftinavit; 
 quas ita avide arripui, lit ab anno aetatis duodecimo vix unquam 
 ante mediam noftem a lucubrationibus cubitiim difcederem; qux 
 prima oculorum pernicies fuit, quorum ad naturalem dcbilitatem 
 acceflerant & crebri capitis dolores i qua omnia cum difcendi 
 impetum non retardarent, & in ludo iiterario, Sc fub aliis domi 
 magiftris erudiendum ^uotidie curavit. 
 
THE LIFE OFMILTON. TT 
 
 both at home and at fchool." His domeftic tutor 
 was Thomas Young, of EfTex, who, being obliged 
 to quit his country on account of religious opi- 
 nions, became minifter to- the Englilh merchants 
 at Hamburgh. It was probably from this learned 
 and confcientious man , that Milton caught not 
 only his paffiori for literature, but that fieadinefs 
 and unconquerable integrity of character, by 
 which he was diftinguilTied throuch all the vicifTi- 
 tndes of a tempeftuous life. His reverential gra- 
 titude and afFe61ion towards this preceptor are re- 
 corded in two Latin epiftles'", and a Latin elegy 
 
 •The high opinion, which Milton entertained of his pre- 
 ceptor, is fo gracefully expreffed in one of thefe letters, that J 
 feledt! it as a fpecimen of his epiftolary ftyle in the early period 
 of life. 
 
 Thomae Junio. 
 
 Infpeiflis literis tliis ( proeceptor optime ) unicum hoc mihi fa- 
 pervacaneiim occurrebat, quod tardce fcriptionis exciifationem 
 attulerisj tametfi enim literis tuis nihil mihi qiieat optabilius 
 accedere, qui poflini tamen ant debeam fperare otii tibi tantuma 
 rebus feriis, & fanftioribus effe, ut mihi femper refponderejva- 
 cet; prxfertim cum illud humanitatis omnino fit, officii minime. 
 Te vero oblitum effe mei ut fufpicer, tam multa tua de me re- 
 cens merita nequaquam iinunt. Neque enim video quorfuin 
 tantis onuftum beneticiis ad oblivionem dimitteres. Rus tuum 
 accerfitus, fimul ac Ver adoleverit, libenter adveniam, ad capef- 
 fendas anni tuique non minus colloquii delicias, & ab urbano 
 ftrepitu fubducam me paulifper, ad lloam tuam Icenorum , tan- 
 quam ad celeberrimam illam Zenonis porticum aut Ciceronis 
 Tufculanum, ubi tn in re modica regio fane animo vehiti Ser- 
 ranus aliquis aut Curius in agello tuo placide regnas, deque ipfis 
 divitiiSj ambitione, pompa, luxuria, &quicquid rulgus hominum 
 
12 THE LIFE OF MIL T N. 
 
 addrefied to liim: they fiiggeft a mofl favorable 
 idea of the poet's native difpolition, and furnifli 
 an effe^lnal antidote to tlie poifon of that moft 
 injurions alfertion , that " he hated all whom lie 
 was required to obey." — Could un*raclable pride 
 be the characteriftic of a mind, which has expref- 
 fed its regard lor a difcipiinarian fufficiently rigid, 
 with a tendernefs fo confpicuons in the following 
 verfes of the fourth Elegy? 
 
 miratur & ftiipet , quafi triumphum agis fortunie contemptof. 
 Cseterum qui tarditatis ciilpam depveciitus es, banc mihi viciJTim, 
 Ut fpefo, praecipilantiam indulgebis; cum enim epiftolam banc 
 in extremumdiftuliflem, mahiipauca, eaque rudiufcule fcribercj 
 quam nibil.-^Vale vir obfervande. 
 
 Cantabrigia , Julii 21, i6i8. 
 In perufing your letters , my excellent preceptor, this only 
 appeared to me fuperHuous, that you apologize for a delay in 
 writing; for although nothing can be more dcfirable to me than 
 your letters, yet vvhat right have I to hope, that your ferious 
 and facred duties can allow you fucb leifure, that you can al- 
 ways find time enough to anfwer me, efpecially when your 
 writing is entirely an act of kindnefs, and by no means of duty. 
 The many and recent favors I have received from you will by 
 no means fuft^er me to fufpeft that you can forget mc; nor can 
 I conceive it poffible that, having loaded me with fuch benefits, 
 you should now difmifs me from your remembrance. I shall 
 willingly attend your fummons to your rural retirement on the 
 firil: appearance of fpring, to enjoy with equal relish the dtlights 
 of the feafon and of your converfation. I shall Avithdraw my- 
 felf for a little time from the buitlc of the city to your porch 
 in Suffolk, as to the famous portico of the Stoic, or the Tuf- 
 culum of Cicero , where ennobling a moderate cftate by an im- 
 perial mind, you reign contentedly in your little field , like a 
 Serranus or a Curius, and triumph, as it were, over opulence, 
 
THE LIFT. OF MILTON. iJ 
 
 Vivit ibi antiqiiae ciarus pietatis honore, 
 
 Prsful, chrifticolas f.afcere dodus oves; 
 Ille quidemeft animiE plus quam pars altera noftra; , 
 
 Dimidio vitse vivere cogor ego. 
 Hei mihi quot pelagi , quot montes interjecfti, 
 
 Me faciunt alia parte carere mei ! 
 Charior ille mihi, quam tu, dodliffime Graium, 
 
 Cliniadi, pronepos qui Telamonis erat ; 
 Q^uamque Stagyrites generofo magnus alumno , 
 
 Quern peperit Lybico Chaonis alma Jovi. 
 Qualis Amyntorides, qualis Phylireius heros 
 
 Myrmidonum regi, talis & ille mihi. 
 Primus ego Aonios illo prteunte recelTus 
 
 Luftrabam, & bifidi facra vireta jugi, 
 Pieriofque haufi latices , Clioque favente, 
 
 Caftalio fparfi Iceta ter ora mero. 
 
 There lives, deep learn'd, and primitively juft, 
 A faithful Reward of his Chriftian truft; 
 My friend , and favorite inmate of my heart. 
 That now is forc'd to want its better part. 
 What mountains now, and feas , alas! how wide! 
 Me from my other , dearer felf divide ! 
 Dear as the fage, renown'd for moral truth, 
 To the prime fpirit of the Attic youth ! 
 
 ambition , pomp, luxury ( and whatever is idolized by the herd 
 of men) by looking down upon fortune : buc as you excufe 
 yourfelf for delay, let me hope that you will forgive me for 
 hafte , fincc, having deferred this letter to the laft moment, I 
 chofe to fend a few lines , though not ver\^ accurately written, 
 rather than to be filent. Farewel my revered friend. 
 
14 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Dear as the Stagyrite to Amnion's fon , 
 His pupil, who difdain'd the world he won! 
 Nor fo did Chiron, or fo Phoenix fliine , 
 In young Achilles' eyes, as he in mine : 
 Firft led by him, thro' fweet Aonian fhade , 
 Each facred haunt of Pindus I furvey'd; 
 Explor'd the rountain, and the Mufe my guide, 
 Thrice fteep'd my lips in the Caftalian tide. 
 
 And again, exprefTing his regret upon the length 
 of their reparation : 
 
 Nee dum ejus licuit mihi lumina pafcere vultu , 
 Aiit linguae dulces aure bibilTe fonos. 
 
 Nor yet his friendly features feaft my fight, 
 Nor his fweet accents my fond ear delight. 
 
 As the tendernefs of the young poet is admira- 
 bly difplayed in the beginning of this Elegy, his 
 more achnowledged characleriftic, religious forti- 
 tude , is not leis admirable in the clofe of it. 
 
 At tu fume animos , nee fpes cadat anxia curls , 
 
 Nee tua concutiat decolor olfa metus. 
 Sis etenim quamvis fulgentibus obfitus armis, 
 
 Intententqiie tibi millia tela nccem. 
 At nullis vel inerme latus violabitur armis, 
 
 Deque tuo cufpis nulla cruore bibet; 
 Namque eris ipfe dei radiante fub aegide tutus, 
 
 lUe tibi ciiftos , & pugil ille tibi : 
 Et tu (quod fupereft raiii^ris ) fperare memento, 
 
THE L 1 1' E OF M I L T O N. l5 
 
 Et tua magnanimo pedorevince mala; 
 Nee dubites quandoque frui mclioribus annis , 
 Atque iteium patrios poffe videre lares. 
 
 But thou, take courage, ftrive againd defpair. 
 Shake not with dread, nor nourifli anxious care. 
 What tho' grim war on every fide appears, 
 And thou art menac'd by a thoufand fpears. 
 Not one fhall drink thy blood, not one offend 
 Ev'n the defencelefs bofom of my friend; 
 For thee the aegis of thy God fhall hide; 
 Jehovah's felf fhall combat on thy fide; 
 Thou, therefore, as the moft afflided may. 
 Still hope, and triumph o'er thy evil day; 
 Truft thou fhalt yet behold a happier time. 
 And yet again enjoy thy native clime. 
 
 The reader, inclined to fymphatize in the joys 
 of Milton , will be gratified in being informed , 
 that his preceptor, whofe exile and poverty he 
 pathetically lamented , and whofe profperous re- 
 turn he predicted , was in a few years reftored to 
 his country, and became Mafter of Jefus College, 
 in Cambridge. 
 
 As the year in which he quitted England (i6q3) 
 correfponds with the fifteenth year of his pupil's 
 age, it is probable that Milton was placed, at that 
 time, under the care of Mr. Gill and his fon; 
 the former, chief mailer of St. Paul's fchool, the 
 latter, his affiflant , and afterwards his fucceflbr. 
 It is remarkable , that Milton, who has been fo 
 uncandidly reprefented as an uncontrolable fpirit , 
 
l5 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 and a fpurner of all juft authority, feems to have 
 contracted a tender attachment to more than one 
 difciplinarian concerned in his education. He is 
 faid to have been the favorite fcholar of the 
 younger Gill; and he has left traces of their 
 friendfliip in three Latin epiflles, that exprefs 
 the higheft efteem for the literary character and 
 poetical talents of his inftru61:or. 
 
 On the iQth of F'ehruary. 1624, he was entered, 
 not as a fizer , which fome ol his biographers 
 have erroneoufly afferted , but as a penfioner of 
 Chrift's College, in Cambridge. '^At this time,'* 
 fays Do^^lor Johnfon , "he was eminently fkil- 
 led in the Latin tongue , and he himfelf , by 
 annexing the dates to his firft compofitions , a 
 " boaft of which the learned Politian had given 
 him an example , feems to commend the earli- 
 " nefs of his own proficiency to the no'ice of pof- 
 *' teriry ; but the produdls of his vernal fertility 
 ** have been furpaffed by many , and particularly 
 " by his contemporary, Cowley. Of the po^vers 
 " of the mind it is difficult to form an eflimate; 
 *' many have excelled Milton in their firft effays, 
 '' who never rofe to ^vorks like Paradife Loft." 
 
 TJiis is the firft of many remarks, replete \vith 
 detraction, in which an illuftrious author has in- 
 dulged his fpleen againft Milton, in a life of the 
 poet, where an ill-fubdued propenfity to cenfure 
 is ever combating with a neceffity to commend. 
 Tlie partifaiis of the powerlul critic, from a natu- 
 ral partiality to their departed mafter , affe6f to 
 
THE LIFE OF IMILTOX. 1? 
 
 confider his malignity as exifling only in the pre- 
 judices of thofe who endeavour to counteract his 
 injuftice. A biograplier of Milton oucht ti.erefore 
 to regard it as his indifpenfible duty to fliow how- 
 far this malignity is diffufed through a long; feries 
 of obfervations , which affect the reputation both 
 of the poet and the man; a duty that muft be 
 painful in proportion to the fmcerity of our efteem 
 for literary genius; fince, different as they were 
 in their principles , their manners, and their wri- 
 tings , both the poet and his critical biographer 
 are affuredly entitled to the praife of exalted ge- 
 nius. Perhaps in the republic of letters there ne- 
 ver exifted two writers more defervedly diflin- 
 guifhed , not only for the energy of their mental 
 faculties, but for a generous and devout dehre 
 to benefit mankind by their exertion. 
 
 Yet it muft be lamented, and by the lovers of 
 Milton in particular, that a moralift, who has gi- 
 ven us, in the Rambler, fuch fublime leffons for 
 the difcipline of the heart and mind , fliould be 
 unable to preferve his own from that acrimonious 
 fpirit of detra61ion, which led him to depreciate, 
 to the utmoft of his po^ver, the rare abilities, and 
 perhaps the ftill rarer integrity , of Milton. It 
 may be faid, that the truly eloquent and fplen- 
 did encomium , which he has beftowed on the 
 great work of the poet , ought to exempt him 
 from fuch a charge. The fingular beauties and 
 efFeft of this eulogy fliall be mentioned in the pro- 
 per place, and with all the applaufe they merit; 
 
l8 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 bnthereit is juft to recolle6i, that the praifeoftlie 
 encomiafl is nearly confined to the fentence he 
 paffes as a critic; his more diffufive detra6iion 
 may be traced in almoft every page of the biogra- 
 pher: not to encounter it on its firffc appearance, 
 and wherever it is vifible and important , would 
 be to fail in that juftice and regard towards the 
 charader of Milton, which he, perhaps, of all men, 
 has mofl eminently deferved. 
 
 In the preceding citation it is evidently the pur- 
 pofe of Dr. Johnfon to degrade Milton below 
 Cowley, and many other poets, diftinguiflied by 
 juvenile compofitions; but Mr. Warton has, 
 with great tafte and judgment, expofed the error 
 of Dr. Johnfon, in preferring the Latin poetry of 
 Cowley to that of Milton. An eminent foreign 
 critic has beftowed that high praife on the juve- 
 nile produ^ions of our author, which his prejudi- 
 ced countryman is inclined to deny. Morhoff has 
 affirmed, with equal truth and liberality, that the 
 verfes, which Milton produced in his childhood, 
 difcover both the fire and judgment of maturer 
 life: a commendation that no impartial reader will 
 be inclined to. extenuate, who perufes the fpirited 
 epiftle to his exiled preceptor, compofed in his 
 eighteenth year. Some of his Englifh verfes bear 
 an earlier date. The firft of his juvenile produc- 
 tions , in the language which he was deftined to 
 ennoble, is a paraphrafe of the hundred and four- 
 teenth pfalm ; it was executed at the age of fifteen, 
 and difcovers a power that Dryden , and other 
 
THE LIFE OP MILTON. IQ 
 
 more prefumptuous critics, have uiijuflly denied 
 to Milton, the power of moving with facility in 
 the fetters of rhyme: this power is flill more con- 
 fpicuous in the poem he wrote at the ageof feven- 
 teen , on the death of his fifler's child; a compofi- 
 tion peculiarly entitled to the notice of thofe, who 
 love to contemplate the early dawn of poetical 
 genius. In this performance, puerile as it is in 
 every fenfe of the word, the intelligent reader may 
 yet difcern , as in the bud, all the ftriking charac- 
 teriftics of Milton ; his affectionate fenfibility, his 
 fuperior imagination, and all that native tendency 
 to devotional enthufiafm, 
 
 Which fets the heart on fire, 
 
 Tofpurn the fordid world, arid unto Heav'n afpire. 
 
 Admirably trained as the youth of the poet \va3 
 to acquire academical honor by the union of in- 
 duflry and talents , he feems to have experienced 
 at Cambridge a chequered fortune, very hmilar 
 to his deftiny in the world. It appears from fome 
 remarkable pafTages in the Latin exercifes, which 
 he recited in his College , that he was at firft an 
 objeft of partial feverity, and afterwards of ge- 
 neral admiration. He had differed in opinion con- 
 cerning a plan of academical fludies with fome 
 perfons of authority in his college , and thus ex- 
 cited their difpleafnre. Hefpeaks of them as high- 
 ly incenfed againft him; but exprelfes, with 
 the moft liberal fenfibility, his furprife, delight, 
 
20 THE L I !• E OF M I L T O N. 
 
 and gratitude, in finding that liis enemies forgot 
 their animofity to honor him with unexpected 
 applaufe. 
 
 An idle ftory has l^een circulated concerning liis 
 treatment in College. " I am afliamed," fays Dr. 
 Johnfon, " to relate what I fear is true^ that Mil- 
 ton was the laft fludent in either Univerfity that 
 fuffered the pubhc indignity of corporal punifli- 
 ment." In confirmation of this incident, which 
 appears improbable , though fupported by Mr. 
 Warton, the biographical critic alledges the fol- 
 lowing palTage from the firfl: Elegy : 
 
 Jam nee anindifeium mihi cuia revifere Camum, 
 Nee dudum vetiti me laris angit amor; 
 
 Nee duri libet ufque minas perferre magiftri, 
 CiEteraque ingenio non fubeunda meo. 
 
 Nor zeal nor duty now my Heps impel 
 To reedy Cam and my forbidden cell; 
 
 'Tis time that I a pedant's threats difdain, 
 And fly from wrongs my foul will ne'er fuftain. 
 
 Dr. Johnfon confiders thefe exprefiions as an 
 abfolute proof, that Milton was obliged to un- 
 dergo this indignity; but they may fuggeft a very 
 different idea. From all the light we can obtain 
 concerning this anecdote, it feems mofl probable, 
 that Milton was threatened, indeed, with what 
 he confidered as apunifliment, not only diflionor- 
 able but unmerited; that hismanly fpirit difdain- 
 ^d to fubmit to it; and that he was therefore 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 21 
 
 obliged to acquiel'ce in a fhort exile from Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 In fpeaking of his academical life, it is necelTary 
 to obviate another remark of a fimilar tendency. 
 
 " There is reafon, " fays Johnfon, " to fufpect 
 tliat he was regarded in his college with no great 
 fondnefs." To counteract this invidious infniua-^ 
 tion we are fnrnilhed with a reply, made by Mil- 
 ton himfelf, to this very calumny ^ originally fa- 
 bricated l)y one of his contemporaries ; a calumny^ 
 which he had fo fully refuted, that it ought to 
 have revived no more! He begins with thanking 
 his reviler for the afperfion : " It has given me," 
 he fays, " an apt occahon to acknowledge public- 
 " ly, with all grateful mind^ that more than or- 
 " dinary favor and refpect, which I found, above 
 *' any of m.y equals , at the hand of thofe cour- 
 " teous and learned men, the Fellows of that 
 *' College , wherein I fpent fome years; who, at 
 " my parting, after I had taken two deorees, as 
 " the manner is, lignifted many ways how much 
 " better it would content them that I would flay, 
 " as by many letters, full of kindnefs and loving 
 " reipe<^, both before that time and long after,! 
 *' was aflTured of the fniguiar pood affection towards 
 me."-^ Profe Works, vol. i. p. i5. 
 
 The Latin poems of Milton are yet entitled to 
 more of our attention; becaufe they exhibit lively 
 proofs , that he poffeffed both tendernefs and en- 
 thuliafm , thofe primary conftituents of a poet > 
 at an early period of life , and in the higheft 
 
22 T H E L T F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 degree: they have additional value, from making 
 us acquainted with feveral interefting particulars 
 of his youth, and many of his opinions, which 
 muft have had conhderable influence on his moral 
 character. 
 
 His hxth Elegy, addrelTed to his bofom friend, 
 Charles Diodati, feems to be founded on the idea, 
 which he may be laid to have verified in his own 
 conducljthat flri6i habits of temperance and vir- 
 tue are highly conducive to the perfection of great 
 poetical powers. To poets of a lighter clais he 
 recommends , with graceful pleafantry , much 
 convivial enjoyment; but for thofe who afpire to 
 Epic renown , he preicribes even the fimple re- 
 gimen of Pythagoras. 
 
 Ille quidem parce, Samii pio more magiftri, 
 
 Vivat, & iniKJCuos praebeat heiba c bos; 
 Stet prope fagineo pellucida lympha catillo, 
 
 Sobriaque e puio pocula fonte bibat. 
 Additur huic fcelerifque vacans & calla juventus, 
 
 Et rigidi mores , & fine labe manus. 
 Oiialis velle nitens facra, & lultralibus undis, 
 
 Surgis ad infenfos, augur, iture Deos. 
 
 Simply let thefe, like him of Samos, live; 
 Let herbs to them a bloodlefs banquet give; 
 In beechen goblets let their beverage fhine; 
 Cool from the cryftal fpring their fober wine : 
 Their youth fhould pafs in innocence, fecure 
 From ftain licentious, and in manners pure; 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. qS 
 
 Pure as Heaven's minifter, arrayed in white, 
 Propitiating the gods with luftral rite. 
 
 In his Elegy en the Spring, our poet exprefles 
 the fervent emotions of his fancy in terms , that 
 may be iilmoft regarded as a prophetic defcrip- 
 tion of his fublimeft work : 
 
 Jam mihi mens liquid! raptatur in ardua coeli, 
 Perque vagas nubes corpore liber eo ; 
 
 Intuiturque animus toto quid agacur Olympo, 
 Nee fugiunt oculos Tartara Citca meos. 
 
 I mount, and, undeprefled by cumbrous clay, 
 Thro' cloudy regions win my eafy way; 
 My fpirit fearches all the realms of light. 
 And no Tartarean depths elude my fight. 
 
 With thefe verfes it may be pleafmg to compare 
 a hmilar pafTage in his Englilh vacation exercife , 
 where, addrefling his native language, as applied 
 to an inconfiderable pmpofe , he adds. 
 
 Yet I had rather, if I were to chule. 
 
 Thy fervice in fome graver fubjed: ufe; 
 
 Such as may make thee fearch thy coffers round, 
 
 Before thou clothe my fancy in fit found; 
 
 Such, where the deep tranfported mind may foar 
 
 Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'n's door 
 
 Look in, and fee each blifsful deity , 
 
 How he before the thunderous throne doth lie. 
 
24 THE LITE OF MILTON. 
 
 " It is worth the curious reader's attention to 
 obrerve how much tlie Paradife Loll correfponds 
 with this prophetic wiih , " lays Mr. Thyer, one 
 of the mofl inteUigent and hberal of Enghih com- 
 mentators. 
 
 The young poet, who thus expreffed his ambi- 
 tion, was then in his nineteenth year. At the age 
 of twenty-one (the period of his hfe when that 
 pleahng portrait of him was executed , \vhich the 
 Speaker Onflow obtained from the executors of 
 his widow) lie compofed his Ode on the Nativity ; 
 a poem that furpalles in fancy and devotional fire 
 a compofition on the fame fubjedl by that cele- 
 brated and devout poet of Spain , Lopez de 
 Vega. 
 
 The moft trifling performances of Milton are fo 
 fmgular, that we may regret even the lois of the 
 verfes alluded to by Aubrey, as the offspring of 
 his childhood. Perhaps no juvenile autlior ever 
 difplayed, with fuch early force, 
 
 " The fpiiit of a youth 
 "Who means to be of note." 
 
 His mind, even in his boyifli days, feems to have 
 glowed , like the fancy and furnace of an alcliy- 
 mift, with inceffant hope and preparation for af- 
 tonifliing productions. 
 
 Such aufterity and morofenefs have been falfely 
 attributed to Milton, that a reader 3 acquainted 
 
 with 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 25 
 
 \vith him only as he appears in the page of John- 
 fon , nmft fuppofe him httle formed for love; 
 but his poetry in general, and efpecially the com- 
 pofitions we are now fpeaking of, may convince 
 us, that he felt, with the moft exquifite fenfibili- 
 ty , the magic of beauty , and all the force of 
 female attradlion. His feventh Elegy exhibits a 
 lively pi(Slure of his firfl: paiTion 5 he reprefents 
 himfelf as captivated by an unknown fair, who, 
 though he faw her but for a moment, made a 
 deep impreffion on his heart. 
 
 Protinus infoliti fubierunt corda furores, 
 
 Uror amans intus , fiammaque totus eram. 
 Interea mifero qu« jam mihi fola placcbat , 
 
 Ablata eft oculis non reditura meis. 
 Aft ego progredior tacite querebundus, & excors, 
 
 Et dubius volui fspe referre pedem. 
 Findor & haec remanet: fequitur pars altera votum, 
 
 Raptaque tarn fubito gaudia flere juvat. 
 
 A fever, new to me, of fierce defire 
 
 Now feiz'd my foul, and I was all on fire; 
 
 But flie the while, whom only I adore, 
 
 Was gone, and vanifh'd to appear no more: 
 
 In filent forrow I purfue my way; 
 
 I paufe, I turn, proceed, yet wifh to ftay: 
 
 And Avhile I follow her in thought, bemoan 
 
 With tears my foul's delight fo quickly flown. 
 
 The juvenile poet then addreffes himfelf to love, 
 with a requeft that beautifully expreffes all the 
 
 4 
 
26 THE LIFE OEM I I. TON. 
 
 inquietude, and all the inefblution , of hopelefs 
 attachment. 
 
 Deme meos tandem, verum nee deme, furores ; 
 Nefcio] cur , niifer eft fuaviter omnis amans. 
 
 Remove, no, grant me ftill this raging woe; 
 Sweet is the wretchednefs that lovers know. 
 
 After having contemplated the youthful fancy 
 of Milton under the inflnence of a hidden and 
 vehement affedion, let us furvey him in a differ-' 
 ent point of view, and admire the purity and 
 vigor of mind , which he exerted at the age of 
 twenty-three , in meditation on his paft and his 
 future days. 
 
 To a friend, who had remonftrated with him 
 on his delay to enter upon aciive life, he afcribes 
 that delay to an inteufe defire of rendering him- 
 felf more fit for it. " Yet ( he fays) " that you 
 *' may fee that I am fomething fufpicious of my- 
 *' felfe , and doe take notice of a certain belated- 
 *' neife in me, I am the bolder to fend you fome 
 " of my night-ward tlioughts, fome Avhile fmce, 
 " becaufe they come in not altogether unfitlyi, 
 *' made up in a Petrarchian ftanza, which I told 
 " you of:" 
 
 How foon hath time, the fubtle thief of youth, 
 Stol'n on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 
 My hafting days Hy on with full career, 
 
 l^ut my late fpring no bud or blofTom Ihow'th. 
 
THE LITE OFMILTON. 27 
 
 Perhaps my femblance might deceive the truth, 
 Tl at 1 to manhood am arriv'd fo near, 
 And inward ripenefs doth much lefs appear, 
 
 That fome more time'y-happy fpirits indu'th. 
 Yet be it lefs or more, or foon or flow, 
 
 It fhall be Hi!] in ftricleft meafure even 
 To that fame lot, however mean or high, 
 
 Towards which time leads me, and the will of 
 heaven ; 
 All is , if I have grace to ufe it fo, 
 
 As ever in my great tafk-mafter's eye. 
 
 This fonnet may be regarded , perhaps , as a 
 refutation of that injurious ciiticifm, which has 
 afferted, *' the beft fonnets of Milton are enti- 
 tled only to this negative commendation , that they 
 are not bad; " but it has a fuperior value, which 
 induced me to introduce it here, as it feems to 
 reveal the ruling principle , which gave bias 
 and energy to the mind and conduct of Milton; 
 ,1 mean the habit, which he fo early adopted, 
 of confidering himfelf 
 
 " As ever in his great tafk-mafter's eye. " 
 
 It was, perhaps, the force and permanency 
 with which this perfuafion was impreiTed on his 
 heart, that enabled him to afcend the fublimeft 
 heights, both of genius and of virtue. 
 
 When Milton began his courfe of academical 
 ftudy, he had views of foon entering the church, 
 to " whofe fervice," he fays, " by the intentions 
 
qS T H E L I F E O F M I l t o n. 
 
 *' of my parents and friends , I was deftined of 
 " a child, and in mine own refolutions. " it 
 was a religious fern pie that prevented him from 
 taking orders; and iliouigh his mode of thinking 
 may be deemed erroneous, there is a refined and 
 halloAved probity in his condn(il on this occafion, 
 that is entitled to the higheft cfteem ; particularly 
 when we confider, that although lie declined the 
 office of a minifier, he devoted liimfelfj with 
 intenie application , to what he confidered as the 
 jnterelt of true religion. The hnceritv and fer- 
 vor ^vith which he fpeaks on this topic nmft be 
 applauded by every candid perion, however dif- 
 fering from him on points that relate to our re- 
 ligious eftablilhm.ent. 
 
 " For me (favs this zealous and dihnterefted 
 *' advocate for iimple chriflianity ) I have deter- 
 *' mined to lay up , as the bell treafnre and fo- 
 *' lace of a good old age. if God vouchlafe it me, 
 *' the honefl: liberty of freefpeech from my youth, 
 ** where I Ihall think it available in fo dear a ' 
 *' concernment as the church's good." In the 
 polemical writings of Milton there is a merit to 
 which fevv polem.ics can pretend ; they were the 
 pure diclates of confcience, and pioduced by 
 the facrifice of his favorite puriuits : this he has 
 ilatedin the following very forcible and interefting 
 language : 
 
 " Concerning therefore this wayward fubje( 
 *' againft prelaty, tJie touching whereof is fo dif-| 
 *' tafteful and difquietous to a number of men 
 
THE LIFE OF M 1 L i O N. 29 
 
 " as by what hath been faid I may deferve of 
 " charitable readers to be credited , that neither 
 " envy nor gal! hath entered me upon this con- 
 " troverfy , but the enforcement of confcience 
 " onlv , and a preventive fear, left the omitting 
 " of this duty lliould be againft me , when I 
 " would ftore up to myfelf the good provifioii 
 " of peaceful hours : fo left it fhould be ftill ini- 
 " puted to be, as I have found it liath been, 
 " that fome felf pleafmg humor of vain glory 
 " has incited me to conteft with men of high ef- 
 *' timation , now while green years are upon my 
 '' head ; from this needlefs furmifal I Ihall hope 
 " to dilfuade the intelligent and equal auditor, 
 " if T can but fiy fuccefsfully , that which in this 
 *' exigent behoves me , although I ^vould be 
 " heard, only if it might be, by the elegant 
 " and learned reader, to whom j^rincipally for 
 " a while I fliall beg leave I may.addrefs myfelf; 
 " to him it will be no new thing , though I 
 " tell him , that if I hunted after praife by the 
 " oftentation of wit and learning, I fliould not 
 " write thus out of mine own feafon , when I 
 " have neither yet completed to my mind the 
 " full circle of my private ftudies ( although I 
 " complain not of any infafticiency to the mat- 
 " tef in hand ) or were I ready to my wiflies , 
 " it were a folly to commit any thing elaborate- 
 *' ly compofed to the carelefs and interrupted 
 " liftening of thefe tumultuous times. Next, if 
 " I were wife only to my own ends, I would 
 
3o THE LIFl- OF MILTON. 
 
 certainly take fuch a fubje£^, as of itfelf might 
 catch applaufe ; whereas this has all the difad- 
 vantages on the contrary; and fnch a fubjed, 
 as the publifliing whereof might be delayed at 
 pleafure, and time enough to pencil it over 
 
 (C 
 
 <( 
 a 
 
 iC 
 
 a 
 
 *' with all the curious touches of art, even to 
 *' the perfe6\ion of a faultlefs pidure ; when , 
 
 I 
 
 " as in this argument, the not deferring is of 
 *' great moment to the good fpeeding, that if fo' 
 " lidity have leifure to do her office, art cannot 
 "have much. Laflly, I fliouldnot chafe thisman- 
 " ner of writing, wherein knowing myfislf inferior 
 '* to myfelf, led by the genial power of nature 
 " to another talk , I have the ufe, as I may ac- 
 " count, but of my left hand." Profe Works, 
 " vol. I. page 6q. 
 
 Such is the delineation that our author has gi- 
 ven us of his oAvn mind and motives in his treatife 
 on Church Government, which the mention of his 
 early defign to take orders has led me to anticipate. 
 
 Having pafled feven years in Cambridge , and 
 taken his two degrees, that of bachelor, in i6q8, 
 and that of mafter , in 1^3:, lie ^vas admitted to 
 the fame degree at Oxford, in i633. On quitting 
 an academical life, he was, accordino; to his own 
 teftimony, regretted by the fellows of his college; 
 but he regarded the houfe of his father as a re- 
 treat favorable to his literary purfuits, and, at the 
 age of twenty-four, he gladly fiiared the rural re- 
 tirement, in which his parents had recently fettled, 
 at Horton, in Buckinghamfliire: here he devoted 
 himfelf, for hve years, to ftudy , with that ardor 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 3l 
 
 and perfeverance , to which , as he fays hinifelf, 
 in a letter to his friend, Charles Diodati, his na- 
 ture forcibly inclined him. The letter I am fpeak- 
 ing of was written in the laft year of his refidence 
 nndcr the roof of his father, and exhibits a li- 
 vely pi£lure of his progrefs in learning, his paf- 
 fion for virtue, and his hope of renown. 
 
 " To give you an account of my ftudies, " he fays, 
 " I have brought down the affairs of the Greeks, 
 in a continued courfe of reading, to the period in 
 which they ceafed to be Greeks. I have long 
 been engaged in the obfcurer parts of Italian hif- 
 tory , under the Lombards, the Franks, and the 
 Germans , to the time in which liberty was grant- 
 ed them by the emperor Rodolphus ; from this 
 point I think it beft topurfue, in feparate hiftories, 
 the exploits of each particular city *." 
 
 He fliows himfelf, in this letter, moft paflionate- 
 ly attached to the Platonic Pliiiofophy : " As to 
 other })oints , what God may have determined for 
 me , 1 know not ; but this I know , that if he ever 
 inftilled an intenfe love of moral beauty into the 
 breaft of any man, he has inflilled it into mine: 
 Ceres , in the fable , purfued not her daughter 
 with a greater keennefs of inquiry , than I , day 
 and night , the idea ofperfeclion. Hence, wherever 
 
 * De ftudiis etiam noftris fies certior , Graecoriim res conti- 
 nuata leftione dediiximus ufquequo illi Gra;ci elfe funt defiti : 
 Italoriim in obfciira re din verfati fumus fub Lon^obardis & 
 Francis & Germanis ad illiid tempus quo illis ab Rodolpho Ger- 
 manix rege conceflTa libertas eft; exinde quid qiiaeque civitas fuo 
 raarte gefferit, feparatim legere praeftabit. 
 
32 T H E L I F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 I find a man defpifmg the falfe ertimates of the 
 vulgar, and daring to afpire , in fentiment , lan- 
 guage, and condu61, to what the higheft wifdom , 
 through every age , has taught us as mofi; excel- 
 lent, to him I unite myfelf by a fort of neceflary 
 attachment; and if I am fo influenced by nature 
 or defliny, that by no exertion or labors of my 
 own I may exalt myfelf to this fummit of worth 
 and honor, yet no pqwers of heaven or earth 
 will hinder me from looking with reverence and 
 affedion upon thofe, who have thoroughly at- 
 tained this glory, or appear engaged in the fuccefs- 
 ful purfuit of it. 
 
 " You inquire , with a kind of folicitude , even 
 into my thoughts. — Hear then, Diodati, but let me 
 whifper in your ear, that I may not blulh at my 
 reply — I think ( fo help me Heaven ) of immor- 
 tality. You inquire alfo, what I am about? I nurfe 
 my wings , and meditate a flight ; but my Pegafus 
 rifes as yet on very tender pinions. Let us be 
 humbly wife !'^ 
 
 * De caetero quidem quid de mc ftatucrit Dcus nefcio ; illiid 
 certc, Siivov fxonpfiira.:, HTno Tca aAAfa, t« k'xX« iVig-^-c,'-\ "cc 
 taiito Cereslflborc, ut in fabiiHseft, liberain fertur qiixrivifTj fi- 
 liam, qiianto ego hancTa KaA« iS'ictvvclwCi pnlcherrimamqiiandain 
 imaqinem, per omnes rerum formas & facies; (^vroXXcti yct^ 
 fjLOP(pcfj rcdV Aatfxoviuv) dies notbefque indagare foleo , &. qiiafi 
 certis quibufdam veftigiis diicentem feftor. Undo fit, ut qui, 
 fprciis , quae vu-gus prava rerum aftimationc opinatur, id rontire, 
 &loqui &eire audet , quod riimnia per omne levum fapientii op- 
 timum eiredocuit, illi me protinus, ficubi reperiam, neceQitate 
 qxiadam adjungam. Ouod fi ego five natura, five meo fate ita 
 
THE L I I E O F IM I L T O N. 33 
 
 This very interefting epiftle , in which Milton 
 pours forth his heart to the favorite friend of 
 liis youth , mny convince every candid reader, 
 that he pofTtfied , in no common degree , t^vo 
 qualities very rarely united, ambitious ardor 
 of mind and unaffefted modefty. The poet, 
 \vho fpeaks with fnch graceful humility of his 
 literary achievements, had at this time written 
 Comus , a compofition that abundantly difplays 
 the variety'- and compafs of his poetical powers. 
 After he had delineated, with equal excellence, 
 the frolics of gaiety and [the triumphs of virtue, 
 pafhng Avith exquifite tranfition from the moft 
 fportive to the fublimefl tones of poetry, he 
 might have fpoken more confidently of his own 
 produclions \vithout a particle of arrogance. 
 
 We know not exactly what poems he com- 
 pofed during his refidence at Horton. The 
 Arcades feems to have been one of his early 
 compofitions , and it was intended as a com- 
 pliment to his fairjneislibour 5 the accompliflied 
 Countefs Dowager of Derby; flie was the fixth 
 
 fum coinparatus , ut nulla contentione, &' laboribus meis ad 
 tale dfcus & faftiijium laudis ipfa valeam emerijere, tamen quo 
 minus qui earn glonam aff.'cuti funt , aut eo feliciter afpirnnt , 
 illos fcmper colam fi: fufpiciam, nee dii puto nee homines pro- 
 hihtierint. — Miilc.^ folieite quxris, etiam quid cogitem. Audi, 
 Theodate , verum in aurem ut ne rubeam, & ilnito paulifper 
 apud te grandia loquar : quid cogitem quxris? Ita me bonus 
 deus, immortalitatem quid agam vero? TrjipoZva-, & volarme- 
 ditor : fed tenellis admodum adhuc pennis evehit fe nofter Pc- 
 gafus : humile fapiamus. 
 
34 THE L I F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 daughter of Sir John Spencer , and allied to 
 Spencer tlie poet, who, with his ufual niof- fly 
 and tendcrnefs , has celebrated her under rhe 
 title of Amarilli?. At the houfe of this lady , near 
 Uxbridge . Milton is faid to have been a frequent 
 vifitor. The Earl of Bridgewater, before whom , 
 and by whofe children, Conius was reprefented ? 
 had married a daughter of Ferdinando Earl of 
 Dei by, and thus, as Mr. Warton obferves, it 
 was for the fame family that ?vIilton wrote both 
 the Arcades and Comus. It is probable that the 
 pleafure, which the Arcades afforded to the young 
 relations of the Countefs, gave rife to Comus , as 
 Lawes , the mufical friend of Milton , in dedi- 
 cating the mafk. to the young Lord Brackley , her 
 grandfon , fays , " this poem, which received its 
 firft occafion of birth from yourfelf and others 
 of your noble family , and much honor from 
 your own perfon in the performance. " 
 
 Thefe exprefTions of Lawes allude , perhaps , to 
 the real incident, ^vhich is faid to have fuppiied 
 the fubje^ of Comus , and may feem to conlirm. 
 an anecdote related by Mr. AVarton, from a 
 manufcript of Oldys; that the young and noble 
 performers in this celebrated drama were really 
 involved in adventures very fimilar to their thea- 
 trical fituation; that in vifiting their relations, in 
 Herefordlliire , they were benighted in a foreft, 
 and the Lady Alice Egerton actually loft. 
 
 Whatever might be the origin of the maik, 
 the modefty of the youthful poet appears very 
 
(( 
 
 THE LITE OF MILTON. 35 
 
 confpicuous in the following words of Lawes's 
 dedication : " Although not openly acknowled- 
 " ged by the author, yet it is a legitimate off- 
 ipring, fo lovely and fo much defired, that the 
 often copying of it hath tired my pen , to give 
 " my feveral friends fatisfa^iion , and brought 
 " me to a neceffity of producing it to the pub- 
 " lie view. " 
 
 Milton difcovered a fimilar diffidence refpec- 
 ting his Lycidas, which was written while lie 
 lefided with his father, in November, 163;. This 
 exquifiie poem, which, as Mr. Warton juftly 
 obferves , " muft have been either folicited as a 
 '' favor by thofe whom the poet had left in his 
 " college, or w-as a voluntary contribution of 
 " friendHiip fent to them from the country, " 
 appeared firfl in the academical colle^iion of ver- 
 fes on the death of Mr. Edward King, and was 
 iiibfcribed only with the initials of its author. 
 
 An animated and benevolent veteran of criti- 
 cifm , Doctor Warton, has confidered a relifh 
 for the Lycidas as a teft of true tafte in poetry ; 
 and it certainly is a tell, which no lover of Mil- 
 ton Avill be inclined to difpute; though it muft 
 exclude from the lift of accompliHied critics that 
 intemperate cenfor of the great poet, who has 
 endeavoured to deftroy the reputation of his ce- 
 lebrated monody with the moft infulting expref- 
 fions of farcaftic contempt; expreffions that no 
 reader of a fpirit truly poetical can perufe ^vith- 
 out mingled emotions of indignation and of 
 
36 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 pity ! But the charms of Lycidas are of a texture 
 too firm to he annihilated by the breath of de- 
 rihon ; and though Doctor Johnfon has declared 
 the poem to be utterly deftitnte both of nature 
 and of art, it will affuredly continue to be ad- 
 mired as lono; as tendernefs . im.aohiation , and 
 harmony, are regarded as genuine fources of 
 poetical delight. 
 
 The efTe^l of this favorite compofition is exa61- 
 ly fuch as the poet intended to produce; it hrft 
 engages the heart with the hmplicity of ]ui\ and 
 natural forrow , and then proceeds to elevate the 
 mind with magnificent imapes, ennobled by af- 
 fe61ionate and devotional enthufiafm. 
 
 The beauties of this pathetic and fublime mo- 
 nody are fufficiently obvious; but the reader, 
 \vho compares it with a poem on the fame fub- 
 ]e3. by Cleveland , once the popular rival of 
 Milton , may derive pleafure from perceiving 
 how infinitely our favorite poet has excelled , 
 on this occafion, an eminent antagonift. 
 
 Though we find no circumftances , that niay 
 afcertain the date of the Allegro and Penforofo , 
 it feems probable , that thofe two enchanrincr 
 pictures of rural life , and of the diverfified de- 
 lights arifing from a contemplative mind , ^vere 
 compofed at Horton. It was, perhaps, in the 
 fame fituation , fo favorable to poetical exer- 
 tions, that Milton wrote the incomparable Latin 
 poem addreffed to his father. There are, in- 
 deed , fome expreflions in this performance , 
 
THE LIFT, or IVl T L T O N. J/ 
 
 which may favor an opinion, that it ought to 
 bear an earlier date ; but it has fnch ftrength 
 and manhnefs of fentiment, as incline me to fup- 
 pofe it written at this period; an idea that feems 
 almoa confirmed by the lines, that fpeak of his 
 apphcation to French and Italian ; after the com- 
 pletion of his clalhcal fludies. 
 
 Whatever date may be afligned to it, the com- 
 pofition defervcs our particular regard , imce, of 
 all his poems, it does the higheft honor to liis 
 heart. 
 
 With what energy and tendernefs is his filial 
 gratitude exprelfed in the following graceful 
 exordium : 
 
 Nunc mea Pierios cupitim per pectoia fontes 
 Irriguas torquere vias , totiimque per ora 
 Volvere laxatum gemino de vercice rivum, 
 Ut tenues oblita fonos , audacibus alis 
 Surgat in offxium venerandi mufa parentis. 
 Hoc utcunque tib: gratiim, pater optinie, carmen 
 Exiguiun meditatur opus : nee novimus ipfi 
 Aptius a nobis qux poflint munera donis 
 Refpondere tuis, quamvis nee maximn poflint 
 Refpondere tuis , nedum ut par gratia donis 
 EiTe queat, vacuis quae redditur arida verbis. 
 
 O that Pieria's fpring would thro' my breaft 
 
 Pour it's infpiring influence, and rufh 
 
 No rill, but rather an o'er-flowing flood ! 
 
 That for my venerable father's fake. 
 
 All meaner themes renounc'd, my mufe, on wings 
 
38 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Of duty borne, might reach a loftier ftrain ! ' 
 For thee, my father, howfoe'cr it pleafe, 
 She frames this flender work; nor know I aught 
 That may thy gifts more fuitably requite; 
 Tho' to requite them fuitably would afk 
 Returns much nobler , and furpaffing far 
 The meager gifts of verbal gratitude. 
 
 How elegant is the praife he beftows on the 
 mufical talents of his father, and how pleafmg 
 the exulting and affectionate fpirit with which he 
 fpeaks of their focial and kindred fludies ! . 
 
 Nee tu perge, precor, facras contemnere Mufas, 
 Nee vanas inopefque puta , quarum ipfe peritus 
 Munere , niille fonos numeros componis ad aptos, 
 MilHbus & vocem modulis variare canoiam 
 Doctus, Arionii merito fis nominis hsres. 
 Nunc tibi quid mirum , fi me genuilTe poetam 
 Contigerit , charo fi tam prope fanguine jundi, 
 Cognatas artes , ftudiumque affine fequamur? 
 Ipfe volens Phoebus fe difpertire duobus , 
 Altera dona mihi , dedit altera dona parenti ; 
 Dividuumque deum, genitorque puerque, tenemus. 
 Tu tamen ut fimules teneras odifle camoenas , 
 Non odi'Te reor; neque enim, pater, ire jubebas 
 ^ua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri, 
 Certaque condendi fulget fpes aurea nummi : 
 Nee rapis ad leges, male cuftoditaque gentis 
 Jura, ncc infuifis camnas c'amoribus aures; 
 Sed magis excukam cupiens ditefcere mentem, 
 
T H E I. I F E r M T T, T O N. Sg 
 
 Me procul urbano ftrepitu, fecefTibus altis 
 Abductum , Aoniie jucunda per ctia ripie, 
 Phcebxo iateri comitem finis ire bearum. 
 
 Nor thou perfiR-, I pray thee , Hill to llight 
 
 The facred Nine , and to imagine vain 
 
 And ufelefs, powers, by whom infpir'd, thyfelf, 
 
 Art fkilful to alfociate verfe with airs 
 
 Harmonious, and to give the human voice 
 
 A thoufand modulations! Heir by right 
 
 Indifputable of Arion's fame ! 
 
 Now fay ! \C'hat wonder is it if a fon 
 
 Of thine delight in verfe; if, fo conjoin'd 
 
 In clofe affinity, we fympathize 
 
 In fecial arts, and kindred Itudies fweet : 
 
 Such diftribution ofhimfelfto us. 
 
 Was Phoebus' choice ; thou haft thy gift , and I 
 
 Mine alfo , and between us w^e receive, 
 
 Father and fon , the whole infpiring God. 
 
 No ! howfoe'er the fcmblance thou affume 
 
 Of hate, thou hatcft not the gentle mufe, 
 
 J\ly father ! for thou never bad'll me tread 
 
 The beaten path and broad , that leads right on 
 
 To opulence ; nor didft condemn thy fon 
 
 To the infipid clamors of the bar , 
 
 To laws voluminous and ill oblerv'd ; 
 
 But wifhing to enrich me more , to fill 
 
 My mind with treafure, ledft me far away 
 
 From civic din to deep retreats, to banks 
 
 And ftreams Aonian, and with free confent 
 
 Didft place me happy at Apollo's fide. 
 
40 THE L I F E O F MILTON. 
 
 The poet feems to have liad a prophetic view 
 of the lingular cahimnies , that awaited liis repu- 
 tation , and to have anticipated his triumph , over 
 all his adverfaries , in the following magnanimous 
 exclamation : 
 
 Efte procul vigiles curae ! procul efte querelje ! 
 Invidiceque acies tianrveiTo toitilis hirqiio ! 
 ScEva nee anguiferos extende calumnia liclus: 
 In me trifte nihil, foedidima tuiba, poteftis, 
 Nee veltri fum juris ego ; fecuraque tutus 
 Peclora, vipereo gradiar fublimis ab ictu. 
 
 Away then, fleeplefs care I complaint away! 
 And envy " with thy jealous leer malign ;" 
 Nor let the moniler calumny fncwc forth 
 Her venom'd tongue at me ! Dcteited foes ! 
 Ye all are impotent againft my peace ; 
 For I am privileg'd, and bear my breaft 
 Safe , and too high for your viperian wound. 
 
 After this high ton'd burft of confidence and 
 indignation , how fweetly the poet finks again 
 into the tender notes of gratitude, in the clofe of 
 this truly filial compofition ! 
 
 At tibi, chare pater, poftquam non squa merenti 
 Polle referre datur , nee dona rependere fadis , 
 Sit memoralfe fatis, repetitaque munera grato 
 Percenfere animo, fidsque reponere menti. 
 Et vos,0 noltri, juvenilia carmina, lufus , 
 Si modo perpetuos fperare audebitis annos, 
 
 Et 
 
THE L I P E OF MILTON. 4I 
 
 Et domini fuperefTe rogo , luccmque tueri , 
 Nee fpiflb rapient oblivia nigra fub orco; 
 FoiTitan has laudes , decantatumque parentis 
 Komen, ad exemplum, fero fervabitis ^vo. 
 
 But thou, my father, fince to render thanks 
 
 Equivalent, and to requite by deeds 
 
 Thy liberality, exceeds my power, 
 
 Suffice it that I thus record thy gifts, 
 
 And bear them treafur'd in a grateful mind. 
 
 Ye too, the favorite paftime of my youth, 
 
 i\Iy voluntary numbers, if ye dare 
 
 To hope longevity, and to furvive 
 
 Your mafter's funeral , not foon abforb'd 
 
 In the oblivious Lethsan gulph , 
 
 Shall to futurity perhaps convey 
 
 This theme, and by thefe praifes of my fire 
 
 Improve the fathers of a dillant age. 
 
 " He began now , " fays Johnfon , " to grow 
 " weary of the country, and had fome purpofe 
 '• of taking chambers in the inns of court." 
 
 This wearinefs appears to have exifted only 
 in the fancy of his biographer. During the five 
 years that Milton refided with his parents , in 
 Buckinghamfliire , he had occafional lodgings 
 in London , which he vifited , as he informs us 
 himfelf, for the purpofe of buying books, and 
 improving himfelf in mathematics and in mufic, 
 at that time his favorite amufements. The let- 
 ter , which intimates his intention of taking cham- 
 bers in the inns of court, was not written from 
 
 5. 
 
42 T H E L I F E O 1- M I L T () N. 
 
 the country, as his biographer feems to have fup- 
 pofed; it is dated from London , and only ex- 
 prefles, that his quarters there appeared to him 
 awkward and mconvenient *. 
 
 On the death of liis mother , who died in 
 April , 163; , and is buried in the Chancel of 
 Horton church, he obtained his father's permif- 
 fion to gratify his eager defire of vihting the con- 
 tinent, a permilTion the more readily granted, 
 perhaps, as one of his motives for viliting Italy 
 was to form a colle^iion of Italian mufic. 
 
 Having received fome direciions for his travels 
 from the celebrated Sir Henry Wotton , .he went, 
 with a hngle fervant, to Paris, in i63S; he was 
 there honored by the notice of Lord Scuda- 
 more, the Englifli ambaffador, who, at his ear- 
 neft defire , gave him an introdu61ion to Gro- 
 tins , then refiding at Paris as the minifler of 
 Sweden. 
 
 Cnriofity is naturally excited by the idea of 
 a conference between two perfbns fo emiPient i 
 and accomplillied. It has been conj textured , i 
 that Milton might conceive 'his fiifl: defign of 
 writing a tragedy on the banilhment of Adam 
 from this interview with Grotius ; but if the 
 Adamus Exful of the Swedilh ambaffador were a 
 
 * Dicnm jam nunc ferio quid cogitem, in hofpitium juridico- 
 rum' aliquod immigrare, ficubi amcena & umbrofa anibulalio 
 eft, quod & inter aliquot fodales , commodior illic habitatio, fi 
 manere, & op^WTHP/or iV7rpi7re(repov quocunquc libitum erit ex- 
 eurrcre: ubi nunc fum , ut nofti, ob£cure & an^ufte fum. 
 
T H 11 I, 1 1' E O f iM 1 L T O N. 4'} 
 
 fnhiec^ of their riifcouife , it is probable its au- 
 thor muft have Ipoken of it but flightly, as a 
 juvenile compolition , fince he does lb in a let- 
 ter to his tiiend Voihus , in 1616, concerning a 
 new edition of his poetry ; from which he par- 
 ticularly excluded this facred drama, as too pu- 
 erile, in his own judgment to be re-publilhed. '■'' 
 
 The letters of Grotius, voluminous and cir- 
 cumftantial as they are, afford no traces of this 
 interefting vifit; but they lead me to imagine, 
 that the point , wliich the learned ambaliador 
 moft warmly recommended to Milton , on his 
 departure for Italy, was, to pay the kindeft 
 attention in his power to the fuflerings of Gali- 
 leo , then perfecuted as a prifoner by the incjui- 
 fition in Florence. 
 
 In a letter to Voflius , dated in the very 
 month when Milton was probably introduced to 
 Grotius, that liberal friend to fcience and huma- 
 nity fpeaks thus of Galileo : " This old man, to 
 whom the univerle is fo deeply indebted , worn 
 out with maladies, and flill more with anguifh 
 of mind, gives us little reafon to hope, that his 
 life can be long; common prudence, therefoi^e , 
 fuggefts to us to make the utmoft of the time , 
 while we can yet avail onrfelves of fuch an 
 
 * Chriftiim patientem reciidendum judico , ideoque velim ali- 
 quod ejus exemplum ad me mitti , lit errata typographica corri- 
 gam , fjiiando ipfe nullum habeo. Adami Exulis poema juvenilius 
 eft quam ut atifiin adders. Grotii Epift. 77. 
 
44 THE LIFEOF MILTON. 
 
 inflru^^or*. " Milton was, of all traveller? . the 
 mcfl: likely to feize a hint of this kind \\ith avidity , 
 andexpreffions in Paradife Loft have led an Italian 
 biographer of the poet to fnppofe, that while he 
 refided at Florence he caught from Galileo, or 
 his difciples , fome ideas approaching towards the 
 Newtonian philofophy. He ha? informed us him- 
 felf, that he really faw the illuftrious fcientific 
 prifoner of the inquihtion, and it feems not un- 
 reafonable to conclude, that he was in fome de- 
 cree indebted to his conference with Grotius for 
 that mournful gratification. 
 
 From Paris our author proceeded to Italy , 
 embarking at Nice for Genoa. After a curfory 
 view of Leghorn and Pila, he fettled for two 
 months at Florence; a city, whicli he particu- 
 larly regarded for the elegance of its language , 
 and the men of genius it had produced; here, as 
 he informs us, he became familiar with many 
 perfons diftinguiHied by their rank and learning; 
 and here , probably , he began to form thofe 
 great, but unfettled, projects of future compo- 
 fition , which were to prove the fources of his 
 glory, and of which he thus fpeaks himfelf: 
 
 " In the private academies of Italy , whither I 
 '^ was favoured to refort, perceiving that fome 
 ** trifles I had in memory, compofed at under 
 
 * Senex is, optime de iiniverfo meritiis, mnrbo frncliis, infu- 
 pcr & animi xgritudine , hand multiim nobis vitx fiix promittit; 
 quare priulentix erit arripere tempiis , dum tanto doftore iiti 
 licet. Grotii Epift. 964. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON, 4^ 
 
 " twenty, or thereabout (for the manner is, 
 " th.it every one mafc give fonie proof oi his 
 " wit and reading there) met \vith acceptance 
 ** above what was looked for , and other tilings, 
 " which 1 held ihifted, in fcarcity of books and 
 " conveniency, to patch up amonglt tJiem, were 
 '• received ^vith written encomiums , which the 
 " Italian is not forward to l^ellow on men of 
 " tiiit) iide the Alps, I began thus far to affent 
 '' both to them, and divers of my friends here 
 '• at home, and not lefs to an in^va^d prompting, 
 " which now grew daily upon me, that by la- 
 " IxDur and intent fludy , (which I take to be 
 " my portion in t'lis life) joined with tlie itrong 
 " propenfity of nature, I might, perhaps, leave 
 " Ibmeiliing fo written to after- times as they 
 " ilioiUd not williufrly let it die. Thefe thoughts 
 '• at once poffeifed me, and tiiefe other, that if 
 " I were certain to ^vrite as men buy leafes, for 
 " three lives and downward , there ought no re- 
 " gard to be fooner had than to God's glory, by 
 " the honour and inflruction oi my country; 
 "• for which caule, and not only for that l» knew 
 '• it would be hard to arrive at the fecond rank 
 " among the Latins, I applied myfelf to that re- 
 ^' folution, which Arioflo followed againit tlie 
 " perluafions of Bembo, to fix all the indullry 
 " and art I could unite to the adorning of my 
 " native tongue; not to make verbal curiofities 
 " the end, (that were a toilfome vanity) but to 
 " be an interpreter and rekter of the befi and 
 
46 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 '* fageft things among mine own citizens througii- 
 " out this ifland in the mother dialed ; that 
 " what the oreateft and choiceft wits of Athens , 
 " Rome, or modern Italy, and thofe Hebrews 
 " of old, did for their country, I in my pro- 
 " portion, with this over aid above of being 
 " a Chriftian , might do for mine , not caring to 
 " be once named al^road, though perhaps, I 
 " conld attain to tliat, but content with thefe 
 " Britilh iflands as my world." Prole Works, 
 vol. 1. p. 62. 
 
 It is delightful to contemplate fuch a character 
 as Milton , thus cherifhing , in his own mind , 
 the feeds of future greatnefs , and animating his 
 youthful fpirit with vihons of renown, that tnne 
 has realized and extended beyond his moft fan- 
 guine wiihes. 
 
 He appears , on every occafion , a fmcere and 
 fervent lover of his country, and expreffes , in 
 one of his Latin Poems, the lame patriotic idea, 
 that he fhould be fatisfied with glory confined to 
 thefe Iflands. 
 
 Mi fatis amp!a 
 Merces , & mihi gtande deous (fim Ignotus in aeviim 
 Tum licet, exteino penitufque ingloiius oibi ) 
 Si me flava comas le^ai: Ula, i.^: pocor j\launi , 
 Vol tic'burque fitquens Ab:a, & ncmus omnc Tieantas, 
 Et Ti^ain^Os m^is ante omnes, & fiiica mctaliis 
 Tamaia, & extrtinis me difcant 0; cades unc! s. 
 
 F.pi^aphiiim namnni^:. 
 
T HE LIFE or MI L TON. 47 
 
 And it fhall uxl! fuffice me, anJ Hiall be 
 
 Fame and proud recompence enough for me, 
 
 If Ufa golden hair'd my verfe may learn ; 
 
 If A'ain, bending o'er his cryftal urn , 
 
 Swift vhirling Abra , Trent's o'erfhadow'd ftream , 
 
 IF, lovelier far than all in my viteem , 
 
 Thames, ani the Tamar ting'd with mineral hues. 
 
 And northern Orcades , ref.'ard my mufe. 
 
 In tiacing the literary nmbition of Milton from 
 the (irfl cojiccption of his Cerent purpofes to their 
 accomplifhrnent , we feem to p.irticipate in the 
 triumph of liis genins, which, thong;h it afpired 
 only to the praife of thefr^ Brin'fh iflands, is already 
 grown an ohjeci oFunivfrfal admiration, and may 
 find hereafter, i-i th.e weftern world, the ampleft 
 theatre of his n;lory. 
 
 Dr. Joh.nfon takes occafion , from the pafTage in 
 which Milton fpenks of the lirerary proje^is he 
 conceived in Italy, to remark*, that "■ he liai a 
 " lofty and fleady confidence in h.imfelf, perliaps 
 no', rvidiontfome contempt of others, " The latter 
 part of this o^;fer^•a'"ion is evidently invidions ; it 
 is completely refuted by the vnrions commenda-' 
 tions , Avhicli th'^ grracefnl atid engaging nranners 
 of the poetical traveller rece!^'ed from the Italiin^: 
 a contemptnons fynrit, indeed, appear? irt'-rly 
 incompatible ^vith the native difpofition of Mil- 
 ton , whofe generous enthnhafm led iiirn to con- 
 ceive the fondefl: vent-ration for all , whc n-ere 
 diflingnilhed by genius or virtue ; a dii})oliiion , 
 which he has exprefl'ed in ^I;e HroncK'R ^erm" . as 
 
4? T H E L I !• £ O F M 1 L T O N. 
 
 the reader may recoiled , in a letter , already- 
 cited , to his friend Diodati ! His prejudiced bio- 
 grapher endeavours to prove , that Iiis fpirit vvl.s 
 contemptuous, by obferving, tliat he \vas frugal 
 ot his praife. The argument is particularly dc- 
 fe^iive, as applied to Milton on his travels; fmce 
 the praifes he bellowed on thofe accompliflied 
 foreigners, who were kind to him, are liberal in 
 the higheft degree , and apparently dictated by 
 the heart. 
 
 After a fhort vifit to Sienna, he refided two 
 months in Rome, enjoying the moft refined fo- 
 ciety, which that city could afford. By the fa- 
 vor of Holftenius, tlie well known librarian of 
 the Vatican (whofe kindnefs to him he lias re- 
 corded in a Latin Epifile equally grateful and 
 elegant) he was recommended to the notice of 
 Cardinal Barberini, who honored him with the 
 moft flattering attention; it was at the concerts 
 of the Cardinal that he was captivated by tlie 
 charms of Leonora Baroni , whofe extraordinary 
 mufical powers he has celebrated in Latin verfe, 
 and whom he is fuppofed to addrefs as a lover 
 in his Italian poetry. The moft eloquent of the 
 paftions, which is faid to convert almoft every 
 man who feels it info a poet, induced the ima- 
 gination of Milton to try its i^owers in a fo- 
 reign language , whofe difficulties he feems to 
 have perfectly fubdued by the united aids of 
 genius and of love. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 49 
 
 His Italian fonnets have been liberally com- 
 mended by natives of Italy, and one of them 
 contains a ilvetch of his own charader, fo fpi- 
 rited and fingular as to claim a place in this 
 narrative. 
 
 Giovane piano , e femplicetto amante 
 Poiche fuggir me ftefTo in dubio fono, 
 Madonna a voi del mio ci;or 1' humil dono 
 Faro divoto; io ccrto a prove tante 
 
 L' ebbi fedele, intrepido, coftante , 
 Di Penfieri leggiadri accorto, e buono; 
 Q^uando rugge il grand mondo , c fcocca il tuono, 
 S' arma di fc, c d' intero diamante; 
 
 Tanto del forfe, e d' invidia ficuro, 
 Di timori , e fpcranze , al popol life , 
 Ouanto d' ingcgno , e d'alto valor vago , 
 
 E di cetra fonora, e delle mufe : 
 
 Sol troveretc in tal parte men dure, 
 Ove amor mife 1' infanabil ago. 
 
 Enamour'd, artlefs, young, on foreign ground, 
 Uncertain whether from myfelf to i^y, 
 To thee, dear lady, with an humble figh , 
 Let me devote my heart, which I have found 
 
 By certain proofs, not few, intrepid, found. 
 Good, and addicted to conceptions high : 
 When tempeft fliakes the world, and fires the fky. 
 It rclls in adamant, felf wrapt around, 
 
 As fdfe from envy and from outrage rude. 
 
 From hopes and fears that vulgar minds abufe. 
 
5o THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 As fond of genius , and fixt folitude , 
 Of the rcfoundlng lyre, and every mufc : 
 
 Weak you will find it in one only part, 
 Now picrc'd by love's immedicable dart. 
 
 It was at Rome that Milton was compliment- 
 ed, in Latin verfe, by Selvaggi and Salfilli : his 
 reply to the latter, then fiiffering from a fevere 
 malady, is fo remarkable for its elegance, ten- 
 dernefs, and fpirit, that Mr. Warton praifes it 
 as. one of the fincft lyrical compohtions, which 
 the Latin poetry of modern times can exhibit. 
 
 The circumflances that happened to our au- 
 thor in his travels, and, indeed, the moft flrik- 
 ing particulars of his life , are related by himfelf, 
 in his '* Second Defence. " He there tells us , 
 that in pafhng; from Rome to Naples his fellow- 
 traveller was a hermit, who introduced him to 
 Baptifta Manfo , Marquis of \^illa, an accom- 
 plifhed nobleman , and fingnlarly diftinguiihed as 
 the friend and the biographer of two emir.ent 
 poets, Taflo and Marini ; they have both left 
 poetical memorials of their f fitem for the Mar- 
 quis , Avho acquired his ti>]e as a Ibldier in tlie 
 fervice of Spain, but retiring early, w'ith con- 
 fiderable wealth, to Naples, his native city , he 
 founded there a literary acadeijiy, and lived in 
 fplendor as its prefident. 
 
 This graceful and venerable hero, whofe po- 
 litenefs and learning had been fondly celebra'ed 
 by Tnik) , in a dialogue on friendfliip, that bears 
 
T H E L I F £ O F iM I L T O N. 3l 
 
 the name of Manfo , was near eighty when Mil- 
 ton became his gueft : he feems to liave been en- 
 deared to tlie imagination of our .poet by the 
 liberal and afTeciionate tribute he had paid to 
 the memory of his illuftrious poetical friends; a 
 tribute very feelingly defcribed by Milton in the 
 followins lines, addreffed to the noble and gene- 
 rous biographer — they fpeak hrft of Marini: 
 
 Ille itidem moriens tibi foil debira vates 
 
 OfTa , tibi foli , fupremaqiie vota reliquit : 
 
 Nee manes pietas tua chara fefellit amici; 
 
 Vidimus arridentem operofo ex a^re poetam : 
 
 Nee fatis hoc vifum eft in utrumque; & nee pia 
 
 ceflant 
 Offieia in tumulo ; eupis integros rapere orco, 
 Q^ua potes, atque avidas Paiearum eludere leges: 
 Ambovum genus, & varia fub forte peradam , 
 Defcribis vitam, morcfque, & dona AlinervEe, 
 ^miihis illius , MycaJen qui natus ad altam, 
 Retulit li'.old vitam facundus Homeri. 
 
 To thee alone the poet would intruil 
 His lateil vows,- to thee alone hb duR. : 
 And thou with pundual picry haft paid , 
 In labor'ds biafs , tl.y tiibuto to his lliade ; 
 Nor this contented thee; thy zeal would fave 
 Thy bards uninjur'd fiom the v/helming grave; 
 In more indiiring hiftory to live 
 An endlefs life is alfo thine to give ! 
 And tliou haft given it them ; and deigned to 
 teach 
 
J? THE LIFE OF iM I L T O N. 
 
 The maun SI s , fortunes, lives, and gifts of each, 
 Rival to him, whofe p-n , to nature true, 
 The life of Honier eloquently drew ! 
 
 If the t\\'o Latin verfes, in ^vhich this amiable old 
 man expreffed liis admiration of tlie yonng I^ng- 
 Itih bard, deierve the name of a " forry difcich , " 
 ^vhich John!on bellows upon them , thev ftill 
 prelent rvlilton to our faiicy in a mofl; favoiihle 
 light. A iravellc-r,fo little diftinguiihed by birth 
 or opulence , would hardly have obtained fnch 
 a complimient from a nobleman of Manfo's ex- 
 periejice , age , and digi:;itY , had he not been 
 peculiarly iorm.ed to engage the good opinion 
 and courtefy of firangers , by tlie expreuive come- 
 linefs of his perfon , the ele^^ince of liis manners , 
 and the charm of his converf.itiou. 
 
 In Manfo , fays Milton , I found a mofl: friendly 
 guide, who fiio\ved me himfclf the curiofiticc of 
 Naples, aiid the palace of the \'iceroy. He cinie 
 more than once to vifit me, ^^vhile I conti- 
 nued in that city ; and when I lelt it , he e ir- 
 nefl:ly excufed himfelf, that althou?Ji he greatly 
 wifhed to render me more L:ood offices, he \vas 
 unable to do fo in Naples, bccaufe in my reli- 
 gion I liad difdained all difguife '•'. 
 
 "^ Noapolim perrcxi : illic per ercmitam c|nenJam , cjninini 
 Romn iter feccram, nd Joannem Baptii};ini Manfum , Marchio- I 
 ncm Villenrem , viriim nohiliflimiim lUque gravitfimiim ( ad 
 quern Toiqiiatu'; TafTiis , infrj^nis pocca Italus , de aniicitia 
 fcripfit) fum introdiiifbiisf eodcmriue nfus, quamdiu ilhic f ni , 
 
THE L I F r. OF LT I L T O N. 53 
 
 Pledfing; and honorable as the civilities were 
 that onr young countryman received Irom ''this 
 KeOor of Italy, he has amply rej^aid them in 
 a noem, Avhicli. to the honor of Engliili gratitude 
 and EngliJh genius, we may juftly pronounce 
 fuperior to the compliments beflowed on this en- 
 £Taging chara6fer by the two celebrated poets , who 
 Aviote in his o^vn language, and 'Nvere peculiarly 
 attached to him. 
 
 Of the five fonnets, indeed, that TaiTo ad- 
 dreiTed to his courteous and liberal friend, two 
 are very beautiful ; but even thefe are furpafled, 
 both in energy and tendernefs , by the foUowmg 
 conclufion of a poem, infcribed to Manfo, by 
 Milton. 
 
 Diis dilecte fcnex" , te Jupiter ffiqiius oportet 
 Nafcentcm , & mici lufbiarit lumine Phoebus, 
 Atlantifque r.epos; neque enim , nifi charus ab ortu 
 Dii fuperis , poterit magno favUTe poetfe. 
 Hinc longsva tibi lento fub fiore feneclus 
 Vernat , & iEfonios lucratur vivida tufos ; 
 Nondum deciduos fervans tibi frontis honores, 
 Ingeniumque vigens, & adultum mentis acumen, 
 mihi fi mea fors talem concedat am-cuni , 
 Phosbaeos decoralTe viros qui tarn bene norit, 
 
 fane amiciffimo; qui & ipfe me per iirbis loca & proregis aiilam 
 circimiiUixit, & vifendi gratia baud femcl ipfe ad hofpitium vc- 
 nit : difcedenci ferio exciifavit fe, tametfi multo phira detuliffe 
 mihi cfficia maxime ciipiebat, non potuiffe ilia, in urhe, prop- 
 terea quod nolebam in religione elTe tectiur. — Defenfio fecunda. 
 
54 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Slqiiando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges , 
 Arturumque eciam Tub terris bella moventem ! 
 Aut dicam invidx fociali foedere menfas 
 Magnanimos heroas; &, modo fpiritus adfiC, 
 Frangam Saxonicas Britoiiiim Tub marte phalanges ! 
 ^ Tandem ubi non tacits pevm^nfus tenipora vitae, 
 Annorumque fatur , cineri fua jura relinquam, 
 Hie mihi ledo madidis aftaret ocellis , 
 Aftanti fat erit fi dicam, fim tib'i curae ; 
 Hie meos artus, Hventi morte folutos , 
 Curaret paiva compon; moiliter iirn'i; 
 Forfitan & nollros di^cat de marmore vultus , 
 Nedtens aut Paphia myrti aut ParnafTide lauri 
 Fronde comas ; at ego fecura pace quiefcam. 
 Turn quoque, fi qua fides, fi ptfemia certa bonorum, 
 Ipfe ego coelicolum femotus in xthera divum, 
 Quo labor & mens pura vehunc, atque ignea virtus, 
 Secret! haec aliqua Mundi de parte videbo , 
 Q^uantum fata finunt : & tota mente ferenum 
 Ridens , purpureo fuifundar lumine vultus , 
 Et fmul sthereo plaudam mihi l^tus olympo. 
 
 Well may we think , dear to all above , 
 Thy birth diftinguifh'd by the fmile of Jove, 
 And that Apol'o fhed his kindlieft power. 
 And Maia's fon , on that propitious hour; 
 Since only minds fo born can comprehend 
 A poet's worrh , or yield that worth a friend : 
 Hence on thy yet unfaded cheek appears 
 The lingering freflinefs of thy greener years; 
 Hence in thy front and features we admire 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 5^ 
 
 Nature iinwicher'd , and a mind entire. 
 
 might ib true a friend to mc belong, 
 So fkiil'd to i',iace the votaries of fong. 
 Should I recal hereafter into rhyme 
 
 The kings and heroes of my native clime , 
 Arthur the chief, who even now prepares 
 In fubterraneous being future wars , 
 "With m his martial knights to be reftor'd , 
 Each to his feat aiound the fed'ral board; 
 And O! if fpirit fail me not, difperfe 
 Our Saxon plunderers in triumphant verfe ; 
 Then after all, when with the paft content, 
 A life I finifh , not in filence fpent, 
 Should he, kind mourner, o'er my death bed 
 bend , 
 
 1 fhall but need to fay " be ftill my friend ! " 
 He, faithful to my duit , with kind concern, 
 Shall place it gently in a modeit urn ; 
 
 He too, perhaps, fhall bid the maible breathe 
 
 To honor me, and with the graceful wreath, 
 
 Or of Parnaflus , or the Paphian We , 
 
 Shall bind my brows — but I fliall reft the while. 
 
 Then alfo , if the fruits of faith endure , 
 
 And virtue's promis'd recompence be fure , 
 
 Borne to thofe feats, to which the bleft afpirs, 
 
 By purity of foul and virtuous fire, 
 
 Thefe rites, as fate permits , I fhall furvey 
 
 With eyes illumin'd by celeftial day. 
 
 And , every cloud from my pure fpirit driven , 
 
 Joy in the bright beatitude of heaven. 
 
56 T H L L I r £ O F M 1 L T O N. 
 
 The preceding veiTes have various claims to 
 attention ; they exhibit a hvcly pidnre of the 
 literary proieft that occupied the mind of Milton 
 at this period ; they forcibly prove with what 
 vehemence of dehre he panted for poetical im- 
 mortality , and for the fuperior re^vards of a la- 
 borious life, devoted to piety and virtue. 
 
 His acquaintance with Manfo may oe regarded 
 as the moft fortunate incident of his foreign ex- 
 curfion. Nothing could have a greater tendency 
 to preferve and flrengthen the feeds of poetic 
 enterprife in the mind of the young traveller , 
 than his familiarity with this eminent ad engaging 
 perfonage , the bofom friend of Tallo ; the friend 
 who had cheriflied that great and aifli^led poet 
 under his roof in a feafon of his mental calamity, 
 had rcflored his health , re-animated his fancy, 
 and given a religious turn to the lateft efforts of 
 his majeflic mule. The very life of I'affo, which 
 this noble biographer had written with the co- 
 pious and minute fidelity of perfonal knowledge, 
 and with the ardor of affe6iionate enthuhafm , 
 might be fufficient to give new energy to Milton's 
 early pafTion for poetical renown: his converfation 
 had, probably, a ftill greater tendency to pro- 
 duce this effe61. Circumllances remote , and ap- 
 parently of little moment, have often a marvel- 
 lous influence on the Avorks of imagination ; nor 
 is it too wild a conjecture to fuppofe , that the 
 zeal of Manfo , in fpeaking to Milton of his de- 
 parted friend, might give force and permanence 
 
 to 
 
THE LIFE or MILTON. 5; 
 
 to that literary ambition, which ultimately render- 
 ed his afpiring gnefl the great rival of TafTo , and , 
 in the eflimation of Engliflimen , his fuperior. 
 
 From Naples it was the defign of Milton to 
 pafs into Sicily and Greece ; but receiving intelli- 
 gence of the civil war in England , he felt it in- 
 confiftent with his principles to wander abroad , 
 even for the improvement of his mind, while his 
 countrymen were contending for liberty at home. 
 
 In preparing for his return to Rome , he was 
 cautioned againfl it by fome mercantile friends, 
 whofe letters intimated , that he had much to 
 apprehend from the machinations of Englifh je- 
 fuits , if he appeared again in that city ; they 
 were incenfed againft him by the freedom of his 
 difcourfe on topics of religion : " 1 had made it 
 a rule ( fays Milton ) never to flart a religious 
 fubje^^ in this country; but if I were queftioned 
 on my faith , never to diffemble , whatever I 
 might fuffer. I returned , neverthelefs, to Rome," 
 continues the undaunted traveller , " and , when- 
 ever I was interrogated , I attempted no difguife: 
 if any one attacked my principles , I defended 
 the true religion in the very city of the pope, 
 and , during almofl two months , with as much 
 freedom as I had ufed before. By the prote£lion 
 of God I returned fafe again to Florence , re-vifit- 
 ing friends, who received me as gladly as if I 
 had been reftored to my native home *. " 
 
 * In Sicilian! quoque & Grsciam trajicere volentem me, triftis 
 ex Anglia belli civilis nuntiusrevocavit; turpe enim exiftimabani 
 
58 THE LIFE OF MILTON, 
 
 After a fecond relidence of almoft two months 
 in Florence, whence he made an excurfion to 
 Liicca 5 a place endeared to him by having pro- 
 duced the anceftors of his favorite friend Dio- 
 dati, he extended his travels through Bologna 
 and Ferrara to Venice. Here , he remained a 
 month, and having fent hence a collection of 
 books , and particularly of Mufic , by fea , he 
 proceeded himfelf through Verona and Milan to 
 Geneva. In this city he ^vas particularly grati- 
 fied by the fociety and kindnefs of John Dio- 
 dati , uncle of his young friend , whofe untime- 
 ly death he lamented in a Latin poem , of which 
 we fiiall foon have occafion to fpeak. Returning 
 by his former road through France , he reached 
 England at a period that leems to have made a 
 flrong imprelTion on his mind , when the king 
 was waging , in favor of epifcopacy , his unprof- 
 perous war with the Scots. The time of Milton's 
 
 dum mei cives domi de libertate dimicarent, ne aninii caufa 
 otiofe peregrinari. Romam autem reverfiiriim , monebant mer- 
 catores fe didiciflfe per literas parari mihi ab jefiiitis Anglis in- 
 fidias, fi Romam reverlerem , eo quod de religione nimis libere 
 loqiuitus effem. Sic enim mecum ftatiieram , de religione qui- 
 dem iis in locis fermones iiltro non inferre i interrogatus de 
 fide, quicquid effem paffiirus, nihil diffimulare. Romam itaqiie 
 nihilominus redii : quid effem, fi quis interrogabat, nemine ce- 
 lavi; fi quis adoriebatur, in ipf^i urbe pontificis, alteros prope 
 duos menfes , orthodoxam religionem , ut antea, liberrime tue- 
 bar : deoque fie volente, incolumis Florentiam rurfus perveni; 
 hand minus mei cupientes revifens, ac fi in patriam revertif- 
 ^em. — Defenfio fecunda. 
 
IHt LIFE OF MILTON. 5q 
 
 abfence from his native country exceeded not, 
 by his own account, a year and three months. 
 
 In the relation that he o;ives himfelf of his 
 return, the name of Geneva recalhng to his mind 
 one of the moll flanderous of his political adver- 
 faries , he animates his narrative by a folemn ap- 
 peal to heaven on his unfpotted integrity 5 he 
 protefls that , during his refidence in foreign 
 fcenes , where licentioufnefs was univerfal , his 
 own conduct was perfe6ily irreproachable *. I 
 dwell the more zealoully on whatever may elu- 
 cidate the moral charadier of Milton , becaufe , 
 even among thofe who love and revere him , 
 the fplendor of the poet has in fome meafure 
 eclipfed the merit of the man ; but in proportion 
 as the particulars of his life are fludied with in- 
 telligence and candor, his virtue will become, 
 as it ought to be , the friendly rival of his genius, 
 and receive its due fliare of admiration and 
 efleem. Men , indeed of narrow minds , and of 
 fervile principles , will for ever attempt to depre- 
 ciate a character fo abfolutely the reverfe of their 
 o\vn ; but liberal fpirits, who allow to others that 
 freedom of fentiment, which they vindicate for 
 themfelves, however they difapprove or oppofe 
 the opinions of the fediary and the republican , 
 
 • * Qu32 urbs , cum in mentem mihi hinc veniat Mori calum- 
 niatoris, facit lit deum hie rurfus teftem invocem , me his omni- 
 bus in locis , ubi tarn miilta licent , ab omni flagitio ac probro 
 integrum atque intailum vixifle , illud perpetuo cogitantem, Q, 
 hominum latere oculos poifem , dei c«rte non poffe. 
 
Co THE 1. 1 F L U F M I L T O N. 
 
 will render honorable and affectionate juf- 
 tice to the patriotic benevolence, the indnftry , 
 and the courage, with which Milton endeavoured 
 to promote what he fmcerely and fervently re- 
 garded as the true intereft of his country. 
 
 We have now attended him to the middle 
 ftage of his life , at w^hich it may not be improper 
 to paide, and make a few remarks xdu the years 
 that are paffed ; and thofe that are yet in prof- 
 pe£l. We behold him, at the age of thirty-two , 
 recalled to England, from a foreign excurfion of 
 improvement and delight, by a manly fenfe of 
 what he owed to his country in a feafon of diffi- 
 culty and danger. His thoughts and condu6f on 
 this occafion are the more noble and becoming, 
 as all his preceding years had been employed in 
 forming , for the moll important purpofes , a 
 firm and lofty mind, and in furnilhing it abund- 
 antly with whatever might be ufeful and honor- 
 able to himfelf and others, in the various exi- 
 gencies and vicifhtudes both of private and public 
 life. We have traced him through a long courfe 
 of infantine , academical , domeflic , and foreign 
 fludy; we have feen him diilinguiflied by ap- 
 plication , docility, and genius; uncommonly 
 attached to his inftruClors, andmofl amiably grate- 
 ful to his parents ; in friendfliip , ardent and 
 fteady ; in love, though tender not intemperate; 
 as a poet, fenfible of his rare mental endow- 
 ments, yet peculiarly modelt in regard to his 
 
THE LIFE OF INI I E T O N. 6 1 
 
 own prodn61ions ; enamoured of glory , yet as 
 ready to beftow as anxious to merit praife; in 
 his perfon and manners fo fafliioned to prepofTefs 
 all men in his favor, that even foreigners gave 
 him credit for thofe high Hterary atchievements, 
 Avhich were to flied peculiar luftre on his latter 
 days , and confidered him already as a man , of 
 whom his country might be proud. 
 
 With fuch accomplifliments , and fuch expec- 
 tations in his behalf, Milton returned to England, 
 the fubfequent portion of his life, however gloomy 
 and ti mpeftuous, will be found to correfpond , 
 at leaf! in the clofe of it, with the radiant promife 
 of his youth. We fliall fee him deferring his fa- 
 vorite haunts of Parnaffus to enter the thorny 
 paths of ecclefiaftical and political diffenfion : 
 his principles as a difputant \vill be condemned 
 and approved, according to the prevalence of 
 oppofite and irreconcileable opinions, that lluc- 
 tuate in the world; but his upright confiftency 
 of condu61 defcrves applaufe from all hon.ell and 
 candid men of every perfuafion. The ?vTufe, in- 
 deed, who had blefl him Avitli fmaular ciulow- 
 meuts , and giv^en him fo lively a fenfe of his 
 being conflituted a poet by nature , that ^vhell 
 he wrote not verfe , he had the ufe , (to borro^v 
 his own forcible expreffion) " but of his left 
 hand;" the Mufe alone mio_ht have a right to 
 reproach him with having acted againf!: inward 
 conviction; but could his mufe have vifibly ap- 
 peared to reprove his defertion of her fervicc in 
 
62 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 a parental remonflrance , he might have anfwered 
 her, as the yocng Harry of Shakefpeare anfwers 
 the tender and keen reproof of his royal father, 
 
 " I will redeem all this , 
 " And in the clofing of fome glorious day 
 " Be bold to tell you that I am your fon. " 
 
 END OF THE FIRST PART. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 63 
 
 Part II. 
 
 INCONCUSSA TENENS DUBIO VESTIGIA ML'NDO. 
 
 LUC AN. 
 
 T, 
 
 HE narrati\-e may proceed from the informa- 
 tion of Milton liimfelf On his return he procu- 
 red a refidence in London , ample enough for 
 himfelf and his books, and felt happy in renew- 
 ing his interrupted ibidies "'. This ftrft eftablilli- 
 ment (as we learn from his nephew) was a lod- 
 ging in St. Bride's Church-yard, where he recei- 
 ved, as his difciples, the two fons of his fifter, 
 John and Ed\vard Philips; the latter is his bio- 
 grapher; but although he has written the life of 
 his illuftrious relation with a degree of laudable 
 
 o 
 
 * Ipfe , ficiibi poITem, tam rebus turbatis & flu£tiiantibii<! , 
 
 locum confifteiidi circumfpiciens mihi librifque meis , fat am- 
 
 plam in iivbe domum condiixi; ibi ad intcrmiffa ftiidia beatuhis 
 
 me recepij reruni exitu deo imprimis & quibus id rauneris po- 
 pulus dabat , facile permilTo. 
 
64 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 pride and afFedionate fpirit, he does not com- 
 municate that abundance of information , which 
 might have been expe^^ed from the advantage 
 he polfefled. In one article his pride has a hidi- 
 crous eiFe£^ , as it leads him into an awkward 
 attempt to vindicate his uncle from the fancied 
 opprobrium of having engaged profefFionally in 
 the education of youth; a profeffion which, 
 from its utility and importance, from the talents 
 and virtues it requires, is unqueftionably entitled 
 to refpe£t. Philips, will not allow that his uncle 
 a61ually kept a fchool , as lie taught only the 
 fons of his particular friends. Johnfon ridicules 
 this diflin^lion , and feems determined to treat 
 Milton as a profeft fchoolmafter , for the fake of 
 attempting to prove, that he did not fuftain the 
 character with advantage, but adopted a vain and 
 prepofterous plan of education. 
 
 " Let me not be cenfured," fays the Doctor, 
 * as pedantic or paradoxical; for if I have Mil- 
 ' ton againft me, I have Socrates on my fide •. 
 ' it was his labor to turn philofophy from the 
 ' ftudy of nature to fpeculations upon life; but 
 ' the innovators, whom I oppofe , are turning 
 ' off attention from life to nature; they feem to 
 ' think that we are placed here to watch the 
 ' growth of plants, or the motions of the ilars; 
 ' Socrates was rather of opinion , that what ^ve 
 ' had to learn was , how to do good and avoid 
 evil. " 
 
 Ot7/ to/ tv fXiyat.pii<rt kolkovt dyctSovli rirviilcti. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON". 65 
 
 This infidlous artifice of reprefenting Milton and 
 I Socrates as antagonifts is peculiarly unfortunate , 
 
 fince no man appears to have imbibed the priii- 
 :, ciples of Socratic wifdom more deeply than our 
 I poet; his regard and attachment to them is fer- 
 ' vently expreded, even in his juvenile letters; tlie 
 ' very maxims of moral truth , he is accufed of 
 
 counteracting , never flione with more luftre tlian 
 I in the following paffase of the Paradife Lofl : 
 
 But apt the mind or fancy is to rove 
 
 Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end, 
 
 Till Avain'd; or by experience taught, flie learn, 
 
 That not to know at large of things Tcniotc 
 
 From life, obfcure and fubtle , but to know 
 
 That, which before us lies in daily life, 
 
 Is the prime wifdom; what is more is fume, 
 
 Or emptinefs , or fond impertinence , 
 
 And renders us in things that moft concern, 
 
 Unpradis'd , unprepar'd , and ftill to feek. 
 
 Thefe beautiful lines are built in fome mea- 
 fure, as Bentley has remarked, upon a verfe of 
 Homer, the very verfe admired by Socrates, 
 which Dr. Johnfon has not fcrupled to quote , 
 as a part of his hngular ill-grounded attempt to 
 prove that Milton's ideas of education were in 
 direct oppohtion to thofe of the great moralift 
 of Greece; an attempt that arofe from a very iu- 
 offenfive boaft of Milton's nephew , who give« a 
 long lift of books perufed by the fcholars of his 
 
65 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 uncle, which merely proves, that they read more 
 books than are ufually read in onr common 
 fchools ; and that their diligent inftru^or thought 
 it advifable for boys, as tliey approach towards 
 fixteen , to blend a little knoAvledre of the fcien- 
 
 o 
 
 ces with tlieir Greek \and Latin, 
 
 That he taug'it the familiar and ufeful doctrine 
 of the Attic philofopher, evenin his lighter poe- 
 try, we h.ave a pleafmg inftance in the following 
 lines of his fonnet to Syiiac Skinner, who was 
 one of his fcholars : 
 
 " To meafure life learn thou betimes and know 
 " Toward folid good what leads the neareft way." 
 
 But his brief treatife, addrefled to Hartlib, af- 
 fords , perhaps , the beft ]:roof that his ideas of 
 moral dil'cipline were perfe^ily in unifon with 
 thofe of Socrates ; he fays , in that treatife , " I 
 " call a complete and generous education tliat, 
 " which fits a man to perform jufily, fkilfully, 
 " and magn.inimonlly , all the offices , both pri- 
 *' vate and public, of peace and war. " Who 
 can define a good education in terms more truly 
 Socratic ? 
 
 Milton , ho^vcve^ in his attachment to mora- 
 lity, forgot not the claims of religion; his Sundays 
 were devoted to theology , and Johnfon duly 
 praifes the care , with which he inflru^ied his 
 fcholars in the ])rimary duties of men. 
 
 With a critic fo fmcerely devout as Johnfon 
 unqneftionably \vas , we might have hoped that 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 6/ 
 
 the fublime piety of our author would have fe- 
 cured him from farcaflic attacks; but we have yet 
 to notice two infults of this kind , whicli the 
 acrimony of uncorre(Sled fpleen has laviHied upon 
 Milton as a preceptor. 
 
 " From tliis wonder-\vorking academy," fays 
 the biographer, " I do not know that there ever 
 *' proceeded any man very eminent for knowledge; 
 " its only genuine produc'l, I believe, is a fmall 
 
 !'• hiitory of poetry , written in Latin by his 
 nephew, of which, perhaps, none of my read- 
 
 I*' ers ever heard. " The contemptuous fpirit 
 and the inaccuracy of this farcafm are equally 
 remarkable. The fcholars of Milton were far from 
 being numerous. Can it be juft to fpeak with 
 derilion of a fmall academy, merely becaufe it 
 
 ! raifes no celebrated author, when we conficlcr 
 how few of that defcription every nation produ- 
 ces? We kno^v little of thofe, who were under 
 the tuition of our poet, except his two nephews; 
 thefe were both writers; and a biographer of 
 Milton Iliould not have utterly forgotten his obli- 
 tion to Edward Philips, if he allowed no credit 
 to his brother, for the fpirited Latin treatife in 
 which that young man appeared as the defender 
 of his uncle. But the ftriking inaccuracy of the 
 critic conhfts in not giving a juft account of a 
 book that particularly claimed his attention , 
 Phihps's Theatrum Poetarum , a book that , un- 
 der a Latin title, contains in Englifli a very com- 
 prehenfive lift of poets , ancient and modern , 
 
6$ THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 with refleclions upon many of them , particularly 
 thofe of our own nation. It is remarkable that 
 this book was hcenfed Sep. 14, 1674, juft two 
 months before the death of Mikon , and prhited 
 the following year. The auth.or affigns an article 
 both to his uncle and his brother. After enume- 
 rating the chief works of the former, he modeflly 
 fays, " how far he hath revived the majefly and 
 " true decorum of heroic poefy and tragedy , it 
 " will better become a perfoii lefs related tjian 
 '' myfelf to deliver his judgment. " 
 
 Though he liere fupprefles a defire to praife 
 his mod eminent relation , it burfts forth in an 
 amiable manner, \vhen he comes to fpeak of his 
 brother; for he calls him, " the maternal nephew 
 " and difciple of an autiior of mod deferved 
 " fame , late deceafed , being the exacteft of heroic 
 " poets ( if the truth were Avell examined , and 
 *' it is the opinion of many, both learned and 
 " judicious perfons) either of the ancients or mo- 
 " derns, either of our own or whatever nation elfe." 
 
 I tranfcribe with pleafure tliis honefl and fim- 
 ple eulogy; it does credit ro the intelh'gr nee and 
 affection of the poet's difciple , and it in fome 
 meafure vindicates the good fenfe of our country, 
 by flio\ving tliatin the very year ofMilton'sdeccnfe, 
 when fome writers have fuppoled tliat his poetical 
 merit was almoft utterly uni^nown, there were per- 
 fons in the nation , who underflood his full value. 
 
 Let us return to the author in his little aca- 
 demy, and tiie fecond farcaflic infult, whicli his 
 biographer h.ts bellowed upon him as the mailer 
 
THE L I r i; OF IM T I. T O N. 69 
 
 of CI fchool. The lodCTino- in which lie fettled, on 
 his arrival from the continent, was foon exchan- 
 ged for a more fpacious houfe and garden , in 
 Alderfgate-ftreet , that fupplied him with conve- 
 niencies for the reception of fcliolars : on this oc- 
 calion Johnfon exclaims , " let not our venera- 
 *' tion for Milton forbid us to look wdth fome 
 " degree of merriment on great promifes and 
 " fmall performance: on the man who haftens 
 " home, becaufe his countrymen are contending 
 *' for their liberty, and, when he reaches the 
 " fcene of action , vapors a\vay his patriotifm 
 " inj a private boarding-fchool. 
 
 To excite merriment by rendering Milton ri- 
 diculous for having preferred the pen to the 
 fword was an enterprife that furpaifed the powers 
 of Johnfon ; the attempt affords a melancholy 
 proof how far prejudice may miflead a very vi- 
 gorous underftanding. What but the blind hatred 
 of bigotry could have tempted one great author 
 to deride another, merely for having thought 
 that he might ferve his country more eifentially 
 by the rare and highly cultivated faculties of his 
 mind , than by the ordinary fervice of a foldier. 
 But let us hear Milton on this fubje^i. We have 
 this obHgation to the malice of his contempora- 
 ries , that it led him to fpeak publicly of himfelf , 
 and to relate , in the moft manly and explicit 
 manner, the real motives of his condud. 
 
 Speaking of the Englifh people , in the 
 commencement of his Second Defence , he 
 
7u THE LIFE OF M I L T O N. 
 
 fays "' " it was the juft vindication of their laws 
 " and their rehgion , that necefiarily led them 
 " into civil war; they have driven fervitiide from 
 " them by the molt honorable arms; in which 
 *' praife, though I can claim no perfonal Ihare, 
 " yet I can eafily defend myfelf from a charge 
 " of timidity or indolence, fliould any inch be 
 " alledged againft me; for I have avoided the 
 " toil and danger of mihtary life only to render 
 " my country affiflance more ufeful , and not 
 " lefs to my own peril , exerting a mind never 
 " deje61ed in adverfity , never influenced by 
 " unworthy terrors of detraftion or of death ; 
 
 * Olios non leguin coiitemptiis aut violatio in efTrsenatam li- 
 centiam eftiulit; non virtutis & glorix falfa fpecies, aiu Ihilta 
 veteruin cemulatio inaui nomine libertatis inceniiit , fed iniiocentia 
 vitx morumqiie Tanditas rectum atquc folum iter ad libertatem 
 veram docuit , Ic^iun & religionis juftilfima defeiifio necelFario 
 armavic. Atque illi quidem Deo perinde confifi , fervitiitem ho- 
 aeftiirimis armis pepulere : ciijus laiidis etfi niiUam partem mihi 
 vindico , a reprclienlione tamen vol timiditatis vel ignavinj,fi 
 qua infertur , facile me tueor. Neque enim militia: lahores & 
 pericula fic defugi , ut nun alia ratione, & operam, multo utilio- 
 rvm,nec minore cum periculo nieis civibus naxarim, & animum 
 diibiis in rebus neque dcmiffum iinquam, neque ullius invidice, 
 vel etiam mortis jlus tequo metuentem prseftiterim. Nam cum ab 
 adolefcentulo humanioribus eirem ftudiis , ut qui maxime dedi- 
 tus, vS; ingenio femper quam corpore validinr, poftliabita caftrenfi 
 opera , qua me gregarius quilibct robuftior facile fuperalTet , 
 ad ea me contuli, quibus plus potui^ ut parte mei meliore ac 
 potiore, li faperem , non deteriore,ad rationcs patrio; , caufamque 
 hanc prsftantifiimam , quantum maxime poffem momentum ac- 
 cederem. 
 
THE LIFE OY MILTON. 7T 
 
 *' fince from my infancy I had been addi£led to 
 " literary purfuits , and was ftronger in mind than 
 " in body , declining the duties of a camp , in 
 " which every miufcular common man muft have 
 " fuipafled me , I devoted myfelf to that kind 
 *' of fervice for which I had the greatefl ability, 
 " that , with the better portion of myfelf , I 
 " might add all the weight I could to the pleas 
 *' of my country and to this mofi: excellent 
 *' caufe. 
 
 He thus juftifies , on the noblefl; ground, the 
 Hue of life he purfued. In the fame compofition 
 he frankly ftates the motives v.hich prompted 
 him to execute each particular work that raifcd 
 him to notice in his new field of controverfy ; 
 but before we attend to the order in which he 
 treated various public queflions that he confi- 
 dered of high mom.ent to his country, it is juft 
 to obferve his fidelity and tendernefs in firft 
 difcharging , as a poet , the duties of private 
 friendlhip. 
 
 Before he quitted Florence , Milton received 
 intelligence of the lofs he had to fuftain , by the 
 untimely death of Charles Diodati , the favorite 
 aflociate of his early fludies. On his arrival in 
 England, the bitternefs of fuch a lofs was felt 
 with redoubled fenfibility by his afTe6iionate 
 heart , which relieved and gratified itfelf by com- 
 memorating the engaging chara£ler of the de- 
 ceafed , in a poem of confiderable length, en- 
 titled J Epitaphium Damonis , a poem mentioned 
 
Tl. THE L 1 I E OF MILTON. 
 
 by Jolinfon with fupercllion? confempt , yet 
 pofieffing fuch beauties as render it pre-eminent 
 in that fpecies of com])ofitioii. 
 
 Many poets have lamented a friend of their 
 youth, and a companion of their fludies , but 
 no one has furpaffed the affe6ling tendernefs 
 with which Milton fpeaks of his loft Diodati. 
 
 — — Q,uis mihi fidus 
 
 Haerebit lateri comes , ut tii fxpe folebas , 
 Frigonbus duris , & per loca foeta pruinis , 
 Aut rapido fub fole , fiti morientibus heibis ? 
 
 Pedtora cui credam ? Q^uls 'me lenire docebit 
 Mordaces curas , quls longam fallere nodlem 
 Dulcibus alloquiis , grato cum fibilat ijt^ni 
 JVIolle pyrum , & nucibus rtrepitat focus , & malus ; 
 
 Aufter 
 Mifcet cunifta foris , & defuper intonat ulmo ? 
 
 Aut asftate , dies medio dum vertitur axe. 
 Cum Pan afculea fomnum capic abditus umbra, 
 Quis mihi blanditiafque tuas , quis tum mihi rifus , 
 Cecropiofque fales referet , cultofque lepores ? 
 
 Who now my pains and perils fhall divide 
 
 As thou wall: won't, for ever ac my fide. 
 
 Both when the rugged froft annoy'd our feet, 
 
 And when the herbage all was parch'd with heat ? 
 
 In w^honi fhall I confide , whofe counfel find 
 A balmy medicine to my troubled mindt 
 
 Or 
 
 V 
 
The life of milton. 73 
 
 Or whofe difcourfe with innocent delight 
 Shall fill me now, and cheat the wintry night? 
 While hifTes on my hearth the pulpy pear, 
 And black'ning chefnuts ftart and crackle there ; 
 "While liorms abroad, the dreary fcene o'erwhelm, 
 And the wind thunders thro' the riven elm? 
 
 Or M'ho, when fummer funs their fummit reach, 
 and Pan fleeps hidden by the fhelt'ring beech , 
 Who then fhall render me thy Attic vein 
 Of wit, too polifli'd to inflid a pain? 
 
 With the fpirit of a man moft able to feel, and 
 mofi; worthy to enjoy, the delights of true friend- 
 fliip , he defcribes the rarity of that ineftimable 
 bleffing , and the anguifli we fuffer from the un- 
 timely lofs of it. 
 
 Vix fibi quifque parem de millibus invenit unum ; 
 Aut fi fors dederit tandem non afpera votis , 
 Ilium inopina dies, qua non fperaveris hora , 
 Surripit, ceternum linquens in faecula damnum. 
 
 Scarce one in thoufands meets a kindred mind. 
 And if the long-fought good at laft he find , 
 When leaft he fears it, death his treafure fteals, 
 I And gives his heart a wound that nothing heals. 
 
 There is , indeed , but one effectual lenitive 
 , for wounds of this nature, which Milton happily 
 j poffefled in the fmcerity and fervor of his reli- 
 1 gion. He clofes his lamentation for his favorite 
 ' 7 
 
74 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 friend, as he had clofed his Lycidas , with juft 
 and foothing reflections on the purity of life , 
 by which the obje6i of his regret was diftin- 
 guiflied , and with a fubhme conception of that 
 celeftial beatitude, which he confidently regarded 
 as the infalhble and immediate recompence of 
 departed virtue. 
 
 Having paid what was due to friendlliip in , 
 his poetical capacity, he devoted his pen to pub- 
 lic affairs , and entered on that career of con- 
 troverfy, which eflranged him fo lon^, and car- 
 ried him fo far from thofe milder and more en- 
 gaging fludies, that nature and education had 
 made the darlings of /iis mind. If to facrifice 
 favorite purfuits that promifed great 'glory, pur- 
 fuits in which acknowledged genius had qualified 
 an ambitious fpirit to excel ; if to facrifice thefe 
 to irkfome diiputes , from a fenfe of what he 
 owed to the exigencies of his country ; if fuch 
 condu(^ deferve, as it alTuredly does, the name " 
 of public virtue , it may be as difficult, perhaps , 
 to find an equal to Milton in genuine patriotifm | 
 as in poetical power : for who can be faid to 
 have facrificed fo much, or to have lliown a 
 firmer affection to the public good ? If he miflook 
 the mode of promoting it; if his fentiments , both 
 on ecclefiaftical and civil policy, are fuch as the 
 majority of our countrymen think it jufl and 
 wife to reject, let us give him the credit he de- 
 ferves for the merit of his intention ; let us 
 refpe£f , as we ought to do , the probity of an 
 
T H E L 1 F E O 1'" M I L T N. 7 J 
 
 exalted mideiRanding , animated by a fervent, 
 fteady, and laudable defire to enlighten mankind , 
 and to render them m.ore virtuous and happy. 
 
 In the year 1640 , when Milton returned to 
 England , the current of popular opinion ran 
 with great vehemence againft epifcopacy. He 
 was prepared to catch the fpirit of the time , 
 and to become an advocate for ecclefiaftical re- 
 formation , by having peculiar and domeftic 
 grounds of complaint againft religious oppreffion. 
 His favorite preceptor had been reduced to exile, 
 and his father difmherited , by intolerance and 
 fuperftition. He wrote, therefore, with the indig- 
 nant enthufiafm of a man refenting the injuries 
 of thofe, who are moft entitled to his love and 
 veneration. The ardor of his affections confpi- 
 red with the warmth of his fancy to enflame 
 him with that puritanical zeal , which blazes fo in- 
 tenfely in his controverfial productions : no lefs 
 than four of thefe were publilhed within two 
 years after his return; and he thus fpeaks of the 
 motives, that led him to this fpecies of compofi- 
 tion , in his Second Defence. 
 
 " Being * animated by this univerfal outcry 
 againft the bifliops , as I perceived that men 
 
 * Ut primum loqiiendi faltem csepta eft libertas concedi, 
 omnia in epifcopos aperiri ora; alii de ipforum vitiis , alii de 
 
 ipfius ordinis vitio conqueri Ad haec fane experreftus , 
 
 cum veram affeftari viam ad libertatem cernerem , ab his 
 initiis , his paffibus , ad liberandam fervitute vitam omnem 
 morcalium rediflime procedi, fi ab religione difciplina orta , ad 
 
76 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 were taking tlie true road to liberty, and might 
 proceed with tJie u.tmoft reditude from thefe 
 beginnings to dehver liuman Hfe from all bafe 
 fubje^lion , if their difcipline , drawing its fource 
 from religion , proceeded ^to morals and political 
 inflitntions ; as I had been tramed from my 
 youth to the particular knowledge of what be- 
 longed to divine, and what to human jnrifdic- 
 tion; and as I thought I fliould deferve to forfeit 
 the power of being ufeful to mankind, if I now 
 failed to aflift my country and the clmrch , and 
 fo many brethren , who for the fake of the gofpel 
 were expofmg themfelves to peril , I refolved , 
 though my thoughts had been pre-engaged by 
 
 mores & inftitiita reipublicK emanaret , cum etiam me ita ab 
 adolefcentia parallem , lit quid divini, quid human! effet juris, 
 ante omnia poffem non ignorare, meque confuluiiTem ecquando 
 uUius ufus eflem futurus, fi nunc patrix, immo vero ecclefiae 
 totque fatribiis evangelii caufa periculo fefe objicientibus 
 deeflem , ftatui , ctfi tunc alia quxdam meditabar, hue omne 
 ingenium, omnes induftrias vires transfcrre. Primum itaque de 
 reformanda ecclefia Anglicana, duos ad amicum qucndam libros 
 confcripfi ; deinde , cum duo prce caiteris magni noniinis epif- 
 copi fuum jus contra miniftros quofdam primarios affererent, 
 ratus de iis rebus , quas amore folo veritatis, & ex officii 
 chriftiani ratione didiceram , hand pejus mc difturum quam qui 
 de fuo qiiseftu & injuftiffimo dominatu contendcbant , ad hunc 
 libris duobus, quorum unus De Epifcopatu Prslatico , alter 
 De Ratione Difciplince Ecclefiaitica: , infcribitur , "ad ilium 
 fcriptis quibufdam animadverfionibus , (k mox Apologia ref- 
 pondi , & minillris facundiam hominis, ut ferebatur aegre fufti- 
 nentibus , fuppetias tuli , & ab eo tempore , fi quid poftea 
 refponderent , interfui. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. ^^ 
 
 Other defigns , to transfer to this obje6\ all my 
 talents and all my application : firft , therefore , 
 I -wrote of reformation in England two books ad- 
 drefled to a friend; afterwards when two bifliops 
 of eminence had afferted their caufe againft 
 the leading minifters of the oppofite party, as I 
 conceived that I could argue , from a love of 
 truth and a fenfe of chriftian duty , not lefs for- 
 cibly than my antagonift ( who contended for 
 lucre and their o^vn unjuft dominion)! anfwered 
 one of them in two books with the following 
 titles, Of Prelatical Epifcopacy , Of Church Go- 
 vernment; and the other, firfl: in Animadverfions 
 upon the Remonlirants Defence againft Smectym- 
 nuus , and fecondly , in my Apology. As the 
 minifters were thought hardly equal to their 
 opponent in eloquence, I lent them my aid, 
 and h'om tliat time , if tliey made any farther 
 reply, I was a party concerned. 
 
 I have inferred this pafl'age at full length , be- 
 caufe it gives us a clear infiglit into the motives 
 of Milton on his hrft engaging in controverfy, 
 and difcovers tlie high opinion which he enter- 
 tained , both of the chriftian pi^rity and the ar- 
 gumentative powers of his own cultivated mind: 
 the two bifliops to whom he alludes were, Hall 
 biOiop of Norwich, famous as our firft fatirift, 
 and the learned Uflier, primate of Ireland. Hall 
 publiflied , in 1640, " An humble Remonftrance 
 to the High Court of Parliament in Behalf of 
 
 c 
 
 Epifcopacy " — an anfwer to this appeared 
 
78 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 written by fix minillers , under the title of 
 Smedymnuus , a \vord cafually formed from the 
 initial letters of their refpecftive names. This lit- 
 tle band of religious writers included Thomas 
 Young , the beloved preceptor of Milton ; fo 
 that perfonal attachment confpired with public 
 enthufiafm to make our author vehement in his 
 reply to the two bifliops , who failed hot to 
 encounter the confederate antagonifts of their 
 order. He probably recolle6ied the fufferings of 
 his favorite inflru61or , when he exclaimed in his 
 treatife of reformation , " What numbers of 
 faithful and free born Englilhmen and good 
 chriftians have been conftrained to forfake their 
 dearefl home , their friends and kindred , whom 
 nothing but the wide ocean , or the favage de- 
 ferts of America , could hide and flielter from 
 the fury of the bifliops. " j 
 
 HoAvever furious the perfecution mJght be , 
 which excited antipathy and abhorrence in Mil- 
 ton againfl the order of bifliops , it muft be 
 confeffed that he frequently fpeaks with that 
 intem.perance of zeal , which defeats its own 
 purpofe. There are fome pailages in his contro- 
 verfial writings, that muft be read with concern 
 by his moft paffionate admirers ; yet even the 
 gloom and feverity of thefe are compenfated by 
 fuch occafional flallies of ardent fancy, of found 
 argument , and of fublime devotion , as may 
 extort commendation even from readers who 
 love not the author. 
 
 (/; 
 
THE L I I- E O F M I L T O N. 79 
 
 In his firfl: Ecclefiaflical Treatife of Reforma- 
 tion , he makes the following very folemn ap- 
 peal to heaven on his integrity' as a writer ; 
 " And here withal I invoke the immortal deity, 
 " revealer and judge of fecrets , that wherever I 
 " have in this book plainly and roundly, though 
 " worthily and truly , laid open the faults and 
 " blemiflies of fathers , martyrs , or chriftian 
 " emperors , or have otherways inveighed againft 
 " error and fuperftition with A'ehement expj'ef- 
 " fions , I have done it neither out of malice , 
 " nor lift to fpeak evil, nor any vain glory, but 
 " of mere necefTity , to vindicate the fpotlefs 
 " truth from an ignominious bondage. 
 
 ToAvards the clofe of this performance he gives 
 a diftant myfterious hint of his great and unfet- 
 tled poetical defigns , with a very ftriking mJx- 
 ture of moral , political , and religious enthu- 
 fiafm. 
 
 " Then , amidft the hymns and hallelujahs 
 " of faints , fome one may, perhaps, be heard 
 " offering at high ftrains , in new and lofty 
 " meajures , to fing and celebrate thy divine 
 " mercies and marvellous judgments in this land 
 " throughout all ages. 
 
 In his fubfequent work , on the Reafon of 
 Church Governm.ent , he gratifies us with a 
 more enlarged view of his literary projects, not 
 yet moulded into form , but , like the unarran- 
 ged elements of creation , now floating at large 
 in his capacious mind. 
 
8^ THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 I tranfcribe the long paffage alluded to , becaufe 
 it illuftrates the mental characler of Milton , 
 with a mild energy, a folemn fplendor of fen- 
 timent and expreffion peculiar to himfelf. 
 
 '^ Time ferves not now , and , perhaps , I 
 *' might feem too profufe to give any certain 
 *' account of what tlie mind at home, in the 
 '' fpacious circuits of her mufing , hath liberty 
 ** to propofe to herfelf , though of highefl hope 
 *' and hardefl: attempting ; whether that epic 
 *' form, whereof the two poems of Homer, 
 ** and thofe other two of Virgil and TalTo , 
 " are a diflfufe , and the book of Job a brief , 
 *' model ; or \vhether the rules of Ariftotle here- 
 *' in are flrictly to be kept , or nature to be 
 *' followed ; Avhich in them that kno^v art , and 
 " ufe judgment, is no tranfgreffion , but an en- 
 " riching of art: and laftly , what king or knight, 
 *' before the Conqueft , might be chofen , in 
 *' whom^ to lay the pattern of a chriftian hero. 
 " And as Taffo gave to a prince of Italy his 
 '* choice, whether he would command him to 
 *' write of Godfrey's expedition againft the inft- 
 *' dels, Belifarius againfl the Goths, or Charle- 
 *' main againft the Lombards ; if to the inflin^l 
 *' of nature , and the emboldning of art aught 
 *' may be trafled , and that there be nothing 
 " adverfe in our climate, or the fite of this age, 
 " it liaply would be no raflinefs , from an equal 
 *' diligence and inclination , to prefent the like 
 " offer in our antient ftories. Or whether thofe 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 8 1 
 
 '* dramatic conflitutions , wherein Sophocles and 
 " Euripides reign , lliall be found more doctrinal 
 " and exemplary to a nation — Or, if occafion 
 " Jhall lead , to imitate thofe magnific odes and 
 " hymns , wherein Pindarus and Callimachus are 
 " hi moft things worthy. But thole frequent 
 " fongs throughout the law and prophets , beyond 
 " all thefe , not in their divine argument alone , 
 " but in the very critical art of compofition , 
 *' may be eahly made appear over ail the kinds 
 " of lyric poefy to be incomparable, Thefe abi- 
 " lities , wherefoever they be found, are the in- 
 <* fpired gift of God , rarely beftowed , but yet 
 " to fome( though moft abufe) in every nation; 
 " and are of power , befides the office of a 
 " pulpit , to inbreed and cherifli in a great 
 " people the feeds of virtue and public civility, 
 " to allay the perturbations of the mind , and 
 " fet the affeftions in right tune ; to celebrate 
 " in glorious and lofty hymns the throne and 
 " equipage of God's almightinefs , and what lie 
 " works, and what he fuffers to be wrought 
 " with high providence in his church ; to ling 
 " victorious agonies of martyrs and faints, tlie 
 '' deeds and triumphs of jufl and pious nations 
 * doing valiantly through faith againfl: the ene- 
 ' mies of Chrift; to deplore the general relapfes 
 *' of kingdoms and Hates from jultice and God's 
 " true worPiiip. Laftly, whatfoever in religion is 
 ' holy and fublime , in virtue amiable or grave , 
 " whatfoever hath paffion or admiration in all 
 
82 THELIFEOF MILTON. 
 
 " the changes of that, which is called fortune 
 " from vvichont , or the wily fubtleties and re- 
 " fluxes of man's thoughts from within ; all 
 " thefe things , with a folid and treatable fmooth- 
 " nefs to paint out and defcribe , teaching 
 " over the whole book of fandity and virtue , 
 " through all the inftances of example , with 
 " fuch delight, to thofe efpecially of foft and 
 " dehcious temper, who will not fo much as 
 " look upon truth herfelf, unlefs they fee her 
 " elegantly dreft ; that whereas the paths of 
 " honefty and good life appear now rugged 
 " and difficult , though they be indeed eafy 
 " and plcafant , they will then appear to all 
 " men Ijoth eafy and pleafant , though they 
 " were rugged and difficult indeed. " 
 
 " The thing which I had to lay, and thofe 
 *' intentions, which have lived within me ever 
 *' lince I could conceive myfelf any thing worth 
 " to my country , I return to crave excufe that 
 " urgent rcafon hath pluckt from me by an 
 " abortive and fore -dated difcovery; and the 
 " accomplifliment of them lies not but in a 
 " power above man's to promife; but that none 
 " hath by more fludious ways endeavoured , and 
 " -with more unwearied fpirit that none fliall , 
 " that I dare almoft aver of myfelf, as far as 
 " life and free leifure will extend. Neither do 
 *' I think it fliame to covenant with any knowing 
 " reader tliat for feme few years yet I may go 
 *' on trufl with him toward the payment of what 
 
THE LIFE O F M I L T O N. S3 
 
 *' I am now indebted , as being a work not to 
 " be raifed from the heat of youth, or the va- 
 " pours of wine, Hke that which flows at waftc. 
 " from the pen of fome vulgar amourifi: , or the 
 " trencher fury of a rhyming parahte; nor to be 
 *' obtained by the invocation of dame Memory 
 '• and her hren daughters; but by devout prayer 
 " to that eternal fpirit , who can enrich with all 
 " utterance and knowledge , and fends out his 
 ''' Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to 
 " touch and purify the lips of whom he pleafes ; 
 " to this mult be added indufirious and fele^i 
 " reading , fteady obfervation , infight into all 
 " feemly and generous arts and affairs; till which 
 " in fome meafure be compaffed at mine own 
 " peril and cofl 1 refufe not to fuftain this ex- 
 " peculation from as many as are not loth to 
 " hazard fo much credulity upon the befl; pledges 
 " that I can give them. Although it nothing 
 *' content me to have difclofed thus much before 
 *' hand; but that I truft hereby to make it ma- 
 " nifeft with what fmall willingnefs I endure to 
 *' interrupt the purfuit of no lefs hopes than thefe, 
 *' and leave a calm and pleafmg folitarinefs, fed 
 " with chearful and confident thoughts, to em- 
 *' bark in a troubled fea of noife and hoarfe dif- 
 *' putes , put from beholding the bright coun- 
 *' tenance of truth , in the quiet and ftill air of 
 " delightful ftudies." 
 
 Mr. Warton , who has cited the laft fen ten ce 
 of this very interefling paffage, as a proof that 
 
84 T H E L I F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 IVlilton , then engaged in controverfy, fighed for 
 his more cong-euial purfuits . laments, " that the 
 " vigorous portion of his life , that thofe years 
 " in whicli imagination is on the ^ving, were 
 *' unworthily and unprofitahly wafted on tem- 
 " porary topics. " Many lovers of poetry \vill 
 fyrapathize with this amiable 'Nvriter in his regret; 
 bnt others may ftill entertain very different fen- 
 fations on the fubje61. Allowing for a moment 
 that the controverfial writings of Milton deferve 
 
 o 
 
 to be negle6ied and forgotten , reafons may yet 
 be found to rejoire, rather than lament, that he 
 exerted his faculties in compofnig them. Tlie 
 occupation , however it miQ;ht fnfpend his poeti- 
 cal enterprifes , clieriflied the ardor and energy 
 of his mind, a!id above all, confirmed in him 
 tliat well founded and upright fclf-efteem , to 
 which we are principally indebted for his fub- 
 limeft produ^lion. The works I allude to were, 
 in his own eftimation, indifpenfible and merito- 
 rious ; had he not written tliem , as he frankly 
 informs us, "• he would have heard within him- 
 " felf, all his life after , of difcourage and re- 
 " proach. " Nothing;, perliaps , but this retro- 
 fpe^ on a life pafTed , as his own confcience af- 
 fured him , in the faithful difcharge of arduous 
 and irkfome duties, could have afforded to the 
 declining days of Milton that confident vigor of 
 mind, that intenfe and inextinguiiliable fire of 
 imagination, which gave exiftence and perfection 
 to his Paradife Loft. 
 
l' H E LIFE OP MILTON. 85 
 
 He appears to have thought with a celebrated 
 ancient, tliat perfecl morahty is neceflary to the 
 perffciion of genius; and that fu b/iiniity in com_ 
 pofition may be expecled only from the man , 
 ■who has attained the fublime in the fteady prac- 
 tice of virtue. 
 
 Thefe noble and animating ideas feem to have 
 had great influence on his condu6i t'ery early in 
 life ; for in fpeaking of the fludies and fentiments 
 of liii youth, he fays, 
 
 " I wasconhrmed in this opinion, that he who 
 " would not be fruflrate of his hope to \vrite 
 " Avell hereafter in laudable things , ought himfelf 
 " to be a true poem; that is , a compofition 
 " and pattern of the lionourableft things; notpre- 
 " fuming to ling high praifes of heroic men, or 
 " fimous cities, unlefs he have in himfelf the ex- 
 " perience and the pra61ice of all tliat which is 
 " praife worthy. " 
 
 In reply to the abfurd charge of his leading 
 a diffolute life, he gives an engaging and fpirited 
 account of his domeftic conduct. '" Thole morn- 
 " ing haunts are where they Ihould be, at home; 
 " not fleeping or concocting the furfeits of an ir- 
 " regular feaft, but up and ftirring; in winter 
 " often ere the found of any bell awake men to 
 *' labor or to devotion; infummer, as oft with 
 " the bird that firft roufes , or not much tar- 
 " dier , to read good authors, or caufe them to 
 " be read, till the attention be \veary ; or me- 
 " mory have its full fraught ; then with ufeful 
 
So THE LIFE OF I\I I L T O N. 
 
 " and generous labours , preferving tlie body's 
 " health and hardiiiefs , to render lightfome , 
 " clear, and not lumpifli obedience to the mind." 
 
 Had the profe works of Milton no merit but 
 that of occafionally affording us little il^etrhes 
 of his fentiments, his manners, and occupations, 
 they would on this account be highly valuable 
 to every rea'der , whom a padionate admiration 
 of the poet has induced to wifh for all poflible 
 acquaintance with the man. To gratify fuch 
 readers , I feletl very copioufly from his various 
 xvorks thofe paffagcs that difplay , in the flrongeft 
 point of view , his moral and domeftic character. 
 It is my firm belief, that as this is more known, 
 it will become more and more an objedl of af- 
 fection and applaufe ; yet I am far from fur- 
 veying it with that bhnd idolatry, which fees 
 no defed, or with that indifcreet partiality , which 
 labors to hide the failina it difcovers ; a bio- 
 grapher muft have ill underftood the nature of 
 Milton , who could fuppofe it pofTible to gratify 
 his fpirit by homage fo unworthy; for my own 
 part, I am perfuaded his attachment to truth 
 was as fincere and fervent as that of the honeft 
 Montaigne, who fays, " I would come again 
 " with all my heart from the other world to give 
 *' any one tiie lie, who lliould report me other 
 "■ than I was , though he did it to honor me." 
 
 I fliall not therefore attempt to deny or to 
 excufe the fatiguino; heavinefs or the coarfe af- 
 jDcrity of his ecclefiaftical difputes. The fmcereft 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 87 
 
 friends of Milton may here agree with Johnfon, 
 who fpeaks of his controverfial merriment as 
 difgufling J but when the critic adds , fuch is his 
 malignity, that "Hell grows darker at liis frown," 
 they muft abhor tliis bafe mifapplication , I had 
 aim oft faid , this profanation , of Miltonic verfe. 
 
 In a controverfial treatife that gave rife to fuch 
 an imputation , we fliould expecl to find the 
 polemic favagely thirfting for the blood of his 
 adverfaries : it is juft the reverfe. Milton's anta- 
 gonift had , indeed , fuggefted to the public , 
 with infernal malignity , that he was a mifcreant, 
 *' \vho ought , in the name of Chrift , to be 
 *' ftoned to death. " This antagonift , as Milton 
 fuppofed , was a fon of bifliop Hall , " and fcrup- 
 led not to write thus outrageoufly againfl one, 
 who ( to ufe the milder words of our author ) 
 '• in all his writing fpake not that any man's 
 " fkin Oiould be rafed. " 
 
 " The ftyle of his piece, " fays Johnfon, in 
 *' fpeaking of this apology , " is rough , and fuch, 
 *' perhaps , is that of his antagonift. " The differ- 
 ent degrees of roughnefs that the two writers 
 difplayed give a fmgular effect to this obfervation 
 of the critic , who confounds the coarfe and 
 intemperate vehemence of the one with the out- 
 rageous barbarity of the other. Milton fome- 
 times wrote with the unguarded and ungraceful 
 afperity of a man in wrath , but let equity add, 
 that when he did fo , he was exafperated by 
 
8S THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 foes , who exerted againft him all the perrecu- 
 ting ferocity of a fiend. 
 
 The incidents of his life were calculated to 
 put his temper and his fortitude to the moil 
 arduous trials . and in the fevereft of thefe he 
 will be found conllant and exem.pl ary in the 
 exercife of gentle and beneficent virtue. From 
 the thorns of controverfy he was plunged into 
 the flill fharper thorns of coimubial dillenhon. 
 During the VVhitfuntide of the year 1643, at 
 the age of thirty -five, he married Mary, the 
 daughter of Richard Powell , a gentleman who 
 refided at Foreft Hill, near Shotover , in Ox- 
 ford fliire. This ill-ftarr'd union miaht arife from 
 an infantine acquaintance, as the grandfather of 
 Milton had probably lived very near the feat 
 of the Powells. What led to the connexion 
 we can only conjecture , but we know it ^vas 
 unhappy, as the lady, after living only a few 
 weeks with her hulband in London , deferted 
 him , under the decent pretence of paffmg the 
 fummer months on a vifit to her father, with 
 whom the indulgent poet gave her permiflion 
 to remain till Michaelmas : during the interval 
 he ^vas eniracred in kind attention to his father, 
 whom he now eftablifhed under his own roof. 
 The old man had been fettled at Reading, with 
 his younger fon Chriftopher , a lawyer and a 
 royalift , but thought it expedient to quit that 
 place on its being taken by Eflex, the parlia- 
 mentary general , and found a comfortable 
 
 afylum 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 09 
 
 afyliim for the refidue of his long hfe in the fihal 
 piety and tender protection of the poet. 
 
 At the time appointed. Milton folicited the 
 return of his uife; fhe did not condefcend even 
 to anfwer his letter : he repeated his requeft by 
 a mellenger , who , to the beft of my remem- 
 brance ( fays Philips ) reported , that he was 
 difmiffed with fome fort of contempt. This 
 proceeding , in all probability ( continues the 
 biographer , whofe fituation made him the beft 
 judge of occurrences fo extraorduiary ) was 
 grounded " upon no other caufe but this , 
 " namely , that the family , being generally ad- 
 " dided to the cavalier party , as they called it , 
 *' and fome of them pofhbly engaged in the 
 " king's fervice , who by this time had his head- 
 *' quarters at Oxford , was in fome profpe6l of 
 " fuccefs , they began to repent them of having 
 " matched the eldefl: daughter of the family to 
 " a perfon fo contrary to them in opinion , and 
 " thought it would be a blot in their efcutcheon 
 " whenever that Court caaie to flourilh again; 
 " however , it fo incenfed our author , that he 
 " thought it would be diflionorable ever to re- 
 " ceive her again after fuch a repulfe. 
 
 Milton had too tender and too elevated a 
 ' fpirit not to feel this affront with double poig- 
 nancy , as it affeCled both his happinefs and his 
 dignity ; but it was one of his noble chara6terif- 
 tics to find his mental powers rather invigorated 
 than enfeebled by injury and affli6iion : he 
 
 S 
 
90 THL LilLOF MILTON. 
 
 thought it the prerogative of wifdom to find 
 remedies againfl every evil , however unexpected, 
 by which vice or infirmity can enkbitter life. 
 In refle£ling on his immediate domeftic trouble, 
 he conceived the generous defign of making it 
 fubfervient to the public good. He found that 
 in difcordant marriage there is mifery , for which 
 he thought there exiftcd a very eafy remedy , 
 and perfectly confident both with reafon and 
 religion : with thefe ideas he publilhed , in 1644, 
 the Do6irine and Difripline of Divorce. He ad- 
 drefles the work to the Parliament, with great 
 fpirit and eloquence , and after aflerting the pu- 
 rity of his precepts , and the beneficence of his 
 defign , he fays , with patriotic exultation , " let 
 *' not England forget her precedence of teaching 
 *' nations how to live. " 
 
 Sanguine as Milton was in the hope of pro- 
 moting the virtue and liappinefs of private life 
 by this publication , the Prefbyterian clergy , 
 notwithftanding their pall obligations to the au- 
 thor, endeavoured to perfecute him for the no- 
 velty and freedom of his fentimcnts. " The af- 
 fembly of divines fitting at Weftminfter , impa- 
 " tient," fays Antony Wood, " of having the 
 " clergy's jurifdidion, as they reckoned it, in- 
 *' vaded, did, inflead of anfvvering or difproving 
 *' what thofe books had afferted , caufe him to 
 *' be fummoned before the^ioufe of Lords ; but 
 " that Jioufe, whether approving the doctrine,, 
 " or not favouring his accufers , did foon difmifs 
 " him." 
 
THE LIFE OF M I L T O N. \jl 
 
 Milton , whom no oppofition could intimidate 
 when he believed himfelf engaged in the caufe of 
 
 O O 
 
 truth and juflice, endeavoured to fupport his 
 doclrine by fubfequent publications; firft, " The 
 " Judgment of Martin Bucer concerning Di- 
 *' vorce;" this alfo he addreffes to the Parlia- 
 ment, and fays, with his ufual fpirit, " God, it 
 " feems, intended to prove me , whether I durft 
 " alone take up a rightful caufe againfl a world 
 " of difefteem , and found I durft. My name I 
 *' did not publifli, as not willing it fliould fway 
 " the reader either for me or againft me; but 
 " when 1 was told that the ftile (which what 
 " it ails to be fo foon diftinguifhable I cannot 
 " tell ) was known by moft men , and that 
 " fome of the clergy began to inveigh and ex- 
 " claim on what I was credibly informed they 
 " had not read , I took it then for my proper 
 " feafon , both to fliow them a name that could 
 " eafily contemn fuch an indifcreet kind of cen- 
 " fure, and to reinforce the queftion with a 
 *' more accurate diligence ; that if any of them 
 " would be fo sood as to leave railins; , and to 
 " let us hear fo much of his learning and chrif- 
 " tian wifdom , as will be ftri6ily demanded of 
 " him in his anfwering to this problem , care 
 " was had he Ihould not fpend his preparations 
 " againft a namelefs pamphlet." 
 
 Thefe expreflions difplay the franknefs and 
 fortitude of a noble mind , perfectly confcious of 
 its own integrity , in difcufting a very delicate 
 
92 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 point 5 that materially afFe^is the comfort of 
 human life. This integrity he liad indeed pro- 
 tefted very folemnly in his former Addrefs to the 
 Parliament, where, after aflerting that the fub- 
 je6l concerned them chiefly as redreffers of griev- 
 ances , he proceeds thus, " Me it concerns next, 
 " having, with mucli labour and faithful dili- 
 *' gence , firft found out , or at leafl with a 
 " fearlefs communicative candour hrfl publiflied, 
 " to the manifefl good of chriflendom , that 
 " which , calling to witnefs every thing mortal 
 " and immortal , I believe unfeignedly to be 
 " true. " The folemnity of this proteflation , 
 confirmed as it was by the fmgular regularity of 
 his morals , and the fnicerity of his zeal as a 
 chriflian , could not fecure him from cenfures 
 of every kind , which , vehement as they were , 
 he feems to have defpifed. His ideas were de- 
 rided by hbertines , and calumniated by hypo- 
 crites and bigots ; but, fuperior to ridicule and 
 to flander , he proceeded refolutely in what he 
 thought his duty , by Ihowing how completely 
 his do(^rine was confonant, in his own opinion, 
 to that gofpel , which he had feduloufly made 
 not only the favorite ftudy , but the conftant 
 guide of his life. With this view he pubhflied 
 in 1645, his Tetrachordon , expofitions upon the 
 four chief places of fcripture , which fpeak of 
 marriage. He introduces this work by a third 
 Addrefs to the Parliament , and , fpeaking of 
 their juftice and candor in difdaining to think 
 
 jmI 
 
T H E L I F E O F M I L T O N. gl 
 
 of petfecuting him for his doctrine, accordinir 
 to the inftigation of his enemies , he exprefles 
 his gratitude in the following animated terms : 
 " For which uprightnefs and incorrupt refufal 
 *' of ^v]lat ye were incenfed to , lords and com- 
 *' mons ( though it were done to juftice , not 
 *' to me , and was a peculiar demonftration how 
 *' far your ways are different from the rafli 
 *• vulgar ) befides thofe allegiances of oath and 
 ^' duty , which are my public debt to your 
 *' public labours , I have yet a flore of gratitude 
 *• laid up , which cannot be exhaufted , and 
 *' fuch thanks, perhaps, they may live to be, as 
 " fliall more than whifper to the next ages. 
 This fentence is remarkable in various points of 
 vie^v , but chiefly as it fhows us that the peculiar 
 eagernefs and energy with which Milton , at a 
 future period , defended the parliament , origin- 
 ated not only in his pafTionate attachment to 
 freedom , but in his ardent fenfe of perfonal 
 gratitude to the legiflature of his country. He 
 v/as however; too magnanimous to wifh for Hiel- 
 ter under any authority, without vindicating his 
 innocence and the merit of his caufe ; he there- 
 fore fay= to the parliament , in fpeaking of an 
 antagonift who , in their prefence , had traduced 
 him from the pulpit, " I fliall take licence by 
 " the right of nature, and that liberty wherein 
 *' r was born , to defend myfelf publicly againft 
 '* a printed calumny , and do willingly appeal 
 •' to thofe judges to whom I am accufed. 
 
94 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 The preacher had reprefented the do(flrme of 
 divorce as a Avicked book , for allowing other 
 canfes of divorce than Chrift and his Apoflles 
 mentioned , and the parliament as fmners for 
 not punifhing its authors. 
 
 This induces Milton to exclaim with devotion- 
 al [fpirit, which feems predominant in his mind 
 upon every occafion , " Firft , lords and com- 
 " mons 5 I pray to that God , before whom ye ,, 
 *' then were proftrate , fo to forgive ye thofe | 
 *' omifTions and trefpalfes , which ye defire moft 
 *' fliould find forgivenefs , as I fhall foon fliow 
 *' to the world how eafily ye abfolve yourfelves 
 *' of that, which this man calls your fm , and 
 *' is indeed your wifdom and noblenefs , where- 
 ** of to this day ye have done well not to 
 " repent. 
 
 The fcope of Milton, in his doctrine of divorce, 
 is thus explained by himfelf ; " This Ihall be 
 *' the tafk. and period of this difcourfe to prove, 
 ** firfl , that other reafons of divorce befides 
 *' adultery were by the law of Mofes , and are 
 *' yet to be allowed by the Chriflian magiftrate, 
 " as a piece of juftice, and that the words of 
 ** Chrift are not hereby contraried ; next that , 
 *' to prohibit abfolutely any divorce whatfoe- 
 " ver , except thofe which Mofes excepted , is 
 " againft the reafon of law. 
 
 This doctrine he firft delivered as the refult 
 of his own diligent ftudy of the fcripture. He 
 afterwards found and declared it confonant to J 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 95 
 
 what many eminent divines of the reformed 
 church, particularly Martin Bucer and Erafmus, 
 had maintained; laftly , to grace his opinions 
 whh the highefl: human fupport , he alferts , 
 " they were fanflioned by the whole affembled 
 " authority of England, both church and ftate, 
 *' and in thofe times which are on record for 
 *' the pureft and hncereft that ever flione yet 
 " on the Reformation of his land , the time of 
 " Edward the Sixth. That worthy prince , 
 *' having utterly aboliflied the canon law out of 
 " his dominions , as his father did before him, 
 *' appointed by full vote of parliament a com- 
 " mittee of two and-thirly chofen men , divines 
 " and lawyers , of whom Cranmer the arch- 
 " billiop , Peter Martyr , and Walter Haddon , 
 *' not without the alliftance of Sir John Cheek, 
 " the king's tutor, a man at that time accounted 
 " the learnedeft of Engliflimen , and for piety 
 ** not inferior , were the chief to frame anew 
 *' fome ecclefiaftical laws , that might be inflead 
 *' of wliat was abrogated. The work with great 
 *' diligence was finilhed , and with as great ap- 
 " probation of that reforming age was received, 
 " and had been doubtlefs, as the learned preface 
 " thereof teftifies , eftabliHied by aft of parlia- 
 " ment , had not the good king's death fo foon 
 *' enfuing arrefted the farther growth of religion 
 " alfo from that feafon to this. Thofe laws , 
 " thus founded on the m(^morable wifdom and 
 " piety of that religious parhament and fynod, 
 
96 THJiLIFEOFMILTON. 
 
 *' allow divorce and fecond marriage not only 
 " for adultery and defertion , but for any capital 
 *' enmity or plot laid againfl the other's life , 
 *' and likewife for evil and fierce ufage. Nay , 
 *' the twelfth chapter of that title, by plain 
 ** confequence declares , that leffer contentions, 
 *' if they be perpetual , may obtain divorce , 
 *' which is all one really with the pofition by 
 " me held in the former treatife publillied on 
 " this argument , herein only differing , that 
 *' there the caufe of perpetual flrife was put , 
 '* for example , in the unchangeable difcord of 
 *' fome natures ; but in thefe laws , intended us 
 " by the beft of our anceftors , the effe^l of 
 *' continual flrife is determined no unjuft plea 
 *' of divorce , whether the caufe be natural or 
 " wilful. " 
 
 The author exults fo much in this authority , 
 that he concludes with the following expreffions 
 of confidence and triumph : 
 
 " Henceforth let them , who condemn the 
 ** affertion of this book for new and licentious , 
 be forry , left , while they think to be of the 
 graver fort, and take on them to be teachers, 
 they expofe themfelves rather to be pledged 
 up and down by men who intimately know 
 them , to the difcovery and contempt of their 
 ** ignorance and prefumption. 
 
 I have dwelt the longer on this fubje£i, be- 
 caufe it occupied fo deeply the mind and heart 
 of Milton. In thefe treatifes the energy of his 
 
 a 
 ti 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 97 
 
 language is very ftriking ; it forcibly proves ho\v 
 keenly he felt the anguifh of connubial infelicity, 
 and ho'v ardently he labored to remove from 
 himfelf and others that '' fecret affliclion " ( to 
 ufe one of liis own expreffive phrafes ) " of an 
 " unconfcionable fize to human firength. 
 
 He argues, indeed, for what the majority of 
 modern legiflators and divines have thought in- 
 confiitent \vith found morality and true reli- 
 gion ; butthey wlio deem his arguments in conclu- 
 five , may yet admire the powers and the pro- 
 bity of the advocate. His view of the queltion 
 is as extenfive and liberal as his intention was 
 pure and benevolent : if a few words of our Sa- 
 viour , in their literal fenfe , are againfl him , 
 the i'pirit of the gofpel may be thought , by 
 Imcere Chriflians , to allo\v him all the latitude 
 for Avhich he contends; the mofl rigid opponent 
 of his doclrine may be frequently charmed with 
 his rich vein of fervid eloquence and chriflian 
 philanthropy. 
 
 His three publications on divorce were fol- 
 lo^ved by Colafterion , a reply to a namelefs an- 
 fwer againfl his doctrine. This work is an angry 
 inve^live, in which he endeavours, but not 
 happily, to overwhelm his antagonift . with ri- 
 dicule. 
 
 In the account which he gives of his owu 
 compofitions , in his Second Defence , he fpeaivs 
 of this treatife on divorce , as forming a p:irr 
 of his progrefhve labor to vindicate liberty in 
 
gS THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 various points of view ; he confidered it in three 
 different Ihapes , eccleliaftical , domeftic , and 
 civil ; he thought it of high moment to eftabUlh 
 a more enlarged fyftem of domeftic liberty , at 
 a time when connubial difcord was fo common, 
 in confequence of civil diffenfion ; when , to ufe 
 his own forcible exprefhon , alluding probably 
 to his particular fituation , " the wife might be 
 " found in the camp of the enemy , threatening 
 " ruin and flaughter to her hufband. " He feems 
 to exult in faying , that his do61rine of divorce 
 was more abundantly demonftrated , about two 
 years after his publication , by the illuftrious 
 Selden , in his Uxor Hebraea '". 
 
 * Cum itaqiie tres omnino animadverterem libertatis effe fpe- 
 cies, qux nifi adfiiit , vita uUa tranfiiji commode vix poflit, ec- 
 clefiafticam , domefticam, feu privacam , atque civilem, deque 
 prima jam fcripfiflTem , deque tertia magiftratum fedulo agere vi- 
 derem , qux reliqua fecunda erat, domeilicam mihi defumpfi; 
 ea quoque tripartita, cum videretur efTe, fi res conjugalis , fi. 
 liberorum inftitutio refte fe haberet, fi denique libcre philofo- 
 phandi potcfias effet , de ' conjngio non folum rite contraheiido , 
 verum etiam , fi neceffe eflTet, dilTolvendo, quid fcntirem ex- 
 plicui ; idque ex divina lege, quam Chriftus non fuftulit, ne- 
 dum aliam , tota lege Mofaica graviorera civiliter fanxit; quid 
 item de excepta folum fornicatione fentiendum fit, & meatii 
 aliorumque fententiam exprompfi , & clnriffimus vir SeKienus 
 noitcr, in Uxore Hebrsa plus minus hiennio poft edita, uberius 
 demonftravit. Fruftra enim libertatem in comitiis & foro cre- 
 pat , qui domi fervitutem viro indigniffimam , inferiori etiam 
 fervit ; ea igitur de re aliquot libros edidi; eo prxfertim tem- 
 pore cum vir foepc & conjux hoftes inter fe acerrimi, hie domi 
 
THELIFEOF MILTON. 99 
 
 Thofe who love not Milton affeft to fpeak 
 fcornfiilly of his writings on this fubjefi: , and 
 intimate , that they were received at firft with 
 univerfal contempt; but this was far from being 
 the cafe ; they were applauded by many , on 
 whofe judgment the author fet the highefl value, 
 though they were made a fource of indecent 
 mirth by the vulgar ; and we may reafonably 
 conclude , it was this circumflance that induced 
 him to wiili he had written them in Latin. To 
 the low ribaldry , with which they were attack- 
 ed , he alludes in the fonnet , celebrated for 
 the following admirable lines on the hypocritical 
 or intemperate affertors of liberty, • 
 
 That bawl for freedom in their fenfelefs mood , 
 And fti!l revolt when truth would fet them free ; 
 Licence they mean, when they cry liberty, 
 
 For who loves that, muft firft be wife and good. 
 
 This noble fentiment he has inculcated more 
 than once in profe ; and as his life was in har- 
 mony with his precept, it might have taught 
 his enemies to avoid the grofs abfurdity of re- 
 prefenting him as the lover of anarchy and confu- 
 fion. Never was a mind better conllituted , than 
 Milton's , to fet a juft value on the prime blef- 
 fmgs of peace and order; if he ran into political 
 
 cum liberis , ilia in caftris hoftium materfamilias verfaretiir, 
 viro cstiem atqiie perniciem minitans. — ! Profe Works, vol. a. 
 p. 385. folio Edit. London, 1738. vol. 2. p. 333, 
 
lOO THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 errors , they arofe not from any fondnefs for fce- 
 nes of turbulence, but rather from his generous 
 credulity refpe6\ing the virtue of mankind ; from 
 believing tliat many hypocrites , who afFe61ed a 
 vvifli to.eflabUfli peace and order in his country, 
 on what he efteemed the furefl foundation, were 
 as fincere and difniterefled as himfelf. 
 
 *' From this time (fays Johnfon) it is obfer- 
 *' ved , that he became an enemy to the Prefby- 
 *' terians, whom he had favored before. He 
 '' that changes liis party by his humor is not 
 " much more virtuous than he that changes it 
 *' by his intereft ; he loves himfelf rather than 
 " truth." Notwithftanding the air of moraHty 
 in this remark, it may be queftioned, if ever an 
 obfervation was made on any great chara61er 
 more invidio= or more unjufl. When the 
 Prefbyterians were favored by Milton , they 
 fj)ake the language of the oppreffed ; on their 
 being invelled vvith power, they forgot their own 
 pleas for liberty of confcience , and became , in 
 their turn, perfecutors; it vvas the confiftency of 
 virtue, therefore, in Milton, that made him at 
 one time their advocate, and at another their 
 opponent : fo far from loving himfelf better thnn 
 truth , he was perhaps of all mortals the leaft 
 felfilh. — He contended for religion without 
 feeking emoluments from the church ; he con- 
 tended for the fiate without aiming at any civil 
 or military employment : truth andjuftice were 
 the idols of his heart and the ftudy of his lifej 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 101 
 
 if he fometimes failed of attaining them , it was 
 not becaiife he loved any thing better ; it was 
 becaufe he overlLot tlie obje^ of fincere affec- 
 tion from the fondnefs and ardor of his purfuit. 
 
 His wife ftill perfiiled in her defertion , but 
 he amufed his mind under the mortification her 
 conduif had occafioned by frequent vifits to the 
 Lady Margaret Ley , whofe manners and conver- 
 fation were peculiarly engaging. Her father , the 
 Earl of Marlborough , had held the higheft offices 
 in a former reign , and of his virtues Ihe ufed 
 to fpeak with fuch hlial eloquence as infpired 
 Milton with a fonnet in her praife. 
 
 He continued alfo to manifeft his firm affec- 
 tion to the public good , by two compofitions 
 intended to promote itj the little tradfate on 
 education , addreffed to Mr. Hartlib , who had 
 requefted his thoughts upon that interefting fub- 
 je(^, and his Areopagitica , a fpeech for the li- 
 berty of unlicenfed printing. The latter has 
 been re -printed , with a fpirited preface by 
 Thomfon , a poet whom a pafTiou for freedom , 
 united to genius, had highly qualified as an edi- 
 tor and eulogift of Milton. 
 
 Had the author of the Paradife Loft left us 
 no compofition but his Areopagitica , he would 
 be flill entitled to the affe^lionate veneration of 
 every Englifliman , ^vho exults in that intellectual 
 light, which is the noblefl charac^eriflic of his 
 country, and for which England is chiefly in- 
 debted to the liberty of the prefs. Our conflant 
 
lOQ T H E L T F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 advocate for freedom , in every department 
 of life, vindicated this moft important privilege 
 with a mind fully fenlible of its value; he ponred 
 all his heart into this vindication, and, to fpeak 
 of his work in his own energetic language , we 
 may juftly call it, what he has defined a good 
 book to be, " the precious life-blood of a mafter 
 *' fpirit , embalmed and treafured up on purpofe 
 " to a life beyond life. " 
 
 His late biographer , inflead of praihng Mil- 
 ton for a fervice fo honorably rendered to li- 
 terature, feems rather defirous of annihilating its 
 merit, by directing his farcaftic animofity againft 
 the liberty of the prefs. "It feems not more 
 *' reafonable, fays Johnfon , " to leave the right 
 " of printing unreftrained, becaufe writers may 
 " be afterwards cenfured , than it would be to 
 " fleep with doors unbolted , becaufe by our 
 " laws we can hang a thief. " 
 
 This is fervile fophiftry ; the author's illuflra- 
 tion of a thief may be turned againft himfelf To 
 fuffer no book to be publiflied without a licencej 
 is tyranny as abfurd as it would be to fufFer no 
 traveller to pafs along the highway ^vithout pro- 
 ducing a certificate that he is not a robber. 
 
 Even bad books may have their ufe, as Milton 
 obferves ; audi mention this obfervation , chiefly 
 to fhow how liberally he introduces a jufl com- 
 pliment to a great author of his own time in 
 fupport of this idea. " What better witnefs , " 
 fays the advocate for unlicenfed printing, " can 
 
 I 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. lo3 
 
 '* ye expe(^ I fl'Oiild produce, than one of yonr 
 " o^vii , now lifting in parliament, the chief of 
 " learned men reputed in this land , Mr. Selden , 
 *' whofe volume of natural and national laws 
 " proves, not only by great authorities brought 
 " together, but by exquifite reafons and theorems 
 " almoft mathematically demonftrative , that all 
 " opinions, yea errors, known, read, and col- 
 " lated, are of main fervice and affiflance to- 
 " wards the fpeedy attainment of what is trueft. " 
 This eulogy alone appears fufficient to refute a 
 remark unfriendly to Milton , that he was frugal 
 of his praife ; fuch frugality will hardly be found 
 united to a benevolent heart and a glowing 
 imagination. 
 
 In 1645, his early poems, both Englifli and 
 Latin , were firft publilhed in a little volume by 
 Humphry Mofely, who informs the reader in 
 his advertifement . that he had obtained them by 
 folicitation from the author, regarding him as a 
 fuccefsful rival of Spencer. 
 
 Milton had now paffed more than three years 
 in that fmgular flate of mortification, which the 
 difobedience of his wife occafioned. His time 
 had been occupied by the inceffant exercife of his 
 mental powers j but he probably felt \vith pecu- 
 liar poignancy 
 
 " A craving void left aching in the breaft. " 
 
 As he entertained ferious thoughts of enforcing, 
 by his own example , his doctrine of divorce , 
 
]04. T H £ L I F £ OF M 1 L T O N. 
 
 and of marrying another wife who might he 
 worthy of the title, he paid his addreffes to tlie 
 daughter of Do6lor Davies : the father feems to 
 have been a convert to Milton's arguments : but 
 the lady had fcruples. She polfefied , according 
 to PhiUps, both wit and beauty. A novelift could 
 liirdly imagine circumfiances more hngnlarly 
 dittreffing to fenfibility, than the fituation of the 
 poet, if, as we may reafonably conjeclure, he 
 was deeply enamoured of this lady; if her father 
 ^vas inclined to accept him as a fon-in-law ; and 
 if the objecl of his love had no inclination to 
 reje6^ his fnit, but what arofe from a dread of 
 his being indiilolubly united to another. 
 
 Perliaps Milton alludes to what he felt on this 
 occahon in thofe affecling lines of Paradife Loft, 
 where Adam , prophetically enumerating the 
 miferies to arife from Avoman , fays , in clofmg 
 the melancholy lift , that man fometimes 
 
 " His happieft choice too late 
 "" Shall meet , already link'd and wedlock-bound 
 " To a tell adverfary , his hate or Ihame !* 
 " Which infinite calamity fhall caufe 
 " To human life, and houfehold peace confound," 
 
 However ftrong the fcruples of his new favorite 
 might have been , it feems not improbable that 
 he would have triumphed over them , had not 
 an occurrence , which has the air of an incident 
 in romance , given another turn to the emotions 
 
 of 
 
 i 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 105 
 
 of his heart. While he was converfing with a re- 
 lation , whom he frequently vifited in St. Mar- 
 tin's-lane , the door of an adjoining apartment 
 was fuddenly opened : he beheld his repentant 
 wife kneeling at his feet, and imploring his for- 
 givenefs. After the natural ftruggles of honeft 
 pride and juft refentment, he forgave and re- 
 ceived her , " partly from the interceffion of 
 " their common friends , and partly, "fays his 
 nephew, "from his own generous nature , more 
 " inclinable to reconcihation , than to perfeve- 
 " ranee in anger and revenge. 
 
 Fenton juftly remarks , that the ftrong im- 
 preflion which this interview muft have made 
 on Milton , " contributed much to the painting 
 *' of that pathetic fcene in Paradife Loft , in 
 " which Eve addrefles herfelf to Adam for pardon 
 " and peace ; " the verfes , charming as they are, 
 acquire new charms , when we confider them 
 as defcriptive of the poet himfelf and the peni- 
 tent deftroyer of his domeftic comfort. 
 
 " Her lowly plight 
 Immoveable , till peace obtain'd from fault 
 Acknowlcdg'd and deplor'd , in Adam wrought 
 Commiferation ; foon his heart relented 
 Towards her , his life fo late and fole delight , 
 Now at his feet fubmiffive in diftrefs ! 
 Creature fo fair his reconcilement feeking, 
 His counfel whom fhe had difpleas'd , his aid 
 As one difarm'd , his anger all he loft. " 
 
 9 
 
io6 THE i. I r i: o f m i l t o n. 
 
 It has been hk\ , that ]\'i]tcn refemhled 
 his own Adam in the comehnels of liis per- 
 fon ; but he leenis to have refembled him 
 liill more in mnch nobler endoA',ments. , and 
 particularly in unicing great tendernefs of 
 iieart t® ecjual dignity of mind. Soon after he 
 had pardoneel, and lived again ^vith his wife, 
 he allorded an alylnm, in his own houfe, to 
 both her parents, and to their numerous family. 
 They were active royalifls , and fell in.to great 
 dittrefs by the ruin of their party: thefc \vere the 
 perfons who had not only treated Milton with 
 contemptuous pride , but had imbittered liis 
 exiftcnce for four years, by infngating his Avife 
 to perfift in defer ting him. The mother , as 
 Wood intimates, was his greatefi: enemy, and 
 occahoned the pei'verfe conducl of her daughter. 
 The father , though fumptuous in his mode of 
 life when he firfl; received Milton as his fon-in- 
 laAV , had never paid the marriage portion of a 
 thoufand pounds, according to his agreement, 
 and was now ftrit)t of his property by the pre- 
 valence of the party he had oppofed. On per- 
 fons thus contumelious and culpable towards 
 him, Milton beftowed his favor and protection. 
 Can the records of private life exhibit a more 
 magnanimous example of forvigenefs and bene- 
 ficence ? 
 
 At the time of his wife's unexpected return. 
 he was preparing to remove from Alderlgate t( 
 a larger houfe in Barbican , -with a view ol 
 
1 HE LITE OF M I L T O N. I07 
 
 increafing the number of his fcholars. It was 
 in tliis new nidnlion tliat lie received the for- 
 given penitent, and provided a refuge for her 
 relations , wb.om he retained under his roof , ac- 
 cordinn; to Fcnton , " till their affairs were ac- 
 '*■ commodated by his intereft witli the vicio- 
 " rious party. 
 
 They left him foon after the death of his father, 
 who ended a very long life , in the year 1647, 
 and not without the gratification , peculiarly 
 footjiing to an aneciionate old man, ofbeftowing 
 his benedi(?iion on a grand-child; for, within the 
 year of Milton's re-union with his \vife , his 
 family was increafed by a daughter , Anne , the 
 eldeft of his children , born July Qgth, 1646. 
 
 A'\'hen his apartments were no longer occupied 
 by the guefls , whom he had fc generoufly re- 
 ceived , he admitted more fcholars ; but their 
 number •was fmall, and Philips imagines, that 
 he was induced to withdraw himfelf from the 
 bufinefs of education by a profpe6i of being 
 appointed adjutant general in Sir William "Wal- 
 ler's , army : whatever might have been the 
 motive for his change of life , he quitted his 
 large houfe in Barbican for a fmaller in Hoi- 
 born , " am.ong thofe ( fays his nephew ) that 
 ''• open bak^\■ards into Lnicoln's Inn Fields , 
 where he lived, according to the fame author, 
 in great privacy , and perpetually engaged in a 
 variety of lludies. 
 
108 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Three years elapfcd withoiit any new publi- 
 cation from his pen ; a iilence which tlie various 
 affe6ling occurrences in his family woukl natu- 
 rally produce. In i64(j he publiflied The Tenure 
 of Kings and Magiflrates ; and in his fummary 
 account of his own writings , he relates the time 
 and occafion of this performance. He declares, 
 that without any perfonal malevolence againft 
 the deceafed monarch , wJio had been tried and 
 executed before this publication appeared , it 
 was written to compofe the minds of the peo- 
 ple, difturbed by the duplicity and turbulence 
 of certain prelbyterian minifters , who affected 
 to confider the fentence againll the king as con- 
 trary to the prhiciples of every proteftant church, 
 " a falfliood ( fays Milton ) which , without 
 " inveighing againll Charles , I refuted by the 
 " teflimony of their mofl: eminent theologians''"'. " 
 
 * Turn vero tandem , cum prefbyteriani quiclam miniftri. 
 Carolo prius infeftiffimi, nunc independentium partes fiiis an- 
 teferri , & in fenatu plus poflTe indignantes , parliament! fen- 
 tentia de rege latx ( non facto irati, fed quod ipforum faftio 
 lion fecilTet ) reclamitarent , & quantum in ipfis erat tumul- 
 tuarentur , aufi affirmare proteftantium doftrinam , omnefque 
 ecclelias reformatas ab ejufmodi in reges atroci fententia 
 abhorrere , ratus falfitati tarn apertx palam cundem obviam 
 efie, ne tum quidem de Carolo quLcquam fcripli aut fuafi , fed 
 quid in genere contra tyrannos liceret , addu<3:is baud paucis 
 fummorum theologorum teftimoniis, oftendi ; & infigneni homi- 
 num meliora profitentium, five ignorantiam five inipudentiam 
 prope concionabundus incefli. Liber ifte non nifi poft mortem 
 regis prodiit , ad componendos potius hominum animos 
 
THE LIFE OP MILTON. log 
 
 His obfervations on the articles of peace be- 
 tween the Earl of Ormond and the Irifli papifts 
 appeared in the fame year; a performance that 
 he probably thought too inconfiderable to enu- 
 merate in his own account of what he had pub- 
 liflied ; it includes , however , fome remarkably 
 keen ftri^lures on a letter \vritten by Ormond , 
 to tempt Colonel Jones, the governor of Dub- 
 lin , to defert the Parliament , who had intrufted 
 him with his command. Ormond , having im- 
 puted to the prevailing party in England a de- 
 fign to eftablilh a perfect Turkifii tyranny, Mil- 
 ton, -with great dexterity, turns the exprefhon 
 againft Ormond, obferving, that the defign of 
 bringing in that tyranny is a monarchical de- 
 fign , and not of thofe ^vho have difTolved mo- 
 narchy. '''• Witnefs ( fays he) that confultation 
 " had in the court of France , under Charles 
 " the IXth , at Blois, wherein Poncet , a certain 
 " court proje61or , brought in fecretly by the 
 " chancellor Biragha, after many praifes of the 
 " Ottoman government , propofes ways and 
 " means at large , in the prefence of the king, 
 " the queen regent, and Anjou the king's bro- 
 " ther ; hoAv, with belt expedition and leaft noife? 
 " the Turkifii tyranny might l^e fet up in France." 
 I tranfcribe the paffage as an example of Milton's 
 applying hiflorical anecdotes ^vith peculiar felicity. 
 
 faclus, quam a J ftatuendum de Carolo quicquam , quod non 
 mea, fed magiftratmim intererat , & peraftum jam turn erat 
 — Profc Works , vol. ii, p. 38?. 
 
no 
 
 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 He now began to employ himfelf in one of 
 the great works, with which he hoped to en- 
 rich his native language. The ili.etch that he has 
 drawn of himfelf and his ftodies , at this period, 
 is fo interefting and honorable , that it would 
 be injurious not to tranllate the Litin expref- 
 fions to which I allude. 
 
 '•' Thus (fays Milton) as a private citizen , 
 I gratuitoufly gave my afhliance to the church 
 and flate- on me, in return, they bej owed 
 only the common benefit of prote61ion ; but 
 my condut^t affuredly gave me a good con- 
 fcience, a good reputation among good men, 
 and this honorable freedom of difcourle: others 
 
 HaiiQ Ultra prirntos parietes meam opemm nunc eccltfix , 
 nunc I'eipublics , gratis dedi ; mihi viciffim vd Hkc vd iUa 
 prajter incohimitatem nihil; bonam certe confcientiain , boir m 
 apnd bonos exiftimationem , & honeibm banc dicendi libertn- 
 tem fafta ipfa reddidere : conimoda alii, alii honores gratis ad 
 Ic trahebant 5 me nemo ambientem , nemo per nmicos quicquam 
 petentem, cuna: foribus affixum petitoris vnicu aut minorum 
 conventuum veftibiilis hxrentem nemo me unquam vidit. Domi 
 fere me continebam ; meis ipfe facultatbus, tametfi hoc civili 
 tumuitu magna ex parte fxpe detentls, S: ccnfum fere iniqiiius 
 mihi impofitum & vitam utcunque frugi tolerabam. His rebus 
 confeftis , cum jam abunde otii exiftimarem mihi futuniin , ad 
 hiftoriam gentis ab liUima origine repetitam ad hsc ufque tem- 
 pera , fi polfem, pcrpcmo filo deducendam mc convert! : Oua- 
 tuor jam libros abfolveram, cum ecce nihil tale cogitantem mc 
 Caroli regno in rempublicam redado , concilium ftatus quo di- 
 citur cum primum authoritate parliamcnti conftitutum ad fc 
 vocat, meaque opera ad res prsefcrtim extcrnas uti voluit. — 
 Profe Works, vol. ii. p. 3S6. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. -Ill 
 
 " have been bufy in drawing to themfelves un- 
 ". merited emoluments and honor ; no one has 
 ** ever beheld me foliciting any thing, either in~ 
 " perfon or by my friends ; I have confined my- 
 " felf mnch at home; and by my o^vn property, 
 *' though mucli of it has been withheld from 
 '" me in this civil tumult, I have fupported life, 
 " liowever fparingly, and paid a tax impofed 
 " upon me , not in the mofl equitable pro- 
 " portion. 
 
 " Having noA/ a profpef} of abundant lei- 
 *' fure, I dire(fted my ftudies to the hiflory of my 
 " country, \vhich I began from its remotcft 
 " fource , and intended to bring do\vn , if pof- 
 *' hble, in a regular procefs, to the prefent times. 
 *' I had executed four bool.s , w'hen , on the 
 " fettlement of the republic, the council of flate, 
 " then firu eftabliilied by the authority of p.ir- 
 " liament , called me moft unexpecftedly to its 
 '• ft- rvice , ai^d \vilhed to employ me chiefly in 
 " its foreign concerns." It has not yet, I be- 
 lieve, been afcertained to whom Pvlilton was par- 
 ticularly indebted for a public appointment. " He 
 *• ^vas (fays Wood) without any feeking of I'is, 
 " by the endeavours of a private acquaintance , 
 " Avho was a member of the ue^v council of ftate, 
 " cholen I,atin fecretary. " The new council con- 
 fifted of thirty nine members, including two per- 
 lons, whom ^ve m.ay fuppofe equally inclined to 
 promote the interefl: of Milton ; thefe were Ser- 
 jeant Bradfliaw and Sir Harry Vane the younger: 
 
112 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 it feems probable that he owed his ftation of 
 fecretary to the former, fiiice , in his Second 
 Defence , he mentions him as a friend entitled 
 to his particular regard, and draws his chara£\er 
 in colors fo vivid , that the portrait may be 
 thought worthy of prefervation , even by thofe 
 who have no efteem for the original. 
 
 The character of a man fo extraordinary , 
 derived from perfonal intimacy , and delineated 
 by a hand fo powerful , can hardly fail to be 
 interefting ; yet it becomes flill more fo, if we 
 confider it as a monument of Milton's gratitude 
 to the friend who fixed him in that public fta- 
 tion 5 which gave fignal exercife to the energy of 
 his mind, and firft made him, as a Latin writer, 
 the admiration of Europe. 
 
 Whatever influence gratitude might have on 
 the defcription , and however different the ideas 
 may be , that are commonly entertained of 
 Bradfliaw, the eulogy beftowed on him by Mil- 
 ton was certainly fincere ; for thougTi not frugal 
 of his praife, yet fuch was his probity, that it 
 may, I think, be fairly proved , he never beftow- 
 ed a particle of applaufe where he did not think 
 it defervedj a point that I hope to eftablifli , by 
 refuting , in the courfe of this narrative , the 
 charge of fervile flattery , ^vhich he is falfely ac-- 
 cufed of having laviihed upon Cromwell. 
 
 To praife , indeed , appears to have been an 
 occupation peculiarly fuited to his fpirit, which 
 was naturally fanguine , free from the gloom of 
 
 I 
 
THE LIFE or MILTOK. llS 
 
 farcaflic melancholy , and ever ready to glow 
 with aifeciionate enthufiafm. His chara^ier of 
 Bradfhaw may illuflrate this remark ; it is writ- 
 ten with peculiar elegance and afFeclion; the fol- 
 lo^\•ing portion of it will be fufficient to fhow , 
 not only the fervency of his friendfhip, but his 
 facility and force of pencil in the delineation of 
 chara£^er *. 
 
 " He had, united to the knowledge of law, 
 *' a liberal difpofition , an elevated mind , and 
 *' irreproachable integrity of morals , neither 
 " gloomy nor fevere , but courteous and mild. 
 
 * " Attiilerat zi legnm fcientiam ingenium liberale, animiitn 
 
 " excelfum , mores integros ac nemini obnoxios ; nee 
 
 " triftis, nee fcverus,fed comis ac placidus. In confiliis ae 
 " laboribiis publicis maxime omnium indcfeGTns , multifqiie 
 " par unxis ; domi , fi qiiis alius, pro fuis facultatibus hof- 
 " pitalis ac fplendidus ; amicus longe fideliffimus , atqne in 
 " omni fortuna certifBmus ; bene merentcs quofcunque nemo 
 " citius auc libentius agnofcit , neque majore benevolentia 
 " profequitur 5 nunc pios , nunc dodios , aut quamvis ingenii 
 *' laude cognitos , nunc militares etiara & fortes viros ad ino- 
 " piam redaftos fuis opibus fublevat 5 iis , fi non indigent, 
 ** edit tamen libens atqne ampleSitur j alienas laudes perpetuo 
 " praedicare , fuas tacere folitus. Ouod fi caufa oppreffi 
 " cujufpiam defendenda palam , fi gratia aut vis potentiorum 
 " oppugnanda, fi in quemquam benemeritum ingratitude pu- 
 " blica objurganda fit, turn quidem in illo viro , vel facun- 
 ^ diam vel conftantiam nemo defideret, non patronum, non 
 " amicum , vel idoneum magis & intrepidum, vel difertiorem 
 " alium quifquam fibi optet, habet, qiiem non mins dimovere 
 ^ redlo, non metus aut munera propofito bono atque officio, 
 •* vultufque ac mentis firmiffimo ftatu dejicerc vaieant. '"— - 
 Profe Works. toI. ii. p. 389. 
 
114- THE L I r 1- OF MILTON. 
 
 a 
 
 Tn public councils and labors he is the moft 
 
 indefatigable of men, and alone equal to nrjny; 
 
 in his houfe he, if any man , may be efteemed 
 
 hofpitable and fplendid , in proportion to his 
 
 " fortune ; as a friend' faithful in the higlieft 
 
 " degree, and mofl: furely to be depended upon 
 
 ' in every emergency ; no man fooner or more 
 
 freely acknowledges merit, wherever it may 
 
 be foimd ; no man re-.vards it- with greater 
 
 benevolence ; he raifes fiom indicrence at his 
 
 ov/n cofi: , fometimes men of piety, learning, 
 
 and talents , fometimes thofe brave military 
 
 men , whofe profperity has not been equal 
 
 to their valor : fuch pei-fons , if they are not 
 
 " indigent, he fliil honors with his regard; it is 
 
 his nature to proclaim the defert of others , 
 
 " and to be filent on his own 
 
 If the caule of any one inider opprefhon 
 " is to be openly defended , if the influence or 
 " authority of rrien in power is to be oppoTed, 
 " if the ingratitude of the pu.blic towards any 
 " individual of merit is to be reproved , no want 
 " will be found in this man , either of eloquence 
 " or courage; nor can any fuiTcrer wifii to fnd, 
 " on fuch occafions , a patron and a fr aid 
 " more fuired to his necefilties, more refo; te, 
 " or moreaccompliflied ; he already poflefles h ch 
 " a friend, and f ich a patron as no mcnacfs an 
 " djive from the line of reditude, whom ne 1 ex 
 " terrors nor bribes can divert from the duty lie is 
 
1 n E LITE OF M 1 E T O N. 1 1 5 
 
 " purfuin? , or fliake from his fettled firmnefs 
 '' of mind and countenance. 
 
 A writer of a fino;aine imagination , who 
 delineates a public character he admires in the 
 glowing colors of affection , has rarely the good 
 fortune to find tlie perfonage \vliom he l^as 
 praifed acting in perfect conformity to his 
 panegyric ; but Milton , in one particular cir- 
 cumfiance , had this rare felicity , in regard to 
 the friend whom he fo fervently commended ; 
 for Bradflla^v refilled the tyrannical orders o 
 Cromwell, in the plenitude of his power, with 
 fuch firmnefs, that we might almoit fuppofe him 
 animated by a defire to acf up to the letter of 
 tlie eulogy , Avith which he had been honored 
 by the eloquence and the efieem of Milton. 
 This will fufiPiciently appear by the following 
 anecdote in Ludlow's 'Memoirs, \vho after fpeak- 
 ing of Oliver's ufurpation , and the univerfal 
 terror he infpired, relates how he himfelf was 
 fummoned, Avith Bradllla^v, Sir Henry Vane, 
 and colonel Rich, to appear before the ufurper 
 in council. '" Croniwell (fays Ludlo\v) as foon as 
 " he faw the lord prefident, required him to 
 " take out a new commiffion for his office of 
 '• chief juftice of Chefter, which he refufed , al- 
 '' ledging that he held that place by a grant 
 " from the parliament of England, to continue, 
 '• ' quamdiu fe bene gefierit;' and \vhether he 
 *'• had carried himfelf with that integrity , which 
 *' his commiifion exacvted, he was ready to fubmit 
 
Il5 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 " to a trial by twelve Engliilimen , to be chofeii 
 " even by Cromwell himfelf. " 
 
 This oppofition to tlie ufurper was affuredly 
 magnanimous, and the more fo as Bradlhaw per- 
 lifted in it, and a£lnally \vent his circuit as chief 
 juftice without paying any regard to what Crom- 
 well had required. The odium which the pre- 
 iident juftly incurred in the trial of Charles feems 
 to have prevented even ourjhberal hiflorians from 
 recording with candor the great qualities he pof- 
 fcfTed : he was undoubtedly not only an intrepid 
 but a fincere enthufiafl in the canfe of the com- 
 monwealth. His difcourfe on his death-bed is a 
 fanflion to his fincerity ; he regarded it as meri- 
 torious to have pronounced fentence on his king, 
 in thofe awful moments when he was pafhng 
 himfelf to the tribunal of his God. Whatever 
 we may think of his political tenets, let us render 
 juflice to the courage and the confiftency with 
 which he fupported them. — The mind of Mil- 
 ton was in unifon with the high-toned fpirit of 
 this refolute friend , and we Ihall foon fee how 
 little ground there is to accufe the poet of fer- 
 vility to Cromwell ; but ^ve liave firfl to notice 
 the regular feries of his political compofitions. 
 
 Soon after his public appointment, he \vas re- 
 quefted by the council to counteraft the eKi^ci 
 of the celebrated book, entitled, Icon Bafilike? 
 the Royal Image, and in 1649 he publiflied his 
 Iconoclafles, the Image Breaker. The fagaciry of 
 Milton enabled him to difcover, that the pious 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 1 1 7 
 
 work imputed to the deceafed king was a politi- 
 cal artifice to ferve the caufe of the royalifls; but 
 as it was-impollible for him to obtain fuch evi- 
 dence to detect the impofition as time has fmce 
 produced, he executed a regular reply to the 
 book, as a I'eal produd^ion of the king, intimat- 
 ing at the fame time his fufpicion of the fraud. 
 
 This reply has recently drawn on the name of 
 Milton much liberal praife, and much injurious 
 obloquy. A Scottilh critic of great eminence , 
 Lord Monboddo, has celebrated the opening of 
 the Iconoclaftes as a model of Englilh profe, or, 
 to ufe his own jufi: exprelTions, " a fpecimen of 
 " noble and manly eloquence. " Johnfon, from 
 the fame work, takes occafion to infinuate, that 
 Milton was adiflionefl man. A charge fo ferious, 
 and from a moralifl: who profefTed fuch an at- 
 tachment to truth , deferves fome difcufRon. " As 
 " fa£iion (fays the unfriendly biographer) feldom 
 *' leaves a man honefl: , however it might find 
 him , Milton is fufpe£led of having interpolat- 
 ed the book called Icon Bafilike, by inferting 
 a ])rayer taken from Sidney's Arcadia , and im- 
 puting it to the king, whom he charges, in 
 his Iconoclaftes, with the ufe of this prayer as 
 with a heavy crime , in the indecent language 
 with which profperity had emboldened the 
 " advocates for rebellion to infult all that is ve- 
 " nerable and great." 
 
 A fimple queftion will fhow the want of can- 
 dor in this attempt to impeach the moral credit 
 
H 8 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 of Milton. By whom is he fufpe6]ed of this dif- 
 honeftyp His fevere biograplier finks the name 
 of his own old and difhonorable aflbciate in de- 
 preciating Milton , and does not inform us that it 
 was the infamous Lauder, who, having failed to 
 blaft the reputation of the poet, with equal im- 
 potence and fury purfued his attack aeaiDft: the 
 probity of the man in an execrable pamphlet enti- 
 tled " King Charles the Firft vindicated from tlie 
 " Charge of Plag-iarifm brouglit arrainfl him by 
 " Milton, and Milton himfelf convicted of For- 
 " gery. " Inftead of naming Lauder, who per- 
 fified in trying to fubftantiate this moft impro- 
 bable charge, Johnfon would inhdioufly lead us 
 to believe, that the refpecStable Dr. Birch fup- 
 ported it, though Birch, who had indeed print- 
 ed in tlie appendix to his Life of Milton , the 
 idle flory which Lauder urges as a proof of Mil- 
 ton's impollure, had properly reje&d that ftory 
 from the improved edition of his ^vork , and 
 honorably united ^vith another candid biogra- 
 pher of the poet, the learned biiliop of Brillol , 
 ill declaring tliat " fuch contemptible evidence 
 " is not to be admitted againft a man , wlio had 
 '^ a foul above being guilty of fo mean an 
 " action." 
 
 There are fome calumnies fo utterly defpicable 
 and abfurd , tliat to refute them elaborately is 
 almoft a difgrace : did not the calumny I am 
 now fpeaking of belong to tins defcription , it 
 might be here obfcrved , that a Avriter ^vho 
 
THE LIFT OF M I T. T O N. 1 IQ 
 
 pnblinied remarks on .Tohnfor/s Life of Milton , 
 in ^vh!cll the afperity of that biographer is op- 
 pofed with fuperior afperity , has proved , with 
 ne\v arguments , the fntihty of the charge in 
 qneftion. Inflead of repeating thefe ,.. let me 
 obferve , that the attempt of Johnfon to revive 
 a bafe and fufhciently refuted imputation againft 
 the great author whofe life lie was writing , is 
 one of the mod extraordinary proofs that lite- 
 rature can exhibit how far the virulence of po- 
 litical hatred may pervert a very powerful 
 mind , even a mind which makes moral truth 
 its principal purfuit, and alliduoufly labors to 
 be juft. This remark is not made in enmity to 
 Johnfon , but to Ihow how cautions tke m.oft 
 cultivated underftanding iliould be in watching 
 the influence of any hoflile prejudice. Milton 
 himfelf may be alfo urged as an example to 
 enforce the (lime caution ; for tJiough he was 
 certainly no impoflor in imputing the prayer in 
 qucfiion to the king , yet his confidering the 
 king's ufe of it as an offence acainft heaven , is 
 a pitiable abfurdity; an abfurdity as glaring as 
 it would be to affirm, that the divine poet is 
 himfelf profane in afhgning to a fpeech of the 
 Almighty , in his poem , the two following 
 verfies : 
 
 Son of my bofom , fon who art alone 
 
 My word , my wifdom , and effedual might — 
 
IQO THE LITE OF M 1 L T U f^. 
 
 Becaufe they are partly borrowed from a line 
 in Virgil, addreiTed by a; heathen; goddefs to 
 her child : 
 
 " Nate , meae vires , mea magna potentia folus. " 
 
 The heat of political animofity could thus throw 
 a mift over the bright intellects of Milton ; yet 
 his Iconoclafles , taken all together, is a noble 
 effort of manly reafon , it uncanonized a fiditious 
 faint , who affuredly had no pretenhon to the 
 title. 
 
 Having thus fignalized himfelf as the literary 
 antagonift of Charles, when the celebrated Sal- 
 mahus was hired to arraign the proceedings of 
 England againft him , every member of the 
 EngliOi council turned his eyes upon Milton, as 
 the man from whofe fpirit and eloquence his 
 country might exped the moft able vindication. 
 In i55i , he publiilied his defence of the people, 
 the moft elaborate of all his Latin compofitions; 
 the merits and defects of this fignal performance 
 might be moft properly difculfed in a prelimi- 
 nary difcourfe to the profe works of Milton ; 
 here I fliall only remark , that in the compoli- 
 tion of it he gave the moft fmgular proof of 
 genuine public fpirit that ever patriot had oc- 
 calion to difplay ; fmce , at the time of his en- 
 gaging in this work , the infirmity in his eyes 
 was fo alarming, that his phyficians affured him 
 he muft inevitably lofe them if he perfifted in 
 
 his 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 121 
 
 his labor. " On this occafion , " ( fays Milton 
 to a favage antagonift , who had reproached 
 him with blindnefs ) " ■■•' I refle61ed that many 
 ' had purchnfed with a fuperior evil a hghter 
 ' good, glory Avith death; to me, on the con- 
 ' trary , greater good was propofed with an 
 ' inferior evil; fo that, by incurring blindnefs 
 ' alone , I micrht fulfil the moft honorable of 
 ' all duties , which , as it is a more folid ad- 
 ' vantage than glory itfelf. ought to be more 
 ' eligible in the eftimation of every man ; I 
 ' refolved therefore to make what ihort ufe I 
 ' might yet have of my eyes as conducive as 
 
 * Unde fic mecum reputabam , miikos graviore malo minus 
 boniim , morte glorinm , redemiflfe ; mihi contra majus bomim 
 minore cum malo proponi ; uC p(j(fem cum cKcitate fola vel 
 honcftiffimum officii munus implere quod ut ipfa gloria per 
 fe eft folidius, ita ciiique optatius atque antiquius debet elTr. 
 H,ic igitur tarn brevi luminum ufura quanta maxima quivi 
 cum utilitate publica, quoad liceiet , fruendum cfTe ftatui. 
 Videtis quid prxtulerim , quid amiferim , qua indudlus ratione, 
 defigmnt ergo judiciorum Dei calumniatores maledicere, deque 
 me fomnia fibi Hngere : fic denique habendo me fortis mex 
 neque pigcre neque pceniterej immotum atque fixum in fen- 
 tentia perftare ; Deum iratiim neque fentire, neque habere, 
 immo maximis in rebus clementiam ejus & benignitatem 
 erga me paternam experiri atque agnofcere 5 in hoc prsefertim 
 quod folante ipfo atque animum confirmante in ejus divina 
 voluntate acquiefcam ; quid is largitus mihi fit quam quid 
 negaverit faepius cogitans 5 poftremo nolle me cum fuo quovis 
 rediflime facto , fafti mei confcientiam permutare , aut rocor- 
 dationem ejus gratam mihi femper atque tranqiiillam djpo- 
 nere. — Profe Works, vol. 2. p. 376. 
 
 10 
 
122 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 *' poflible to public utility : you fee what I 
 *• preferred , and wJiat I loft , with the principle 
 *' on which I aciled ; let flandercrs therefore 
 *' ceafe to talk irreverenily on the judgment of ' 
 *' God, and to make n]e the fubjedl; of their 
 " fictions; let them know that I am far from { 
 " confidering my lot with forrovv or repentance; 
 *' that I perfifl: immoveable in my fentiment; that 
 *' I neither fancy nor feel the anger of God , 
 *• but 5 on the contrary, experience and ac- 
 " kno^vledge his paternal clemency and kindnefs } 
 " in my moll im])ortant concerns, in this efpe- ■) 
 " cially, that, by the comfort and confirmation I, 
 " which he himfelf infufes into my fpirit, I ac- • 
 '* quiefce in his divine pleafure , continually 
 " confidering rather what he has beflowed upon 
 *' me, than what he has denied. Penally, that 
 '• I ^vould not exchange tlie confcioufncfs of my 
 *• own conduct for their merit, whatever it may 
 *' be, or part \vith a remembrance, which is to 
 " my own mind a perpetual fource of tran- 
 " quillity and fatisfa6tion. " 
 
 Whenever he is induced to mention himfelf, 
 the purity and vigor of Milton's mind appear 
 in full luftre , whether he fpeaks in verfe or in 
 profe : the preceding paffige from his Second 
 Defence is confonant to the fonnet on his blind- 
 nefs , addreffed to Syriac Skinner , which , though 
 different critics have denied the author to excel 
 in this minute fpecies of compofition , has hardly 
 
THE LIFE OF M I L T O N. 123 
 
 been furpafFed ; it deferves double praife or 
 energy of exprcffion and heroifm of fentiment. 
 
 Cyriac, this three-years day thefe eyes, tho' clear 
 To outward view of blemifli or of fpot , 
 Bereft oF fight their feeing have forgot, 
 Nor to their idle orbs does day appear , 
 
 Or fun, or moon, or liar, throughout the year, 
 Or man or woman ; yet I argue not 
 Againft Heav'n's hand or will , nor bate one jot , 
 Of heart or hope , but itill bear up and fteer 
 Right onward. What fupports me doll thou alk? 
 The confcience, friend , to have loft them over-ply'd 
 In liberty's defence , my noble talk , . 
 
 Of which all Euiope talks fiom fide to fide: 
 
 This thought might lead me thro' theworld's vain 
 mafk 
 Content, tho' blind, had I no better guide." 
 
 The ambition of Milton was as pure as his 
 genius was fublime ; his firll objedl on every oc- 
 cafion was to merit the approbation of his con- 
 fcience and his God ; when this moft important 
 point was fecured , he feems to have indulged 
 the predominant paffion of great minds, and to 
 have exulted, with a triumph proportioned to 
 his toil , in the celebrity he acquired : he muft 
 have been infenfible indeed to public applaufe , 
 had he not felt elated by the iignal honors which 
 were paid to his name in various countries, as 
 
iQ4 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 the eloquent defender of the Enghfli nation. 
 " '■' This I can truly affirm , " ( lays Milton , in 
 mentioning the reception of his great political 
 performance ) " that as foon as my defence of 
 " the people was publifhed , and read with 
 " avidity , there was not , in our metropolis , 
 " any amballador from any flate or foveieign , 
 *' who did not either congratulate me if we met 
 " by chance ^ or exprefs a defire to receive me 
 *' at his houfe, or vifit me at mine." 
 
 Toland relates, that he received from the par- 
 liament a prefent of a thoufand pounds for the 
 defence. The author does not include this cir- 
 cumflance among the many particulars he men- 
 tions of himfelf; and if fuch a reward was ever 
 beftowed upon, him , it muft have been after the 
 publication of his Second Defence, in which he 
 affirms, that he was content with having dif- 
 charged what he conhdered as an honorable 
 public duty, without aiming at a pecuniary re- 
 compence ; and that inftead of having acquired 
 the opulence with which his adverfary reproached 
 him , he received not the flighteft gratuity for 
 that production f. Yet he appears to have been 
 
 * Hoc etiam vere poflfum dicere, quo piimum tempore nof- 
 tra defenfio eft cdita , & legentium ftiidia incaliieie, iiullinn 
 vel principis vel civitatis legatum in urbe turn fiiille , qui noii 
 vel forte obvio mihi gratularetiir , vel co-nventum apud fe cupe- 
 let vel domi inviferet. — Profe Works, vol. 2. p. 394. 
 
 t Contentus quce honefta faclu funt, ea propter fe folum 
 appetifle , & gratis perfequi : id alii viderent tuque fcito mc 
 
T H E L I r E O F M I L T O N. 1Q5 
 
 perfe^ly fatisfied with thekindnefs of his afTociates; 
 for, ill fpeaking of his bhndnefs , he fays, that 
 " far from being negle6led on tliis account by 
 " tlie higiieft characSiers in the republic, they 
 " conftantly regarded him with indulgence and 
 " favor, not feeking to deprive him either of 
 " diftin^iion or emolument, though his powers 
 " of being ufeful were diminilhed ; " hence he 
 compares himfelf to an ancient Athenian , fup- 
 ported by a decree of honor at the expenfe of 
 the public '•'. Among the foreign comphments 
 he received , the applaufe of Chriftina afforded 
 him the higheft gratification ; for he regarded it 
 as an honorable proof of what he had ever af- 
 firmed , that he was a friend to good fovereigns, 
 though an enemy to tyrants : he underftood that 
 the queen of Sweden had made this diflindion 
 in commending his book, and in the warmth 
 
 illas " opimitates , " atquc *' opes, " quas mihi exprobas , 
 noil attigiMFe neque eo nomine quo maxime accufas obolo 
 fadtiim vlitiorem. — Profe Works , vol. ii. p. 378. 
 
 * Ouiii & fummi quoqiie in republica viri quandoquidcm noii 
 otio torpentem me, fed impigrum & funima difcrimina pro li- 
 bertate inter primos adeuntem ociili •Icferuerunt, ipfi non de- 
 ferunt ; verum humana qualia] fint' fecum'reputantes , tanqiiain 
 emerifo favent, indulgent vacationem atqiie otiiim facilcs con- 
 cedunt; ii quid publici muneris , non adimunt^ fi quid ex ea 
 re commodi, non minuunt; & quamvis non sque nunc utili 
 prxbenduin nihilo minus benigne cenfcnti eodem plane honore , 
 ac fi, «t olim Atbenienfibus nios erat, in Prytaneo alenduiM 
 decrevifient. — Profc Works, vol. ii. pag. 376. 
 
126 T H E L I r E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 of his gratitude he beflowed on the northern 
 princefs a very fplendid panegyric, of which the 
 fubfequent conduct of that lingular and fantaflic 
 perfonage too clearly proved her unworthy ; yet 
 Pvlilton cannot fairly be charged with fervile 
 adulation. Chriftina , when he appeared as her 
 eulogifl, was the idol of the literary world. The 
 candor with Avhich flie fpake as a queen on his 
 defence of the people would naturally flrike the 
 author as an engaging proof of her difcernment 
 and magnanimity; he was alfo gratified in no com- 
 mon degree by the coolnefs with ^\ hich fhe treat- 
 ed his adverfary ; for Salmafius, \\hom flie had 
 invited to her court for his erudition , w^as known 
 to have loft her favor, \vhen his literary arro- 
 gance ai.d imbecility were expofed and chaftifed 
 by the indignant fpirit of Milton. The Avretched 
 Salmafius, indeed, was utterly overwhelmed in 
 the encounter : he had quitted France, his native 
 coimtry , where he honorably difdained to pur- 
 chafe a penfion by fiatti-ring the tyranny of Rich- 
 lieu, and had fettled in Leyden as an afylum 
 of liberty; he feemed, therefore, as one of his 
 Parifian correfpondents obferved to him , " to 
 " cancel the merit of his former conduct by 
 *• writing againft England. " Salmafius was ex- 
 travagantly vain , and trufted too much to his 
 great reputation as a fcholar ; his antagonift , 
 on the contrary, was fo little known as a Latin 
 writer before the defence appeared , that feveral 
 riends advifed Milton not to hazard his credit 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 127 
 
 * 
 
 againft a name fo eminent as t]iat of Salmafius. 
 Never did a literary conflict engage the attention 
 of a wider circle; and never did vi^iory declare 
 more decidedly in favor of the party from whom 
 the j)iiblic had leafl; expectation. Perhaps no 
 author ever acquired a more rapid and extenfive 
 celebrity' than Milton gained by this conteft. Let 
 us ho\vever remark, for the interell of literature, 
 that the two combatants were both to blame in 
 their reciprocal ufe of weapons utterly unworthy 
 of the great caufe that each had to fuftain ; not 
 content' to wield the broad and bright fword of 
 national argument , they both defcended to ufe 
 the mean and envenomed dagger of perfonal ma- 
 levolence. They have indeed great authorities of 
 modern time to plead in their excufe, not to 
 mention the bitter difputants of antiquity. It was 
 the opinion of Johnfon , and Milton himfelf 
 feems to have entertained the fame idea, that it 
 is allowable in literary contention to ridicule , 
 vilify, and depreciate as much as pofTible the 
 charaCier of an opponent. Surely this do('^hiue 
 is unworthy of the great names who have endea- 
 voured to fupport it, bodi in theory and prac- 
 tice ; a dodrine not only morally wrong , but 
 prudentially defective; for a malevolent fpirit iu 
 eloquence is like a dangerous varnifli in painting, 
 which may produce, indeed a brilliant and for- 
 cible effect for a time , but ultima':ely injures 
 the fuccefs of the production; a remark that may 
 be verihed in perufnig the Latin profe of Milton, 
 
128 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 where elegance of language and energy of 
 fentiment fuffer not a little from being blended 
 with the tirefome afperity of perfonal inveclive. 
 
 It is a pleafing tranfition to retarn from his 
 enemies to his friends. He had a mind and 
 heart peculiarly alive to the duties and delights 
 of frienddiip , and feems to have been pecuharly 
 happy in this important article of human life. In 
 fpeaking of his blindnefs, he mentions, in the 
 moft interelling manner, the r.fhduous and tender 
 attention , which lie received on that occahon 
 from his friends in general ; fome of them he re- 
 garded as not inferior in kindnefs to Thefeus and 
 Pyiades, the ancient demigods of am.ity. We 
 have loft, perhaps, fome little poems that flowed 
 from the heart of Milton, by their being ad- 
 drefled to perfons who, in the vicifPuudes of pub- 
 lic fortune, were fuddenly plunged into obfcuri- 
 ty with the honors they* had received. Someofliis 
 fonnets that we poffefs did not venture into pub- 
 lic till many years after the death of tlieir author 
 for political reafons; others might be concealed 
 irom the fame motive , and in fuch concealment 
 they might eafily perilli. I can hardly believe that 
 he never addrefied a verfe to Bradfliaw, whom 
 we have feen him praifing fo eloquently in profe; 
 and- among thofe whom he mentions with efleem 
 in his Latin works, there is a k-fs known military 
 friend, who feems fiill more likely to have been 
 honored with fome tribute of the poet's affec- 
 tion, that time and chance may have dellroyed ; 
 
THE L I P E OF MILTON. 129 
 
 I mean his friend Overton, a foldier of eminence 
 in the fervice of tlie parliament, whom Milton 
 defcrihes '" as endeared to him through many 
 '^ years by the fimilicude of tlieir purfuits, by 
 " the fweetnefs of his manners, and by an inti- 
 " macy furpalhng even the union of brothers. "' " 
 A characler i'o highly and tenderly elleemed by 
 tlie poet lias a claim to the attention of his 
 biographer. Overton is commended by the 
 frank ingenuous Ludlow as a brave and faithful 
 officer; he is alfo ridicukd in a ballad of the 
 royalifls as a religious enthufiafl. He had a gra- 
 tuity of 3oo 1. a year conferred on him for his 
 bravery by the parliament, and had rifen to the 
 rank of a major general. Cromwell, apprehenfive 
 that Overton was confpirino; as;ainfl his ufurpa- 
 tion, firfi imprifoned him in the tower, and after- 
 wards confined him in the ifland of Jerfey. A 
 letter, in which Marvel relates to Milton his 
 having prefented to the Prote(*"ior at Windfor a 
 recent copy of the Second Defence , exprelles at 
 the fame time an affe^iionate curiofity concerning 
 the buhnefs of Overton, who was at that time 
 jufi: brought to London by a myflerious order 
 of Crom.^vell. He did not efcape from confine- 
 ment till after th.e death of Oliver, wlien , in 
 confequence of a petition Irom his hfter to the 
 
 * Te , Overtone, mihi multis ab hinc annis & Ihidioriira 
 fimilitiidine , & moriim fiiavitale , conconlia plufqiiam fraterna 
 conjuncliflime. Profe Works, Vol. II. p. 40c. 
 
l3o THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 parliament , lie obtained Jiis releafe. Soon after 
 the rekoration , he was again imprifoned in the 
 Tower with Colonel Defoorow, on a rumor 
 of their being concerned in a treafonable com- 
 motion ; but as that rumor feems to have been 
 a political device of the royalifts , contrived to 
 ftrengthen the new government , he probabb/- 
 reg:i.incd his freedom , though we know not how 
 his a^ive days were concluded. The anxiety 
 and anguifh that Milton muft have indnred in 
 the various calamities to which his friends ^vere 
 expofed on the vicilhtude of public affiirs , for- 
 med, I apprehend, the fevercft fufferings of his 
 extraordinary hfe, in Avhich genius and affli61ion 
 feem to have contended for pre-eminence. 
 
 Some traces of the fufreriiigs I alhide to, tliough 
 myfterioufly veiled, are yet vinble in his poetry, 
 and will be noticed hereafter. Not to anticipate 
 the feverell evil of his deftiny, let me now fpeal; 
 of a foreign friend , in whofe lively regard he 
 found only honor and delig' t. On the publi- 
 cation of his defence, Leonard Philaras, a native 
 of Athens, wlio had diftinguifhed himfelf in Italy, 
 and rifen to the rank of envoy from the duke 
 of Parma to tlie court of France , conceived a 
 flattering defire to cultivate the iriendfliip of Mil- 
 ton. With this view he lent him his portrait, 
 with very engaging letters , and the higheft com- 
 mendation of the recent defence. The reply of 
 Milton is remarkable for its elegance and fpirit; 
 after thanking his correfpondent for prefents fo 
 
T H E L I F E O F M I L T N. l3l 
 
 agreeable, he fays, " '" If Alexander in the midft 
 " of his martial toil confeffed , that he labored 
 " but to gain an eulogy from Athens, I may 
 " think myfelf fortunate indeed, and efleem it 
 " as the higheft honor , to be thus commended 
 " by the man in ^vhom alone the genius and 
 " virtue of the ancient Athenians feem, after fo 
 
 * Cum enim Alexander ille magnns in terris ultimis bellnm 
 gerens, tantos fe militise labores pertuliffe teftatus fit, T»g ttu^ 
 A^nvctiav ev S'o'^Ki.(; sviKct ; quidui ergo mihi gratuler , meque 
 ornari qiiam maxime putem, ejus viri laudibus , in quo jam 
 uno prifcorum Athsnienfutm artes , atque virtutes ills celebra- 
 tiffimx, renafci tam longo intervallo, & reflorefccre videntur. 
 Oua ex urbe cum tot viri difertiflimi prodierint, eorum potif- 
 fimum fcriptis ab adolefcentia pervoh'endis , didicifTe me libens 
 fateor quicquid ego Uteris profeci. Ouod fi mihi tanta vis dicendi 
 accepta ab illis &• quafi transfufa ineffet, ut exercitos noftros 
 & clafles ad liberandam ab Ottomanico tyranno Grxciam , elo- 
 qucntiae patriam , excitare polTem; ad quod facinus egregium 
 noftras opes pene implorare videris, facerem profefto id quo 
 nihil mihi antiquius aut in votis prius elTet. Quid enim vel 
 fortiffimi olim viri, vel eloquentiflimi gloriofius aut fe dignius 
 effe duxerunt , quam vel fuadendo vel fortiter faciendo 
 eAet/9s^«? Kcti ottfjovo/xii^ TrotiiT^cti T«e'EAA«vst??- Verum & alind 
 quiddam prneterea tentandum eft, mea quidem fentcntia longe 
 maximum, ut quis antiquam in animis Griecorum virtutem » 
 induftriam , laborum tolerantiam , antiqua ilia ftudia dicendo , 
 fufcitare atque accendere poffit. Hoc fi quis efFecerit, quod a 
 nemine potius quam abs te, pro tua ilia infigni erga patriam 
 pictate , cum fumma prudentia reique militaris peritia, fummo 
 denique rccuperands libertatis priftinx ftudio conjUiTita , ex- 
 peftare debemus ; neque ipfos fibi Gracos neque iillam gentem 
 Grascis defuturam effe confide. Vale. — Profe Works, vol. :. p. 57^. 
 
l32 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 " long an interval, to revive and flourifh. As 
 " your city has produced nnny molt eloquent 
 " men, I am perfedly vvilling to confefs, that' 
 " whatever proficiency I have made in literature * 
 " is chiefly owing to my long and inceffant 
 " fludy of their works. Had 1 acquired from | 
 " them fnch powers of languag;e as might enable 
 " me to ftimulate our fleets and armies to dehver 
 " Greece , the native feat of eloquence, from the , 
 " tyranny of the Turks ( a fplendid enterprife , i 
 " for which you almoft feem to implore our ■' 
 " alfiftance ) I would affuredly do what would 
 " tfien be among the hrfi obje61s of my dehre; 
 " for what did the braveft or moft eloquent men 
 " of antiquity confider as more glorious or niore , 
 " worthy of themfelves , than by perfuafive Ian- I 
 *' guage or bold exploits to render the Greeks i 
 " free, and their own kgiflators. " He clofes ' 
 his letter by obferviijg very juftly. that " it is 
 *' firft neceflary to kindle in the m.inds of the 
 *' modern Greeks the fpirit and virtue of their 
 *' anceftors , " (politely adding) that " if tliis 
 " could be accompliihed by any man, it might 
 " be moft reafonably expecicd from the patriotic 
 " enthufiafm , and the experience, civil and mi- 
 " litary, of his accomplill/ed correfpondcnt. " 
 This letter is dated June, ]63q. Milton had foon 
 afterwards the gratificatioji of a vifit from tlrs 
 liberal Athenian, who took fo tender an inter- 
 eit in the blindnefs of his friend, that , on his 
 return to Paris, lie wrote to him on the fubjeO. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. l33 
 
 The following anfvver of Milton relates the par- 
 ticulars of his diforder, and flio\vs at the fame 
 time with what cheerful magnanimity he fup- 
 ported it. 
 
 " "' To Leonard Philaras. 
 
 " As I have cheriflied from childhood ( if ever 
 mortal did ) a reverential fondnefs for the Greciau 
 
 '' Leonardo Philaras Athenienfi. 
 
 Cum fim a pueritia totiiis Graci nominis, tiiarnmque in pri- 
 mis Athenariim cultor , fi qiiis alius, turn una hoc femper mihi 
 perfuafifTimum habcbam , fore ut ilia urbs praeclaram aliquando 
 redditura vicem effet benevolentix erga fe mese. Neque defuit 
 fane tux patrice nobiliffimx antiquus ille genius augurio meo ; 
 deditque te nobis & germanum Atticum & noftri amantiflimum ; 
 qui me, fcriptis duntaxat notum, & locis ipfe disjunclus, hu- 
 maniflime per litcras compellcns & Londinum poftea inopinatus 
 adveniens; vifenfque non videntem, etiam in ea calnmitate , 
 propter quam confpeftior nemini, defpeftior multis fortaffis fim, 
 cadem benevolentia profequaris. Cum itaque author mihi fis , 
 ut vifus recuperandi fpem oninem ne abjiciam, habere te ami- 
 cum ac necefTarium tuum Pnnfiis Tevenotum mcdicum , in cu- 
 randis prsfertim oculis prajftantiffimum , quern fis de meis lu- 
 minibus confulturus, fi modo acceperis a me unde is caufas 
 morbi &. fymptomata poffit intelligere, faciam equidem quod 
 hortaris , ne oblatam undecunque divinitus fortaffis opem repu- 
 diare videar. Decennium , opinor , plus minus eft , ex quo de- 
 bilitari atque hebefcere vifum fenfi, eodemque tempore lumen, 
 vifceraqu^ omnia gravari , flatibufque vexari; & mane quidem, 
 fi quid pro more legere coepilTem , oculi ftatim penitus dolere; 
 leftionemque refugere, polt mediocrem deinde corporis exerci- 
 tationem recreari ; quam afpexiflera lucernam , iris quaedam vifa 
 
l3^ THE LIFE CF MILTON. 
 
 name, and for your native Athens in pnrticular, 
 fo have I continually perfuacled myfelf, that 
 at fome period I lliould receive from that city 
 a very fignal return for my benevolent regard : 
 nor has the ancient genius of your mofl noble 
 
 eft redimere : haud ita nuilto poft {iniftra in parte ociili finiftri 
 '(is enim oculiis aliquot annis prius altera nubilavit ) caligo 
 oborta, qus ad latus illiul fita erant, omnia eripiebat. Anteriora 
 quoqiie, fi dexterum forte oculiim claufiffem, minora vifa funt. 
 Deliciente per hoc fere triennium fenfim atqiie paulatim altero 
 quoque liunine, aliquot ante menlibus quam vifus omnis abole- 
 retur, qux immotus ipfe cernerem, vifa funt omnia nunc dex- 
 trorfum , nunc finiftrorfum natare; frontem totam atque tem-' 
 pora inveterati quidem vapores videntur infediffe; qui fomno-' 
 lenta quadam gravitate oculos, a cibo prscfcrtim ufqut ad 
 vefperam , plerumque urgent atque deprimunt ; ut mihi baud 
 raro veniat in meniem SHlmydeffii vatis Phinei in Argonauticis: 
 
 Sed neque illud omiferim, dum adhuc vifus aliquantulum 
 fupererat, ut primum in ledto decubuilTem mcque in alterutrum 
 liitus reclinafTem , confueviiTe copiofum lumen claufis oculis 
 emicare; deinde, immiiuito indies vifu, colores perinde obfcu-i 
 riores cum impetu & frngore quodam intirao exilire ; nunc 
 autem, quaii extinfto lucido , merus nigror , aut cincraceo 
 diltindlas, & quafi intedtus folet fe afifundere : caligo tameii 
 qua: pcrpctuo obfervacur , tarn noftu , quam interdiu albenti 
 fL'mper quam nigricanCi proprior videtur; & volvente fe oculo 
 aiiquantulum lucis quafi per rimulam admittit. !ix quo tametfi 
 medico tantundem quoque fpei poffit elucere , tamen ut in ,re 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. l35 
 
 country failed to realize my prefage ; he has given 
 me 111 you an Attic brother , and one moft 
 tenderly attached to me. Though J ^vas known 
 to yon only by my writings; and though your refi- 
 dence was far diflant from mine , you firft ad- 
 drefTed me in the mofl engaging terms by letter ; 
 and afterwards coming unexpe61edly to London, 
 and vifiting the flranger, who had no eyes to fee 
 you , continued your kindnels to me under that 
 calamity , which can render me a more ehgible 
 friend to no one , and to many , perhaps , may 
 make me an object of difregard. 
 
 " Since, therefore, you requeft me not to re- 
 -rejeft all hope of recovering my fight, as you 
 have an intimate friend at Paris , in Thevenot 
 the phyfician , who excels particularly in relieving 
 ocular complaints , and whom you wifli to confult 
 
 plane infanabili ita me paro atque compono ; illudqiie faepe 
 cogito, cum deftinati ciiique dies tenebrarum , quod monet 
 fapiens multi fint , meas adhuc tenebras, lingulari numi- 
 nis benignitate , inter otium & ftudia , vocefque amicorura 
 & falutatione, illis Icthalibus multo efle mitiores. Ouod fi , 
 lit fcriptum eft, non folo pane vivit homo, fed omni verbo 
 prodennte per os Dei, quid eft, cur quis in hoc itidem non 
 acquiefcat, non folis fe oculis , fed Dei dudlu an providentiae 
 fatis oculatum eCTe. Sane dummodo ipfe mihi profpicit, ipfe 
 mihi providet , quod facit , meque per omnem vitam quafi 
 manu ducit atque deducit,ne ego meos oculos, quanJoquidem 
 ipfi fic vifum eft, libens ffriari juflero. Teque , mi Philara, 
 quocunque res cecidit, non minus forti & coniirmato animo , 
 quam fi Lynceus effem , valere jubeo. 
 Weftmonafterio , Septemb. 28, 1654. 
 
 Profe Works , Vol. II. p. 577. 
 
J .36 T H E L I F E O F M 1 L T O N. 
 
 concerning my eyes , after receiving from me 
 fuch an account as may enable him to underftaisd 
 the fource and fymptom.s of my diibrder, I will 
 certainly^ follow your kind fuggeftion , that I 
 may not appear to reje(51 ainftance thus offered 
 me, perhaps providentially. 
 
 " It is about ten years, I think, hnce I per- 
 ceived my fight to grow weak and dim , finding 
 at the fame time my inteftints afflided with 
 ilatulence and opprefTion. 
 
 " Even in the morning , if I began as ufual to 
 read, my eyes immediately fuffered pain, and 
 feemed to ilirink from reading; but, after fome 
 moderate bodily exercife , were refreflied; when- 
 ever I looked at a candle I favv a fort of iris 
 around it. Not long afterwards , on the left 
 fide of my left eye ( which began to fail fome 
 years before the other ) a darknefs arofe , that 
 hid from me all things on that fide ; — if I 
 chanced to clofe my right eye , whatever was 
 before me feemed diminillied. — In the laft three 
 years, as my remaining eye failed by degrees 
 fome months before my fight was utterly gone , 
 all things that I could difcern , though I moved 
 not myfelf , appeared to f[u6iuate. now to the 
 right, now to the left. Obftinate vapors feem 
 to have fettled all over my forehead and my , 
 temples, overwhelming my eyes with a fort of' I 
 lleepy heavinefs , efpecially after food , till the 
 evening; fo that I frequently recolle£l the con- 
 dition of the prophet Phineus in the Argonautics : 
 
 Him 
 
. THE LIFE OF MILTON. iSj 
 
 Him vapors dark 
 Envelop'd , and the earch appeared to roll 
 Beneath him, finking in a lifelefs trance. 
 
 But I fhould not omit to fay , that while I had 
 fome little fight remaining , as foon as I went to 
 bed , and reclined on either fide , a copious 
 light ufed to dart from my clofed eyes ; then, as 
 my fight grew daily lefs , darker colors feemed 
 to burft forth with vehemence, and a kind of 
 internal noife; but now, as if every thing lucid 
 were extinguiflied , blacknefs either abfolute or 
 chequered, and interwoven, as it were with 
 a(h- color, is accuftomed to pour itfelf on my 
 eyes; yet the darknefs perpetually before them , 
 as well during the night as in the day , feems 
 always approaching rather to white than to black, 
 admitting , as the eye rolls , a minute portion of 
 light as through a crevice. 
 
 " Though from your phyfician fuch a portion 
 of hope alfo may arife, yet, as under an evil that 
 admits no cure, I regulate and tranquillize my 
 mind , often refie6ling , that fince the days of 
 darknefs allotted to each , as the wife man re- 
 minds us, are many, hitherto my darknefs, by 
 the fingular mercy of God , with the aid of 
 ftudy, leifure, and the kind converfation of my 
 friends, is much lefs oppreflive than the deadly 
 darknefs to which he alludes. For if, as it is 
 written , man lives not by bread alone , but by 
 every word that proceeds from the mouth of 
 
 11 
 
l38 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 God , why fliorild not a man acqniefce even in 
 this? not thinking that he can derive hght from 
 his eyes alone, but efleeming himfeif fufficiently 
 enlightened by the condu6^ or providence of God. 
 
 " As long, tlierefore, as he looks forward , 
 and provides for me as he does , and leads me 
 backward and forward by the hand, as it were 
 through my Avhole life, fliall I not clieerfuUy 
 bid my eyes keep holiday , fmce fuch appears to 
 be hig pleafure? But whatever may be the event 
 of your kindnefs, my dear Philaras , with a mind 
 not lefs refolute and firm than if I were Lynceus 
 himfeif, I bid you fare\vel. 
 
 " VVeftminfter, Sept. q8, 1654." 
 
 We have no reafon to imagine that Milton 
 
 received any kind of medical benefit from the 
 
 friendly intention of this amiable foreigner. 
 
 Strange as the idea may at firfl appear, perhaps 
 
 it was better for him, as a man and as a poet, 
 
 to remain without a cure; for his devout ten- 
 
 dernefs and energy of mind had fo far converted 
 
 his calamity into a bleffing, that it feems rather 
 
 to have promoted than obftrucled both the hap- 
 
 pinefs of his life and the perfection of his genius- 
 
 We have feen , in the admirable fonnet on his 
 
 blindnefs , how his refle61ions on the confcientious 
 
 labor by which he loft his eyes' gave a dignified 
 
 fatisfaftion to his fpirit. In one of his profe 
 
 works he expreffes a fentiment on the fame fub- 
 
 jec^, that fliows, in the moft ftriking point of 
 
THE LIFE OF M 1 L T O N. iSg 
 
 view, the meeknefs and fublimity of his devotion. 
 He exults in his misfortune, and feels it endeared 
 to him by tlie perfnafion, that to be blind is to 
 be placed more immediately under the conduct 
 and providence of God ■•' : when regarded in this 
 manner, it could not fail to quicken and invigor- 
 ate his mental powers. Blindnefs, indeed, with- 
 out the aid of religious enthuhafm, has a na- 
 tural tendency to favor that undifturbed, intenfe, 
 and continual meditation, which works of mag- 
 nitude require. Perhaps we fometimes include 
 in the catalogue of difadvantages the very cir- 
 cumftances that have been partly inftrumental 
 in leading extraordinary men to diftindion. In 
 examining the lives of illuftrious fcholars we may 
 difcover, that many of them aroi'e to glory by 
 the impulfe of perfonal misfortune ; Bacon and 
 Pope were deformed • Homer and Milton were 
 blind. 
 
 * Sed neque ego cxcis affliftis moerentibus imbecillis tametii 
 vos id miferiim ducitis aggregari me difcriicior i quaiido quidem. 
 Cpcs eft, eo me propriiis ad mifericordiam fummi patris atque 
 tiUelam pertinere. lift quoddam per imbecillitatem praeeiinte 
 apoftolo ad maximas vires iter : fim ego debiliflimus ; diim- 
 modo in mea debilitate immortalis ille &. melior vigor eo fe 
 efficaciiis exeratj dummodo in meis tenebris divini vultiis hi- 
 men eo clariiis eliiccat, turn enim infirmillimiis ero fimul & 
 validiilimus csciis eodem tempore & perfpicaciiTimusj hac pof- 
 fim ego infirmitate confummari, hac perlici polTim in hac ob- 
 fcuritate fic ego irradiari. Et fane hand ultima Dei ciira csecj. 
 fiimus ; qui nos quo minus quicquam aliud praeter ipfujn cernere 
 valemus, eo clementius atque benignius refpicere dignatur. -^ 
 Profc Works, vel. 3. p. 376. 
 
140 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 It has been frequently remarked, that the blind 
 are generally cheerful j it is not therefore mar- 
 vellous that Milton was very far from being dif- 
 pirited by the utter extindion of his fight j but 
 his uncomjuerable vigor of mind was fignally 
 difplayed in continuing to labor under all the 
 pains and inconveniencies of approaching blind- 
 nefs, a flate peculiarly unfavorable to mental j 
 
 exertion. ' 
 
 I 
 
 From the very eloquent preface to his Defence 
 we learn, that while he was engaged on that 
 
 compofition , and eager to throw into it all the j 
 
 force of his exalted mind , " his infirmity obli- \ 
 
 *' ged him to work only by flarts , and fcarce { 
 
 *' to touch , in ihort periods of ftudy broken by i 
 
 *' hourly interruptions , what he wiflied to purfue ! 
 
 *' with continued application "■''. '* In this mofi: ! 
 
 uneafy and perilous labor he exerted his failing ': 
 
 eyes to the utmoit , and, to repeat his own trium- 'I 
 
 phant expreffion, ji 
 
 i 1 
 
 Loft them overply'd | 
 
 In liberty's defence. 'I 
 
 His left eye became utterly blind in i65i, the , 
 year in which the book that he alludes to was h 
 
 * Oiiod fi quis miretiir forte cur ergo tarn diu intaftum 8c j t 
 
 ovaiitem, noftroqiie omnium filentio infiatum volitare pafli fumus j ; 
 
 de aliis fane nefcio , de me audafter poffuni dicere , non mihi 1 
 
 verba aut argumenta quibus caufam tuerer tarn bonam diu ; ; 
 quaerenda aut inveftiganda fuiffe fi otium & valetudinem (qux 
 
THE LIFE or MILTOK. IJl 
 
 publiflied , and he loft the ufe of the other in 
 J 654 , the year in Xvhich he wrote concerning 
 his bhndnefs to his Athenian friend. In this in- 
 terval he repeatedly changed his abode. As 
 every fpot inhabited by fuch a man acquires a 
 fort of confecration in the fancy of his admirers, 
 I fhall here tranfcribe from his nephew the par- 
 ticular? of his refidence. 
 
 " Firft he lodged at one Thomfon's , next 
 " door to the Bull Head tavern at Charing 
 " Crofs , opening into the Spring Garden, which 
 " feems 'to have been only a lodging taken till 
 " his defigned apartment in Scotland Yard was 
 *' prepared for him ; for hither he foon removed 
 *' from the aforefaid place , and here his third 
 '• child, a fon , was born, which, through the 
 '' ill-ufage or bad conftitution of an ill-chofen 
 *' nurfe , died an infant. From this apartment , 
 *' whether he thought it not healthy or other- 
 *' wife convenient for his ufe, or' whatever elfe 
 " ^vas the reafon , he foon after took a pretty 
 " garden-houfe in Petty France , in Weftminfter, 
 *' next door to the Lord Scudamore's , and 
 " opening into St. James's Park, where he re- 
 ** mained nalefs than eight years, namely, from 
 " the year i652 till within a few weeks of King 
 " Charles the Second's reftoration. " 
 
 quidem fcribendi laborem ferre poflit ) naftus eflera. Oua cum 
 ailhuc etiam tenui admodum utar carptim hxc cogor & intercifis 
 pcne fingulis horis vix attingere, qus contiueati ftylo atquc 
 ftudio perfequi debniffera.— Profe Works , vol. z. p. 178. 
 
142 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Philips alfo informs us, that while his uncle 
 lodged at Thomfon's he was employed in revifmg 
 and polilhing the Latin work of his youngeft 
 nephew John , who , on the publication of a 
 fevere attack upon Milton , afcnbed to Bram- 
 hall , Billiop of Derry , vindicated his ilhiflrious 
 relation , and fatirized his fuppofed adverfary with 
 a keennefs and vehemence of invecytive , which 
 induced ^ perhaps , fome readers to fufpeci that 
 the performance was written entirely by Milton. 
 The traces , however , of a young hand are evi- 
 dent in the work ; and John Pliilips , at the time 
 it appeared, i652 , was a youth of nineteen or 
 twenty , eager ( as he declares ) to engage un- 
 folicited in a compofition , which , however 
 abounding in juvenile defe^is, proves him attach- 
 ed to his country, and grateful to his friends. 
 
 In 1654, Milton,' now utterly blind, appeared 
 again in the held of controverfy, firft, in his 
 Second Defence of the Enghlli People, and the 
 following year in a defence of himfelf , " Atitoris 
 " pro fe defenfio. " The firfl of thefe productions 
 is in truth his own vindication ; it is the work 
 in wliich he fpeaks mofl: abundantly of his own 
 characler and conducSi; it difplays that true elo- 
 quence Qf the heart, by which probity and ta- 
 lents are enabled to defeat the malevolence of 
 an infolent accufer; it proves that the mind of 
 this wonderful man united to the poetic imagin- 
 ation of Homer the argumentative energy of 
 Demofthenes. 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 143 
 
 It mufl however be allowed , that while Mil- 
 ton defended himfelf with the fpirit of the Gre- 
 cian orator , in imitating the eloquent Athenian, 
 he promifcuoufly caught both his merits and de- 
 fe61s. It is to be regretted , that thefe mighty 
 mafters of rhetoric permitted fo large an alloy of 
 perfonal virulence to debafe the dignity of national 
 argument; yet as the great orators of an age 
 more humanized are apt, we fee, to be hurried 
 into the fame failing, we may conclude that it 
 is almoft infeparable from the weaknefs of nature, 
 and we muft not expert to find , though we 
 certainly fliould endeav6nr to introduce , the 
 ch-arity of the Gofpel in political contention. 
 
 If the utmoft acrimony of inveiRive could in 
 any cafe be jufiified, it might nfTuredly be fo by 
 the calumnies which hurried hotli Demofthenes 
 and Milton into thofe intemperate exprefhons , 
 which appear in their refpeclive vindications like 
 {peeks of a meaner mineral in a mafs of the 
 richefl; ore. The outrages that called forth the 
 vindidive thunders of the eloquent Athenian 
 are fufficiently known. The indignation of Mil- 
 ton was a\vakened by a Latin work, publiHied at 
 the Hague in i652, entitled, " Regii Sanguinis 
 *' Clamor ad Coelum ; " The Cry of Royal 
 Blood to Heaven. In this book all the bitrer 
 terms of abhorrence and reproach , with which 
 the malignity of paffion can difhonor learning, 
 were laviilied on the eloquent defender of the 
 EngliHi commonwealth. The fecret author of this 
 
144 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 fcurrility was Peter du Moulin, a proteflant di- 
 vine, and fon of a French author, whom the bio- 
 graphers of his own country defcribe as a fatirift 
 without tafte and a theologian \vithout temper. 
 Though du Moulin feems to have inherited the 
 acrimonious fpirit of his father, he had not the 
 courage to publifh himfelf what he had written 
 as the antagonift of Milton , but fent his papers 
 to Salmafius, who intrufted them to Alexander 
 More, a French proteftant of Scotch extra£lion, 
 and a divine, who agreed in his principles with 
 the author of the manufcript. 
 
 Moft unfortunately^ for his own future com- 
 fort, More publifiied, without a name, the work 
 of Du Moulin , with a dedication to Charles the 
 Second , under the Signature of Ulac , the Dutch 
 printer. He decorated the book with a portrait 
 of Charles , and applied at the fime time to 
 Milton the Virgilian delineation of Polypheme : 
 
 Monftrum horrendum informe ingens, cui lumen 
 ademptiim. 
 
 A monftrous bulk deform'd, depriv'd of fight. 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 Never was a fav3ge infult more completely aven- 
 ged ; for Milton , having difcovered that More 
 was unqueftionably the publiflier of the work , 
 confidered him as its author, which, according 
 
THE LIFE or MILTON. 145 
 
 to legal maxims he had a right to do, and in 
 return expofed , wifh fuch feverity of reproof, 
 the irregular and licentious life of his adverfary, 
 that, lofing, his popularity as a preacher, he 
 feems to have been overwhelmed with public 
 contempt. 
 
 There is a circumftance hitherto unnoticed in 
 this controverfy , that may be confidered a* a 
 proof of Milton's independent and inflexible fpirit. 
 More having heard accidentally, from an acquaint- 
 ance of the Englifli author, that he was pre- 
 ; paring to expofe him as the editor of the fcurrilous 
 work he had publiflied, contrived to make great 
 interefl in England , firft , to prevent the appear- 
 ance , and again , to foften the perfonal feverity 
 of Milton's Second Defence. The Dutch ambaf- 
 fador endeavoured to prevail on Cromwell to 
 fupprefs the work. When he found that this 
 was impolTible, he conveyed to Milton the let- 
 ters of More , containing a proteftation that he 
 was not the author of the invedive, which had 
 given fo much offence, the ambaflador at the 
 fame time made it is particular requeft to Mil- 
 ton , that , in anfwering the book , as far as it 
 related to the Englifii government, he would 
 abftain from all hoftility againft More. — Milton 
 replied , " that no unbecoming words fhould 
 " proceed from his pen ; " but his principles 
 would not allow him to fpare, at any private 
 interceflion , a public enemy of his country. 
 Thefe particulars are colle6led from the laft of 
 
146 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 our author's political treatifes in Latin, the de- 
 fence of himlelf, and they form, I trufl, a fa- 
 vorable introdudhon to a refutation , which it is 
 time to begin , of th6 fevereft and moft plaufible 
 charge, that tlie recent enemies of Milton have 
 urged againft him; i mean the charge of fervihty 
 and adulation, as the fycophant of an ufurper. 
 
 [ will Hate the charge in the words of his moll 
 bitter accufer, and without abridgment, that it 
 may appear in its full force. 
 
 " Cromwell (fays Johnfon) had now difmiffed 
 '' the parliament, by the authority of which he 
 " had deftroyed monarchy, and commenced mo- 
 " narch himfelf under the title of prote6lor , 
 " but with kingly , and more than kingly ,. 
 " power. — That his authority was la^vful never 
 " was pretended; he himfelf founded his right 
 " only in neceflity : but Milton, having now 
 " taited the honey of public employment, would 
 " not return to hunger and philofophy, but, 
 " continuing to exercife his office under a mani- 
 " fefl ufurpation , betrayed to his power that li- 
 " berty which he had defencied. Nothing can- 
 " be n^ore juft than that rebellion fliould end 
 " in flavery ; that he who had juflified the mur- 
 " der of the king for fome a£is, which to him 
 " feemed unlawful , iliould now fell his fervices 
 " and his ilatieries to a tyrant, of whom it was 
 " evident that he could do nothing lawful. " 
 
 Let us obferve, for the honor of Milton, that, 
 the paragraph , in which he is arraigned with fc 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. I47 
 
 much rancor, contains a political dogma, that, 
 if it were really trqe , might blaft the glory of 
 all the illuftrious chara6iers who are particularly 
 endeared to every Englilh heart. If nothing can 
 be more juft than that rebellion lliould end in 
 flavery, \vhy do we revere thofe anceftors, who 
 contended againft Icings? wliv do we notrefignthe 
 privileges that we owe to their repeated rebellion? 
 but the dogma is utterly unworthy of an Englifl? 
 moralift; for affuredly we have the fan6hon of 
 truth, reafon , and experience, in faying, that 
 rebellion is morally criminal or meritorious, ac- 
 cording to the provocation by which it is excited, 
 and the end it purfues. This do6lrine was fup- 
 ported even by a fervant of the imperious Eli- 
 zabeth. " Sir Thomas Smith" (fays Milton in 
 his tenure of Kings and Magiftrates ) " a pro- 
 " tellant and a ftatefman , in his Commonwealth 
 ■*' of England , putting the queflion , whether 
 " it be lawful to rife againfl a tyrant, anfwers, 
 *' that the vulgar judge of it according to the 
 " event, and the learned according to the'pur- 
 *' pofe of them that do it." Dr. Johnfon, though 
 one of tlte learned ^ here fhows not that candor 
 which the liberal ftatefman had defcribed as the 
 chara6ieriftic of their judgment. The biographer, 
 uttering himfelf political tenets of the moft fervile 
 complexion , accufes Milton of fervility ; and , in 
 his mode of ufing the words honey and hunger, 
 falls into a petulant meannefs of expreffion , that 
 too clearly difcovers how cordially he detefted 
 
148 THE LI TE OF MILTON, 
 
 him. But perhaps , this deteftation was the mere 
 effect of political prejudice, the common but 
 unchriftian abhorrence that a vehement royahft 
 thinks it virtue to harbour and to manifeft againft 
 a republican. We might indeed eafily believe 
 that Johnfon's rancor againft Milton was merely- 
 political, had he not appeared as the biographer 
 of another illuftrious republican ; but when we 
 find him reprefenting as honorable in Blake the 
 very principles and condu^ which he endeavours 
 to make infamous and contemptible in Milton , 
 can we fail to obferve, that he renders not the 
 famejuftice to the heart of the great republican 
 author which he had nobly rendered to the gal- 
 lant admiral of tiie republic. To Blake he ge- 
 neroufly affigns the praife of intrepidity, honefty, 
 contempt of wealth, and love of his country. 
 AfTuredly thefe virtues were as eminent in Mil- 
 ton — and however different their lines in life 
 may appear, the celebrated fpeech of Blake to 
 his feamen , " It is our bufinefs to hinder fo- 
 reigners from fooling us," by which he juftified 
 his continuance in his poft under Cromwell, is 
 fmgularly applicable to Milton, who, as a fer- 
 vant engaged by the ftate to condud in Latin its 
 foreign corfefpondence, might think himfelf as 
 ftrongly bound in duty and honor as thejuftly 
 applauded admiral, " to hinder his country 
 " from being fooled by foreigners. " " But Mil- 
 ton , " fays his uncandid biographer, " conti- 
 " nuing to exercife his office under a manifeft 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. I49 
 
 *' ufurpation , betrayed to his power that hberty 
 " which he had defended. " Was the ufurpation 
 more manifefl to Milton than to Blake ? Or is 
 it a deeper crime againfl: liberty to write the 
 Larin defpatches , than to fight the naval battles 
 of a nation under the control of an ufurper ? 
 Affuredly not : nor had either Blake or Milton 
 the leafl. intention of betraying that liberty, 
 which was equally the darling idol of their ele- 
 vated and congenial fpirits ; but in . finding the 
 learned and eloquent biographer of thefe two im- 
 mortal worthies fo friendly to the admiral, and 
 fo inimical to the author , have we not reafon to 
 lament and reprove fuch inconfiflent hoflility. 
 
 That the Latin fecretary of the nation deferved 
 not this bitternefs of cenfure for remaining in 
 his office may be thought fufficiently proved by 
 the example of Blake. — -If his condu^ in this 
 article required farther juftification , we might 
 recolle£l with the candid bifliop Newton, that 
 the blamelefs Sir Matthe\v Hale , the favorite 
 model of integrity , exercifed under Cromwell 
 the higher office of a judge ; but the heavieft 
 charge againft Milton is yet nnanfwered , the 
 charge of lavifliing the moft fervile adulation on 
 the ufurper. 
 
 In replying to this mofl: plaufible accufation , 
 let me be indulged in a few remarks , that may 
 vindicate the credit not only of a fingle poet 
 but of all Parnaflus. The poetical fraternity 
 have been often accufed of being ever ready to 
 
l50 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 flatter ; but the general charge Is in fome meafure 
 inconfiftent with a knowledge of human nature. 
 As poets, generally fj^eaking", have more fenfi- 
 "bility and lefs prudence than other men, we 
 ftould naturally expecfl to find them rather 
 diftinguiflied by abundance than by a want of 
 • fmcerity; when they are candidly judged , they 
 will generally be found fo; a poet indeed is as 
 apt to applaud a hero as a lover is to praife his 
 miftrefs , and both , according to the forcible and 
 true exprefTion of Shakfpeare, 
 
 *' Are of imagination all conipaift. " 
 
 Their defcriptions are more faithful to the acute- 
 iiefs of their own feelings than to the real qua- 
 lities of the obje^ls defcribed. Paradoxical as it 
 may found , they are often deficient in truth , in 
 proportion to the excefs of their fmcerity: the 
 charm or the merit they celebrate is partly the 
 phantom of their own fancy; but they believe 
 it real, while they praife it as a' reality; and as 
 long as their belief is hncere, it is unjufttoac- 
 cufe them of adulation. Milton himfelf gives us 
 an excellent touchftone for the trial of praife in 
 the following pafiage of his Areopagitica; " there 
 *' are three principal things , without which all 
 *' prailing is but courtfliip and flattery : firfl:, 
 " when that only is praifed , which is folidly 
 '•worth' praife; next, when greateft likelihoods 
 '* are brought that ftich things are truly and 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 1J1 
 
 *' really in thofe perfors to whom they are af- 
 " criloed; the otlier, ^\■hen he wlso praifes, by 
 *' fliewing that fnch liis a£iual perfiiafion is of 
 '' n-hom he writes , can demonflrate that he 
 " flatters not. " If we try Milton by this his 
 own equitable law; we mnft honorably aoquit 
 him of the illiberal charge that miglit almoft be 
 thought fufficiently refuted by its apparent incon- 
 fiftency with his elevated fpirit. 
 
 Though in the temperate judgment of pofte- 
 rity, Crom\vell appears only a bold bad man, 
 yet he dazzled and deceived his contemporaries 
 with fuch a ftrong and continued blaze of real 
 and vilionary fplendor, that almoft all the pow- 
 er and all the talents on earth feemed eager 
 to pay him unfolicited homage : but I mean not 
 to reft the vindication of Milton on the preva- 
 lence of example , which , however high and 
 dignified it might be , could never ferve as a 
 fan6lipn for the man , to whom the rare union 
 of fpotlefs integrity with confummate genius had 
 given an elevation of character that no rank and 
 no poAvers unfupported by probity could poffibly 
 beftow; though all the potentates and all the 
 literati of the world confpired to flatter the ufur- 
 per, we might expe<?t Milton to remain, like 
 his own faithful Abdiel , 
 
 Unfhaken , unfeduc'd , unterrified. 
 
l52 T K E LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Affuredly he was fo ; and in praifmg Cromwell 
 he praifed a perfonage, whofe matchlefs hypo- 
 crify alTumed before him a malk that the arch 
 apoftate of the poet could not wear in the pre- 
 fence of Abdiel , the mafk of affectionate zeal to- 
 wards man , and of devout attachment to God; 
 a mafk. that Davenant has defcribed with poeti- 
 cal felicity in the following couplet : 
 
 ^ Diffembled zeal , ambition's old difguife , 
 The vizard in which fools outface the wife. 
 
 It was more as a faint than as an hero that 
 Cromwell deluded the generous credulity of 
 Milton ; and , perhaps , the recolle6lion of his 
 having been thus deluded infpired the poet with 
 his admirable apology for Uriel deceived by 
 Satan. 
 
 For neither man nor angel can difcern 
 
 Hypocrify, the only evil that walks 
 
 Invifible , except to God alooe, 
 
 By his permifiTive will , thro' heav'n and earth : 
 
 And oft, tho' wifdom wake, fufpicion fleeps 
 
 At wifdoni's gate, and to fimplicity 
 
 Refigns her charge , while goodncfs thinks no ill 
 
 Where no ill feems. 
 
 That fublime religious enthufiafm , which wa» 
 the predominant charaCleriflic of the poet , 
 
 expofed 
 
■THE I. 1 r E OF MI L T ON. l53 
 
 pyipofed him particularly to be dnped by the 
 prime artifice of the political impofior, who wrs 
 indeed fo confrimmate in the an of deception , 
 that he occafionally deceived the prudent un- 
 lieated Ludlow and the penetrating mflexible 
 Bradlliaw ; nay , who carried liis habitual de- 
 ception to fuch a length , that he is fuppofed , 
 by ibme acute judges of human nature , to have 
 been ultimately the dupe of his own hypocriti- 
 cal fervor, and to have thought himfelf, what 
 lie induced many to think him, the fele6ted fer- 
 vant of God , exprefsly chofen to accomplifh 
 wonders, not only for the good of his nation, 
 but for the true interefl of Chriflendom. 
 
 Though Cromwell had affumed the title of Pro- 
 te6^or , when Milton in his fccond defence 
 fketched a maflerly portrait of him (as we have 
 feen he did of Bradfliaw in the fime produc- 
 tion ) yet the new potentate had not, at this 
 period, completely unveiled his domineering and 
 oppreffive chara(fter; on the contrary, he af- 
 fecSted , with the greateft art , fuch a tender con- 
 cern for the people J he reprefented himfelf, both 
 in his public and private proteftations , fo per- 
 fectly free from all ambitious defires , that many 
 perfons , who polTeffed not the noble unfuf- 
 peding fimplicity of Milton , believed the Pro- 
 rfc(^or fmcere in declaring, that he reluctantly 
 fubmitted to the cares of government, merely for 
 the fettlemeut and fecurity of the nation. With 
 a mind full of fervid admiration for his marvellous 
 
 12 
 
l54 T H i: LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 achievements , and generally difpofed to give 
 him credit for every upright intention, Milton 
 hailed him as the father of his coujitry, and 
 delineated his chara6ier : if there were fome par- 
 ticles of flattery in this panegyric, whicli, if we 
 adhere to our author's juft definition of flattery 
 we cannot allow, it was completely purified from 
 every cloud or fpeck of fervility by the m.oft 
 fplendid and fublime admonition that was ever 
 given to a man pofieffed of greit talents and 
 great power by a genuuie and daunrlefs friend, 
 to whom talents and power were only obje<9.s 
 of reverence, when under the real or fancied 
 direciion of piety and virtue. 
 
 " " Revere ( fays Milton to the Protector) the 
 great expecfation , the only hope , wliich our 
 
 * Rcverere tantam de te expeftationem , fpem patriae de te 
 iinicam; reverere vuitiis & viilnera tot foitium vironim, quoc- 
 quot, te duce, pro libertate tarn ftreuue decertarunt; manes 
 etiam eorum qui in ipfo certamine occiibuenint ; reverere exte- 
 varum quoque civitatmn exiftimationem de nobis atqiie fer- 
 inones, quantas res de libertate noftra tarn fortiter parta, de 
 iioftra republica tarn ^loriofe exorta fibi polliceanturi qua; fi tarn 
 cito qnafi aborta evanuerit, profefto nihil aque dedecorofiim 
 hiiic gciiti , atque pudendum fiicritj teipfum denique reverere, 
 Ht pro qua adipifcenda libertate tot aerumnas pertulifti, tot pe- 
 ricula adiifti , earn adeptus violatam per te, aut uUa in parte 
 imminutam aliis ne finas efle. Profefto tu ipfe liber fine nobis 
 •ffe non potes , fie entm natura eomparatum eft, ut qui aliorum 
 libertatem occupat, fuam ipfe primum omnium amittat ; feque 
 primum omnium intelligat ferviri; atque id quidem non injuria. 
 At vero, fi patronus ipfe libertatis, & quafi tutelaris deus, fi 
 
T H l: l 1 f li o r m i l t o n. ij:) 
 
 country now refts upon you — revere the fight 
 and the fufferings of fo many brave men, who, 
 under your guidance , have fought fo ftrenuoufly 
 for freedom — revere the credit we have gained 
 in foreign nations — reflecl on the great things 
 tliey promife themfelves from our hberty , fo 
 bravely acquired; from our republic, fo glorioufly 
 founded , which , Ihould it periili like an abor- 
 tion , muft expofe our country to the utmoft 
 contempt and diflionor. 
 
 is, quo nemo jiiftior, nemo fanftior eft habitus; nemo vir melior, 
 quam vindicavit ipfe , earn poftmodum invaleiit, id non ipfi 
 tantum fed univerfe virtutis ac pietads ratioui perniciofum ac 
 lethale prope modum fit necelTe eft : ipfa honeftas ipfa virtus 
 decoxilTe videbitur religionis aiigufta fides, exiftimatio perexigua 
 in pofterum erit, quo gravius generi humano vulnus , poft illud 
 primum , infligi nullum poterit. Onus longe graviifimura fuf- 
 cepifti, quod te penitus explorabit totum te atqiie intimum per- 
 fcrutabitur atque oftendet, quid tibi animi, quid virlum infit , 
 quid ponderis; vivatne in te vere ilia pietas, fides, juftitia, 
 animique moderatio , ob quas evedliim te prse cateris Dei nu- 
 mine ad banc fummam dignitatem credimus. Tres nationes 
 validiffimas coufilio regere, populos ab inftitutis pravis ad me- 
 liorem , quam antchac , frugem ac difciplinam velle perducerc , 
 remotiflimas in partes, follicitam mentem , cogitationes immit- 
 tere, vigilare, prsevidere, nullum laborem recufare, nulla vo- 
 luptatum blandimenta non fpernere, divitiarum atque potentis 
 oftentationem fugere , hsec funt ilia ardua, pra quibus bellum 
 Indus eft; hsec te ventilabunt atque excutient, hgec virum pof- 
 cunt divino fultum auxilio, divino pene cnlloquio monitum at- 
 que edodbum. Ous tu , & plura, fsepenumero quin tecum re- 
 putes atque animo revolvas, non dubito; uti & 'illud, quibiis 
 potlflimum queas modis & ilia maxima perficere & libertatem 
 falvam nobis reddere & au(^iorem. — Profs Works , vol. 2. 
 paj. 399. 
 
l56 T H E L I F E OF MILTON. 
 
 " Finally , revere yonrfelf; and having fought V 
 and fiiftained CA-ery !}arcH];ip and danger for the 
 acqnilition of tfiis liberty, let it not be violated -.; 
 by yonrfelf, or impaired by others, in the fmal- ■. 
 left degree. In trut;]! , it is impoiTible for you '. 
 to be free yonrfelf nnlefs we are fo; for it is the ;■ 
 ordinance of nature, that the \nnn \v]^o (irft in- ' 
 vades the liberty of others mnft firft lofe his 
 ov,'n, and fnfc feel himfeU a iiave. This indeed 
 is jull. But if t]}e very patron and tutelary an- 
 gel of liberty, if lie who is ge)ierally regarded 
 as pre-eminent in jnflice, in fan^lity, and vir- 
 tue; if he fiiould ultimately invade that liberty 
 which he afferted himR-]f, fuch invafion muft in- 
 deed be pernicious and fatal , not ondy to him- 
 felf, feut to the general intereft of piety and 
 virtue. Truth , probity, and religion .would 
 then lofe the eftimaiion and confidence of man- 
 kind, the worft of Ayoinuis, fnice the fall of our 
 iirft parents, thnt could bo infiic^ed on the hu-' 
 man race. You iiavc tahen upon you a ]:)nrdeii 
 of weight inexDrenible: it will put to tiie fevereft 
 perpetual teft the inmofi; qualities, virtues , and 
 powers of your heart and foul ; it will determine 
 whether there really cxifts in your character that 
 piety, faith, juilice , and moderation, for the 
 fake of which we believe you raifed above other?, 
 by the influence of God , to this fnpreme charge. 
 " To direct three moft powerful nations by 
 your counfel , to endeavour to reclaim tlie people ' 
 from their depraved inftitntions to better condud 
 
T H i; LIFE or MILTON. ij; 
 
 and difciplinc, to fend forth into remoteft regions 
 your anxious f[)irit and incedant thoughts, to 
 Avatch , to forefee , to flirink from no labor , to 
 fpurn every allurement ofpleafure, to avoid the 
 often ration of opulence and po\ver, thefe are the 
 arduous duties, in comparifon of which war itfelf 
 is mere fport, thefe will fearch and prove you; 
 tliey require , indeed , a man fuppojted by the 
 affiflance of heaven, and almofl admonifiied and 
 inftru^^ed by immediate intercourfe with God. 
 Thefe and more I doubt not but you diligently 
 revolve in your mind , and this in particular , by 
 what methods you may be mofi able to accom- 
 plifii tilings of highefl: moment , and fecurc to 
 us our liberty not only fafe but enlarged. " 
 
 If a private individual thus fptaking to a man 
 of unbounded influence, whom a powerful na- 
 tion had idolized and courted to alfume the reins 
 of government , can be called a flatterer , we 
 have only to wifh that ail the flatterers of eartldy 
 power may be of the fame complexion. The 
 admonition to the people, with which Milton 
 concludes his fecond defence, is by no means in- 
 ferior in dignity and fpirit to the advice he be- 
 ftov/ed on the prote(ilor. The great misfortime of 
 the monitor was, that the two parties , to whom 
 he addreffed his eloquent and patriotic exhorta- 
 tion , "were neither of them fo worthy of liis 
 counfel as he wiflied them to ])e, and ciidea- 
 voured to make them. For Cromwell, as his 
 fubfequent conducl fufficienily proved, was a 
 
l58 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 political impoftor with an arbitrary foul; and as to 
 the people, they were alternately the dilhonored 
 inflruments and vi61ims of licentioufnefs and fa- 
 naticifm. The protedor, his adherents, and his 
 enemies, to fpeak of them in general, were as 
 little able to reach the difmterefled purity of 
 Milton's principles , as they were to attain , and 
 even to eftimate , the fublimity of his poetical 
 genius. But Milton, who palhonately loved his 
 country , though he faw and lamented the va- 
 rious corruptions of his contemporaries, flill con- 
 tinued to hope ; with the native ardor of a fan- 
 guine fpirit , that the mafs of the Englifh people 
 would be enlightened and improved. His real 
 fentiments of Cromwell, I am perfuaded, were 
 thefe : he long regarded him as a perfon not 
 only poffeffed of wonderful influence and ability, 
 but difpofed to attempt, and likely to accom- 
 pliih , the pureft and nobleft purpofes of policy 
 and religion ; yet often thwarted and embarraf- 
 fed in his befl defigns, not only by the power 
 and machinations of the enemies with whom he 
 had to contend, but by the want of faith, mo- 
 rality, and fenfe in the motley multitude, whom 
 he endeavoured to guide and £;overn. As reli- 
 gious enthufiafm w-as the predominant charac- 
 teriftic of Milton, it. is mofl probable that his 
 lervld imagination beheld in Cromwell a perfon 
 deflincd by heaven to reduce , if not to annihi- 
 late, what he confidered as the moft enormous 
 grievance of earth , the prevalence of popery and 
 
THE LIFE or MILTON. 1 5g 
 
 fuperflition. The feveral humane and fpirited 
 letters which he wrote , in the name of Crom- 
 well , to redrefs the injuries of the perfecuted 
 protrftants , \vho fuffered in Piedmont , were 
 highly calculated to promote, in equal degrees, 
 his zeal for the purity of religion , and his at- 
 tachment to the prote^ior. 
 
 Yet great as the powers' of Cromwell were to 
 dazzle and delude , and willing as the liberal 
 mind of Milton was to give credit to others for 
 that pure public fpirit, which he poirefTed himfelf, 
 there is great reafon to apprehend, that his ve- 
 neration and cfteem for the prote^ior were en- 
 tirely deflroyed by the treacherous defpotifni of 
 his latter days. But however his opinion of 
 Oliver might change , he was far from betraying 
 liberty , according to Johnfon 's ungenerous accu- 
 fation , by continuing to exercife his office j on 
 the contrary , it ought to be efteemed a proof 
 of his fidelity to freedom , that he condefcended 
 to remain in an office , which he had received 
 from no individual, and in which he juftly con- 
 fidered himfelf as a fervant of the flate. From 
 one of his famihar letters, written in the year 
 preceding the death of Cromwell , it is evident 
 that he had no fecret intimacy or influence with 
 the protector ; and that , inftead of engaging in 
 ambitious machinations, he confined himfelf as 
 much as poffible to the privacy of domeftic life, 
 Finally, on a full and fair review of all the in- 
 tercourfe between Milton and Cromwell , there 
 
l5o THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 is not the fmalleft ground to iufpect, that Mil- 
 ton ever fpoke or a6ted as a fycophant or a flave; 
 he beflowed , indeed , the moil iiberal euloijy, 
 both in profe and rhyme, upon the prote61or ; 
 but at a period when it was the general opinion, 
 that the utmofl efforts of panegyric could hardly 
 equal the magnitude and the vaiiety of the fer- 
 vices rendered to his country by tlie acknowledged 
 hero and the fancied patriot ; a; a period when 
 the eulogift, who underftood the frailty of human 
 nature, and forefaw the temy.)tations of recent 
 power, might hope that praife fo magnificeut , 
 nnited to the noblefl advice, would prove to the 
 ardent fpirit of the prote6^or the heft prefer vat ive 
 againft the delirium of tyranny, Thefe generous 
 hopes were difippointed ; the defpotic proceedings 
 of Cromwell convinced his independent monitor, 
 that he deferved not the continued applaufe of a 
 free fpirit ; and though the achievements of the 
 prote<!vi:or were fo fafciniting, that poetical pane- 
 gyrics encircled even his grave, yet Milton prai- 
 fed him no more, but after his deceafe fondly 
 hailed the revival of parliamentary independence, 
 as a new dawning of God's provic'ence on the na- 
 tion. In contemplating thefe two extraordinary 
 men together, the real lover of truth and freedom 
 can hardly fail to obferve the ftriking contraft of 
 their characters ; one was an abfolute model of 
 falfe, and the other of true, grandeur. Mental 
 dignity and public virtue were in Cromwell fi£li- 
 tious and deluhve; in Milton they were genuine 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. l6l 
 
 and unchangeable j Cromwell iliows the formida- 
 ble wonders that courage and cunning can per- 
 i form , with the alTiftance of fortune; Milton, the 
 i wonders, of a faperior kind, that integrity and 
 I genius can accompiiHi, in defpite of adverfity 
 and affliction. 
 
 An earer folicitude to vindicate a mofl noble 
 mind from a very bafe and injurious imputation 
 has led me to anticipate fome public events. From 
 thefe obferv.uions on the native and incorruptible 
 independence of Milton's mind, let us return to 
 the incidents of his dom.eflic life. 
 
 Soon after his removal to his houfe in Weft- 
 minfter, his fourth child, Deborah, was born, 
 on the Qd of May, iG5q. The mother, accord- 
 ing to Philips , died in child-bed. The htuation 
 of Milton at this period w^as fuch as might have 
 deprelfed the mind of any ordinary man : at the 
 age of forty-four he was left a \vidower, with 
 three female orphans, the eldeft about fix years* 
 old , deformed in her perfon , and with an im- 
 pediment in her ipeech ; his own health was very 
 d'elicate ; and with eyes that were rapidly finking 
 into incurable blindnefs , he was deeply engaged 
 ijti a literary contefl of the highefl importance. 
 With \vhat fpirit and fuccefs he triumphed over 
 his political and perfonal enemies the reader is 
 already informed. When thefe, in 1654, were 
 all filenced and fubdued by the irrefifiible power 
 of his fuperior talents and probity, " he liad 
 
l62 THE LITE OF MILTON, 
 
 " leifure again (fays his nephew) for his own 
 " fludies and private defigns*. '.* 
 
 It feems to have been tlie habit of Milton to 
 devote as many hours in every day to intenfe 
 ftudy as the mental faculties could bear, and 
 to render fuch conftant exertion lefs oppredive to , 
 the mind, by giving variety to the obje6^s of its i 
 application, engaging in different works of mag- 
 nitude at the fame time, that he might occa- 
 fionally relieve and infpirit his thoughts by a 
 tranfition from one fpecies of compofition to ano- 
 ther. If we may rely on the information of Phi- 
 lips, he now began to employ himfelf in this 
 manner on three great works ; a voluminous La- 
 tin Didiortary, a hiftory of England, and an 
 Epic poem ; of the two lafl: I fliall fpeak again , 
 according to the order of their publication. The 
 firfl and leaft important, a work to which blind- 
 nefs was peculiarly unfavorable, vv^as never brought 
 to maturity, yet ferved to amufe this mofi: dili- 
 gent of authors, by a change of literary occupa- 
 tion, almoft to the clofe of iiis life. His collec- 
 tion of words amounted to three folios; but the 
 papers , after his deceafe , were fo difcompofed 
 and deficient (to ufethe exprelhon of his nephew) 
 that the work could not be made fit for the prefs. 
 They proved ferviceable, ho\vcver, to future com- 
 pilers , and were ufed by tliofe who publifhed the 
 Latin Dictionary at Cambridge , in i6g3. 
 
 Though he had no eyes to chufe a fecond wife, 
 Milton did not long continue a widower. Hft 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. l63 
 
 married Catherine , the daughter of Captain 
 Woodcock, a rigid fe^iarifl, fays Mr. Warton , 
 of Hackney. This lady appears to have been the 
 moft tender and amiable of the poet's three 
 wives , and fiie is the only one of the three Avhom 
 the miife of Milton has immortalized with an af- 
 fe61ionate memorial. Within the year of their 
 marriage flie gave birth to a daughter, and very 
 Toon followed her infant to the grave. " Her 
 hiifband" (fays Johnfon) " has honored her me- 
 " mory with a poor fonnet; " an expreffion of 
 contempt, which only proves that the rough 
 critic was unable to fympathize with the tender- 
 nefs that reigns in the pathetic poetry of Milton: 
 in the opening of this fonnet j 
 
 Methoiight I faw my late efpoufed faint 
 Brought to me, like Alceftis, from the grave, 
 "Whom Jove's great fon to her glad hulband gave, 
 
 Refcued from death by force , the' pale and faint: 
 
 and in the latter part of it. 
 
 Her face was veii'd , yet to my fancied fight 
 Love, fweetnefs , goodnefs, in her perfon Ihin'cl 
 
 So clear, as in no face with more delight, 
 But , as to embrace me fhe inclin'd 
 
 I wak'd , fhe fled , and day brought back my night. 
 
 Milton has equalled the mournful graces of Pe- 
 trarch and of Camoens, who have each of them 
 
iG^t THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 left a plaintive compofition on a fimilar idea. 
 The curious reader, who may wifli to compare 
 the three poets on this occafion , will find the 
 limilarity I Ipeak of in the yyth fonnet of Pe- 
 trarch, and the 7 ad of Cainoens. 
 
 The lofs of a wife fo beloved , and the fevere 
 inthralment of his country under the increaiing 
 defpotifm of Cromwell , muft have wounded 
 very deey^ly the tender and patriotic feelings of 
 Milton. His variety of affli6iion from thefe fonrces 
 might probably occafion his being filent, as an 
 author, for fome years. In i655 he is fuppofed 
 to have written a national manifefto in Latin , 
 to juftify the war againft Spain. From that 
 time, when his defence of iiimfelf alfo appeared, 
 we know not of his having been engaged in 
 any publication till the year 16^9 , excepting a 
 political manufcript of Sir Walter Raleigh , called 
 the Cabinet Council, which he printed in i638, 
 with a brief advertifement. What his fentiments 
 were concerning the lafl; years of Cromwell . and 
 the following diilra(^ed period, we have a llrik- 
 ing proof in one of his private letters , ^vritten 
 not long after the death of the protec^ior. In 
 reply to his foreign friend Oldenburg (he fiys) * 
 
 * Ab hiftoria noitrorum motiuim concinimntia, quod liortari 
 videris, longeabfiim; fuiit enim filjiitio di.;iiiores qiiam proeco- 
 nio : nee nobis qui motiium hiftoriam concinnare, fed qui motus 
 ipfos componcre feliciter poiHt eft opus; tecum enim vcreor ne 
 libertatis ac rcligionis hoftibus nunc n.iiper focictatis, iiimis 
 ojiportuni inter has noftras civiles difcordias vel potiiis infanias » 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. lG5 
 
 " I am very far from preparing a hiftory of our 
 comnictions, as you kem to aclvife . for they 
 are more wortJiy of filence than of panegyric; 
 nor do we want a perfon with ability to frame 
 a hiflory of our trouble!? , but to give thofe 
 troubles a happy termination 5 for I fympathize 
 witli you in the fear, that the enemies of our 
 liberty and our religion; who are recently com- 
 bined , may find us too much expofed to their 
 attack in thefe our civil diflenfions, or rather our 
 fits of frenzy; they cannot, however, wound our 
 religion more than we have done ourfelves by 
 our own enormities. " The intereft of religion ap- 
 pears on every occafion to hav^e maintained its 
 due afcendency in the mind of Milton , and to 
 have formed, through the whole courfe of his 
 life, the primary objecl of his purfuit; it led 
 him to publill), in i65g, two diftind treatifes, the 
 firfl on civil power in ecclefiaflical caufes; the fe- 
 cond, on the likeliefl means to remove hirelings 
 out of the church ; performances which Johnfon 
 prefumes to characterize by an exprefTion not very 
 confonant to the fpirit of Chrifliauity, reprefenting 
 them as written merely to gratify the author's 
 malevolence to the clergy; a coarfe reproach , 
 which every bigot beflows upon enlightened fo- 
 licilude for the purity of religion, and particularly 
 
 Vidcaimir; verum non illi gravius qiiam nofmetipfi jamdiii flri- 
 gidis noftris religioni vultus intulerint. — Profe Works ^ 
 vol. a. p. 585. 
 
1 6& THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 uncamlid in the prefent cafe, becaufe the ^evont 
 author has confcientioufly explained liis own mo- 
 tives in the following exprefiions, addreffed to 
 the long parliament reftored after the deceafe of 
 Cromwell. 
 
 " Of civil liberty I have written heretofore by 
 the appointment , and not without the appro- 
 bation , of civil power J of Chriftian liberty I 
 write now, which others long fnice having don« 
 with all freedom under heathen emperors, I Ihould 
 do wrong to fufpe6^ that I now fliall with lefs un- 
 der Chrifliau governors, and fuoh epecially as 
 profefs openly their defence of Chriftian liberty ; 
 although I write this not otherways appointed or 
 induced than by an inward perfuafion of the 
 Chriftian duty, which I may ufefuUy difcharge 
 herein, to the common Lord and Mafter of us 
 all , and the certain hope of his approbation , 
 hrft and chiefeft to be fought." Milton was not 
 a being of that common and reptile clafs , who 
 aflu,me an affe^ied devotion as the mafk of mahg- 
 iiity. In addreffing his fecond treatife alfo to the 
 Parliament, he defcribes himfelf as a man under 
 the prote(^ion of the legiflative aflembly , who 
 had ufed, during eighteen years, on all occa- 
 fions to aifert the juft rights and freedom both 
 of church and ftate. 
 
 Had be been confcious of any bafe ferviHty to 
 Cromwell, he would certainly have abftained from 
 this manly affertion of his own patriotic integrity, 
 which , in that cafe , would have been only 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 167 
 
 ridiculous and contemptible. His opinions might 
 be erroneous , and his ardent mind over heated ; 
 but no man ever maintained, with more fleadi- 
 riefs and refolution, the native dignity of an ele- 
 vated fpirit, no man more fedulouily endeavoured 
 to difcharge his duty both to earth and heaven. 
 In February 1659, he publiflied The ready 
 and eafy Way to efiablilh a Free Commonwealth, 
 a ^vork not approved even by republican writers: 
 I will only make one oblervation upon it : the 
 motto to this performance feems to difplay the 
 juft opinion that Milton entertained concerning 
 the tyranny of Cromwell : 
 
 & nos, 
 
 Confilium Syllse dedimus, demus populo nunc. 
 
 — e'en we have given 
 Counfel to Sylla — to the people now; 
 
 a very happy allufion to the noble but neglected 
 advice which he beftowed on the Prote(Sior. 
 
 Amidft the various political diflra6hons to- 
 wards the end of the year i65g, he addrefled a 
 letter to a namelefs friend , who had converfed 
 with him the preceding evening on the danger- 
 ous ruptures of the commonwealth. This letter 
 and a brief paper, containing a fketch of a com- 
 monwealth , addrefled to general Monk , were , 
 fooQ after the author's death communicated by 
 
l6S T H E L I F E O F M I L T O N. 
 
 his nephew to Toland, who imparted them to 
 the public. 
 
 Milton gave yet another proof of his unwea- 
 ried attention to public affairs, by publilhing brief 
 notes on a fermon preached by Dr. Griffith , at 
 Mercer's Chapel, March Q5th , 1660, " wherein 
 (lays the annotator) "many notorious wyeflings 
 '' of fcripture, and other faliitics, are obferved." 
 
 When the repeated proteftations of Monk to 
 fupport the republic had ended in his introduc- 
 tion of the king, the anxious friends of Milton? 
 Avho thought the literary champion of the par- 
 hament might be expofed to revenge from the 
 triumphant royalifts, hurried him into conceal- 
 ment. The folicitude of thofe who v/atched over 
 his fafety was fo great, that, it is faid , they de- 
 ceived his enemies by a report of his death, and 
 effe^iually prevented a fearch for his perfon (dur- 
 ing the firfl: tumultuary and vindiclive rage of 
 the royalifts) by a pretended funeral. A fe\v weeks 
 before the refloration ( probably in April ) he 
 quitted his houfe in Weftminfier, and did not 
 appear in public again till after the a6i of ob- 
 livion , which paiTed on the 29th of Auguft. In 
 this important interval fome events occurred, 
 which greatly affected both his fecmity and repu- 
 tation. The Houfe of Commons, on the lOth of 
 June, manifefled their refentment againft his per- 
 fon as well as his writings , by ordering the at- 
 torney general to commence a profecution againft 
 him, and petitioning the king, that his two 
 
 books f 
 
THE LIFE or MIL T O N. 169 
 
 books, the Defence of the People, and his An- 
 fwer to Eikon Bafilike , might be pubh'cly burnt. 
 Plappily for the honor of tngland , the per- 
 fon of the rjreat author was more fortunate than. 
 his writings in efcaping from the fury of peifecu- 
 tion. Within three days after the burning of his 
 books, he found himfelf relieved from the ne- 
 ceflity of concealm/;nt , and iheltered under the 
 common protection of the law by the general 
 aft of indemnity , which had not included his 
 nam.e in the lift of exceptions. It has been 
 thought wonderful by many, that a writer, whofe 
 celebrated compofitions had rendered him an ob- 
 ject of abhorrence to the royal party, could elude 
 the aftivity of their triumphant revenge, and va- 
 rious conjectures have been ftarted to account 
 for the fafety of Milton , after his enemiies had 
 too plainly difcovered an inclination to crufli him. 
 One of thefe conjeftural caufes of his efcape repre- 
 fents two contemporary poets in fo amiable a 
 light , that though I am unable to confirm the 
 anecdote entirely by any ne^v evidence, I fhall 
 yet dwell upon it with pleafure. Richardfon , 
 whofe affeftionate" veneration for the genius and 
 virtue he celebrates makes ample amends for all 
 the quaintnefs of his ftyle , has the following paf- 
 fage on the fubjeft in queftion : 
 
 " Perplexed and inquilitive as I was, I at 
 ** length found the fecret , which he from whom. 
 " I had it thought he had communicsnted to me 
 ** long ago , and wondered he had not. I will no 
 
 i3 
 
a yo THE LIFE OF M I L T O K. 
 
 " longer keep you in expectation : — 'twas Sir 
 *' William Davenant obtained his remiffion , in 
 " return for his own life procured by Milton's 
 *' intereft, when himfelf was under condemna- 
 *' tion , anno i63o — a life was owing to Milton 
 *' (Davcnant's) and 'twas paid nobly; Milton's for 
 *' Davenant's , at Davenant's interceffion. — - It 
 " will now be expelled I iliould declare what 
 *' authority I have for this flory; — myfirlt anfwer 
 ** is, Mr. Pope told it me. Whence had he it? 
 " From Mr. Betterton — Sir W^illiani faw his 
 *' patron — Betterton was prentice to a book- 
 *' feller, John Holden , the fame -who printed 
 *' Davenant's Gondibert. There Sir William faw 
 *' him , and , perfuading his mafter to part with 
 *' him , brought him firlt on the llage. Betterton 
 " then maybe well allowed to know this tranf- 
 *' a6lion from the fountain head. " 
 
 On this interefting anecdote Johnfon makes 
 the following remark : " Here is a reciprocation 
 " of generofity and gratitude fo pleafmg, that the 
 " tale makes its own ^vay to credit, but if help 
 *' ^vere wanted I know not \vhere to find it j 
 *' the danger of Davenant is cettain from his own 
 *' relation, but of his efcape there is no account." 
 . This paflage of the critical biographer affordg 
 a fmgular proof, that he is fometimes as inac- 
 curate in narration as he is defeCiive in fentiment. 
 Imprefled as I am with the cleareft convidlion of 
 his repeated endeavours to depreciate the characfter 
 of Milton , I will not fuppofe that Johnfon could 
 dehgnedly fupprefs an evidence of the poet's 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 17I 
 
 ft 
 
 generofity, which, while he is fpeaking of it in 
 terms of admiration , he ftill endeavours to render 
 problematical ; yet certain it is, that of Milton's 
 protection of Davenant a very obvious evidence 
 exifts in Antony Wood, who fays, under the 
 article Davenant , " he was carried prifoner to 
 " the Ifle of Wight, anno i6!»o, and afterv/ards 
 " to the To^ver of London , in order to be tried 
 " for his life in the High Court of Juflice, anno 
 " i63i ; but upon the mediation of John Mil- 
 *' ton, and others, efpecially two godly alder- 
 '* men of York (to whom he had fliown great 
 '* civility when they had been taken prifoners in 
 *' the north by fome of the forces inider Wil- 
 *' liam Marquis of Newcaftle) he was faved , and 
 *' had liberty allowed him as a prifoner at large. " 
 Thus far the pleafnig flory is fufficientiy proved 
 to the honor of Milton. That Davenant endea- 
 Voured to return the favor is highly probable, 
 from the amiable tenderhefs and benevolent acti- 
 vity of his character* Perhaps this probability 
 tnay feem a little ftrengthened by the follow- 
 ing verfes of Davenant, in a poem addrefied to 
 , the king on his happy return : 
 
 Your clemency has taught us to believe 
 It wife as well as virtuous to forgive ; 
 And now the moft offended Ihall proceed 
 In great forgiving, till rid laws we heed ; 
 For laws flow prbgrelTes would quickly end 
 Gould^we forgive as fail as men offend; 
 
 [ 
 
1T2. THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 !f Davenant v:d,% in any degree inftrumental 
 to the fecurity of Milton, it is probable that he 
 ferved hiin ratlier from gratitude than afie^lion, 
 as no two writers of the time were more different 
 from each otiier in their religious and pohtical 
 opinions. That the poet-laureat of Charles was 
 utterly unconfcious of thofe ineftimable poetic 
 poVv-ers 5 Avhich the blind fecretary of the republic 
 M-as providentially referved to difplay , we may 
 infer from a very remarkable couplet, towards 
 the clofe of a fecond poem , addref[ed by Da- 
 venant to the King, where, fpeaking of Homer, 
 he ventures to alTert that 
 
 Heav'n ne'er made but one, who, being blind 
 Was fit to be a painter of the mind. 
 
 It is however very poffible that Davenant might 
 doubly conduce to the produ6iion of Paradife' 
 LofI: ; firfl , as one of thofe who exerted their 
 influence to fecure the author from moleftation ; 
 and fecondly , as affording by his Gondibert an 
 incentive to the genius of Milton to lliow how 
 
 o 
 
 inhnitely he could furpafs a poem which Hobbs 
 (whofe opinions he defpifed) had extravagantly 
 extolled as the moft exquiiite production of the 
 epic rnufe. In Aubrey's manuicript anecdotes of 
 Milton it is faid , that he began his Paradife Loft 
 about two years before the return of the king, 
 and fmiflied it about three years after that event; 
 the account appears the more probable, as the 
 
THE LIFE or MILTON. 1/3 
 
 folloAviiig lines in the commencement of the fe- 
 venth book pathetically allude to his prefent 
 fituatlon : 
 
 More faTe I fing with mortal voice unchang'd 
 To hoarfe or mute , though fall'n on evil days , 
 On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues, 
 In darknefs and with dangers compafVd round. 
 And foiitude; yet not alone, while thou 
 Yific'ft my {lumbers nightly, or when morn 
 Purples the eaft : ftill govern thou my fong, 
 Urania, and fit audience find, though few. 
 But drive far off the barbarous difTonance 
 Of Bacchus and his revellers , the race 
 Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard 
 In Rhodope, where rocks and woods had ears 
 To rapture, till the favage clamor drown'd 
 Both harp and voice; nor could the Mufe defend 
 Her fon. So fail not thou, who thee implores: 
 For thou art heav'nly, Ihe an empty dream. 
 
 How peculiarly affecling are thefe beautiful 
 verfes, when the hiftory of the poet fuggells that 
 he probably wrote them while he was concealed 
 in an obfcure corner of the city, that refounded . 
 with the triumphant roar of his intoxicated 
 enemies , among whom drunkennefs arofe to 
 fuch extravagance, that e\ren the feftive royalifts 
 found it necellary to iiTue a proclamation , -which 
 forbade the drinking of healths. How poignant 
 at this time mufl have been the perfonal and 
 
T74 THE 1 1 r r or m i l t o n. 
 
 patriotic feelings of Milton , Avho had paffed bis 
 
 life in animating himfelf and his country to habits 
 
 of temperance, truth, and public virtue, yet had 
 
 the mortification of finding that country, fo dear 
 
 to him , now doubly difgraced ; firft , by the hy- 
 
 pocrify and treacherous ambition of republicans, 
 
 to whofe pretended virtues he had given too eafy 
 
 credit; andnoAV, by the mean licentious fervility 
 
 of royalifls, whofe more open though not more 
 
 dangero.us vices his upright and high-toned fpirit 
 
 had ever held in abhorrence. For his country 
 
 he had every thing to apprehend from the blind 
 
 infatuation with which the parliament had re- 
 
 jefled the patriotic fuggeftion of Hale (afterwards 
 
 the illuftrious chief jultice) to eflablifli conftitu- 
 
 tional limitations to the power of the king at the 
 
 critical period of his reception. The negleci of 
 
 this meafure contributed not a little to fubfequent 
 
 evils, and the reign of Charles the Second was 
 
 in truth deformed with all the public mifery and 
 
 difgrace \vhich Milton had predidied, when he 
 
 argued on the idea of his re-admiifion. For his 
 
 own perfon , the literary champion of the people 
 
 had no lels to dread from the barbarity of pubHc 
 
 vengeance , or from the private dagger of fome 
 
 overiieated royalifl, ^vho , like the affalfms of 
 
 Doriflaus in Holland, and of Afcham in Spain, 
 
 might think it pieritorious to feize any opportunity 
 
 of deftroying a fervant of the Engliili republic. 
 
 When royal government, reflored to itfelf, could 
 
 yet defcend to authorize a mean and execrable 
 
THE LIFE OP MILTON. J 7 J 
 
 indignity againft the dead body of a man fo mag- 
 nanimous and fo innocent as Blake, it was fiirely 
 natural , and by no means unbecoming the fpirit 
 of Milton , to fpeak as he does , in the preceding 
 verfes, of evil days and evil tongues, of darknefs 
 and of danger. 
 
 " This darknefs (fays Johnfon) had his eyes 
 " been better employed, had undoubtedly defer- 
 " ved compaiTion. " What ! had Milton, no title 
 to compafTion for his perfonal calamity, becaufe 
 he had nobly facrificed his fight to what he ef- 
 teemed an important difcharge of his public duty? 
 -7-Oh egregious morality ! to which no feeling , 
 heart can fubfcribe. No, fay his implacable ene- 
 mies , he loft his eyes in the vindication of wic- 
 kednefs : but admitting their affertion in its full 
 force, juftice and humanity ftill contend, that, 
 inftead of diminifhing, it rather doubles his claim 
 to compafhonj to fuffer in a fpirited defence of 
 guilt , that we miftake and efteem as virtue , is 
 perhaps, of all pitiable misfortunes, what a candid 
 and confiderate mind jQiould be moft willing to 
 pity- 
 But Johnfon proceeds to fay. " of evil tongues 
 " for Milton to complain required impudence 
 '* at leaft equal to his other powers; Miitoii 
 " whofe ^varmeft advocates muft allow, that he 
 " never fpared any afperity of reproach or bru- 
 *' tality of infolence. " 
 
 Thefe are , perhaps , the moft bitter words 
 that wQTe ever applied by <in author , illuftrious 
 
176 THE LITE OF MILTON. 
 
 himfelf for grent talents, and flill more for chrif- 
 tian virtue, to a charaiier pre-eminent in genius 
 and in piety. By fliowing to what a marvelloua 
 degree a very cultivated and devout mind may 
 be exafperared by party rage , may they ferve to 
 caution every fervid fpirit againft that outrageous 
 animofity, which a difference of fentiment in po- 
 litics and religion is fo apt to produce. It would 
 feem. almoft an affront to the memory of Milton 
 to vindicate him elaborately from a charge , whofe 
 very words exhibit fo palpable a violation of de- 
 cency and truth. 
 
 His coldeft advocates, inflead of allowing that 
 he never Ipared any brutality of infolence , may 
 rather contend , that his native tendernefs of 
 heart , and very graceful education , rendered 
 it hardly poflible for him at any time to be info- 
 lent and brutal. It would have been wonderful 
 indeed , had he not written with fome degree of 
 afperity, when his antagonift Salmafius aflerted , 
 that he ought to fuffer an ignominious and ex- 
 cruciating death. Againft the unfortunate (but 
 not innocent) Charles the firft, he exprefsly de- 
 clares that he publiflied nothing till after liis de- 
 ceafe ; and that he meant not, as he fays in one 
 of his Latin works, to inililt the Manes of the 
 king, is indeed evident to an unprejudiced read- 
 er, from the following very beautiful and pa- 
 ■ thetic fentence , with which he begins his anfwer 
 to the Eikon Bafilike : 
 
THE LI 1 E O y M I L T O N. 177 
 
 " To defcant on the mistorLunes of a perfon 
 fallen from io high a dignity, who hath alfo paid 
 his final debt, both to nature and his faults , is 
 neither of itfelf a thing commendable, nor the 
 intention of this difcouife. " Thofe who fairly 
 confider the exalperated ftate of the contending 
 parties , when Milton wrote , and compare his 
 political compofitions with the favage ribaldry of 
 his opponents, however miliaken they may think 
 him in his ideas of government, will yet find 
 more reafon to admire his temper than to con- 
 demn his afperity. 
 
 If in a quiet ftudy, at a very advanced period 
 of life, and at the diftance of more than a cen- 
 ij tury from the days of the republic; if a philofo- 
 ; pher fo fituated could be hurried by political 
 heat to fpeak of Milton with fuch harfh intem- 
 perance of language , though writing under the 
 friendly title of his biographer , with what in- 
 dulgence ought we to view that afperity in Mil- 
 ton himfelf, which arofe from the immediate 
 preiTure of public oppreflion and of private out- 
 rage; for his fpirit had been enflamed, not only 
 by the fight of many national vexations , but by 
 feeing his own moral charafler attacked with 
 the moft indecent and execrable calumny that 
 can incite the indignation of infulted virtue, tf 
 the fafcinating powers of his facred poem , and 
 the luitre of his integrity, have failed to foften 
 the virulence of an aged moralift againft him in 
 our days, what mufthe not have liad to apprehend 
 
178 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 from the raging paflions of his own time . wheia 
 hi":; poetical genius had not appeared in its me- 
 ridian fplendor, and when moft of his writings 
 were confidered as recent crimes againft thofe , 
 who were entering on their career of triumph and 
 revenge? Johnfon , indeed, afferts in his barbar- 
 ous cenfure of Milton's exquifite pi6^ure of his 
 own htnation, that the poet, in fpeaking of his 
 danger, was ungrateful andunjuft; that the charge 
 itfelf feems to be falfe , for it would be hard to 
 recolle6^ any reproach caft upon him , either fe- 
 rious or ludicrous, through the whole remaining 
 part of his life; yet Lauder, once the affociate of 
 Johnfon in writing againfl Milton, exprefsly af- 
 firms, that it was warmly debated for three days, 
 ^vhether he Ihould fufFer death with the regidices 
 or not, as many contended that his guilt was fu- 
 perior to theirs. Lauder , indeed , mentions no * 
 authority for his alTertion ; and the word of a 
 man fo fupremely infamous would deferve no 
 notice , were not the circumftance rendered pro- 
 bable by the rancor and atrocity of party fpirit. 
 To what deteftable excefies this fpirit could pro- 
 ceed we have not only an example in Lauder 
 himfelf (of whofe malignity to the poet I Ihall 
 have fubfequent occalion to fpeak) but in that 
 colle6iion of virulent inve(ftives againft Milton,, 
 compofed chiefly by his contemporaries , which 
 LaiTder added as an appendix to his own moft 
 malignant pamphlet. The moft Angular and in^ 
 decent of thefe inveciives, whofe fcurrility is too 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 179 
 
 grofs to be tranfcribed, has been imputed to that 
 very copious writer, Sir Roger L'EftranQ;e ; and 
 if a pen employed lb favagely againft Milton 
 could obtain public encouraQ;ement and applaufe, 
 he might furely, without alfe61ation or timidity, 
 think himfelf expofed to the dagger of fome 
 equally hoflile and more fanguinary royalilt. 
 L'Eftrange , for fuch fufferings in the canfe of 
 royalty as really entitled him to reward , ob- 
 tained , not long after the reftoration , the revived 
 but unconftitutional office of licenfer to the prefs. 
 It was happy for literature that 'he poflefled 
 not that opprefTive jurifdicfion when the author 
 of the Paradife Loft was obliged to folicit an 
 
 o 
 
 imprimatur, fmce the excefs of his malevolence 
 to Milton might have then exerted itfelf in fuch 
 a manner as to entitle both the office and its pof- 
 felfor to the execration of the world. The licenfer 
 of that period , Thomas Tomkyns , chaplain to 
 archbifliop Sheldon , though hardly fo full of ran- 
 cor as LT.ftrange (if L'Eftrange was the real au- 
 thor of the ribaldry afcribed to him) was abfurd 
 or malignant enough to obftru61 , in fome mea^ 
 fure, the publication of Paradife Lolt. " He, 
 among other frivolous exceptions ( liiys Toland ) 
 would needs fupprefs the whole poem, for imar 
 ginary treafon in the following lines : 
 
 as when the fun new rifen 
 
 Looks thro' the horizontal mifly air 
 
 Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon 
 
 In dim eclipfe difuftrous twilight fheds. 
 
l8o TH E L r F E d :P M I L T O N. 
 
 On half the nations , and with fear of change 
 Perplexes tnonarchs — — " 
 
 By what means the poet was happily enabled 
 to triumph over the malevolence of an enemy 
 in office we are not informed by the aiUlior, 
 who has recorded this very interefting anecdote; 
 but from the peril to which his immortal work 
 was expofed, and which the mention of a Hcen- 
 fer to the prefs has led me to anticipate , let us 
 return to his perfonal danger: the extent of this 
 danger, and'the particulars of his efcape, have ne- 
 ver been completely difcovered. The account that 
 his nephew gives of him at this momentous pe- 
 riod is chiefly contained in the following fentence: 
 
 " It was a friend's houfe in Bartholomew 
 Clofe where he lived till tlie 3.£i of oblivion came 
 forth, which, it ple.Tfecl God, proved as favor- 
 able to him as could be hoped or expedled, 
 throu2:h the intercelTion of fome that flood his 
 friends both in council and parliament; particu- 
 larly in the Houfe of Commons, Mr. Andrew 
 Marvel, a member for Hull, afied vigoroufly in 
 his behalf, and made a confiderable party for him." 
 
 Marvel , like the fuperior author whom he fo 
 nobly protected, was himfelf a poet and a patriot. 
 He liad been affociated with Milton in the office ' 
 of Ladn fecretary in i6,')7 , and cultivated his 
 friendfhip by a tender and refpe^iful attachment. ■ 
 As he probably owed to that friendffiip the im- 
 provement of his own talents and virtues, it is 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. j8l 
 
 highly pleafing to find , that he exerted them on 
 differetit occaiions in eftabliiliing the fecurity, and 
 in celebrating the genius of his incomparable 
 friend. His efforts of regard on the prefent emer- 
 gency are liberally defcribed in the preceding 
 exprefTion of Philips ; and his friendly verfes on 
 the publication of the Paradife Loft deferve no 
 common applaufe ; for the records of literature 
 hardly exhibit a more juft, a more fpirited , or 
 a more generous compliment paid by one poet 
 to another. 
 
 But the friendfhip of Marvel, vigilant, a£ilve, 
 and beneficial as it was , could not fecure Milton 
 from beirig feized and hurried into confinement. 
 It appears from the minutes of the Houfe of Com- 
 mons , that he \vas prifoner to their ferjeant on 
 the i3th of December. The particulars of his 
 imprifonment are involved in darknefs ; but Dr. 
 Birch (whofe copious life of Milton is equally 
 full of intelligence and candor) conje^ures, with 
 great probability, that on his appearing in pub- 
 lic after the a61 of indemnity, and adjournment 
 of Parliament, on the i3th of September , he 
 was feized in confequence of the order formerly 
 given by the Commons for his profecution. 
 
 The exaft time of his continuing in cuftody 
 no refearches have afcertained. The records of 
 Parliament only prove, that on the i5th of De- 
 cember the Houfe ordered his releafe; but the 
 fame upright and undaunted fpirit, which had 
 made Milton in his younger days a refolute 
 
132 THE LITE Of MILTON. 
 
 oppofer of injnflice and oppreffioil, ftill continued 
 acharacteriltic of his declining life , and now in- 
 duced him^ difadiMntageonfly fituatecl as he was 
 for fuch a conteft, to relift the rapacity of the 
 parliamentary officer , who endeavoured to ex- 
 tort from him an exorbitant fee on his difcharge. 
 He remonflrated to the houfe on the iniquity of 
 their fervant ; and as the affair was referred to 
 the committee of privileges, lie probably ob- 
 tained the redrefs tJiat he had the courage to 
 demand. 
 
 In this fortunate efcape from the grafp of 
 triumphant and vindictive power , Milton may 
 be confidered as terminating his political life ; 
 commencing from his return to the continent, it 
 had extended to a period of twenty years 5 in 
 three of thefe he had been afflidled with partial 
 but increafing blindnefs, and in fix he had been 
 utterly blind. His exertions in this period of his 
 life had expofed him to infinite obloquy, but 
 his generous and enlightened .country , whatever 
 may be the ftate of her political opinions, will 
 remember with becoming equity and pride, that 
 the fublimeft of her poets , though deceived as he 
 certainly was by extraordinary pretenders to pub- 
 lic virtue, and fubje(Sl to great illulion in his 
 ideas of government , is entitled to the firft ol 
 encomiums , the praile of behig truly an honeft A 
 man : fince it was alfuredly his conflant aim tu 
 be the fteady dilinterefled adherent and encomiait J 
 of truth and jufliee ; hence we find him continually '\ 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. l83 
 
 difplaying tliofe internal blefTings , which have 
 been happily called , '' die clear witneffes of a 
 benign nature, " an innocent conicience, and a 
 fatisfied underftanding. 
 
 Such is the imperfection of human exiftence, 
 that miftaken notions and principles are perfedly 
 compatible with elevation , integrity , and fatis- 
 fa61ion of mind. The writer muft be a flave of 
 prejudice, or a fycophant to power, who would 
 reprefent Milton as deficient in any of thefe noble 
 endowments. Even Addifon feems to lofe his 
 rare Chriftian candor, and Hume his philofophi- 
 cal precifion , when thefe two celebrated though 
 very different authors fpeak harfhly of Milton's 
 political charader , without paying due acknow- 
 ledgment to the re61itude of his heart. I truft, 
 the probity of a very ardent but uncorrupted 
 enthufiaft is in fome meafure vindicated in the 
 courfe of thefe pages, happy if they promote the 
 completion of his own manly willi to be per- 
 fe611y known , if they imprefs a jufl; and candid 
 eftimate of his merits and miftakes on the tem- 
 perate mind of his country. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND PART* 
 
iS^ THE L I F E O F M I L T O K. 
 
 Part III. 
 
 E PER VECCHIEZZA IN LUI VIRTU NON MANCA.— 
 DZITTO EI TENEVA IN VERSO XL CIEL IL VOLTO. 
 
 TASSO- 
 
 I 
 
 N beginning to contemplate the latter years of 
 Milton, it may be ufeful to remark, that they 
 afford, perhaps, the mofl animating leffon, which 
 biography, inftrudive as it is, can fupply; they 
 fliow to what noble ufe a cultivated und reli- 
 gious mind may convert even declining life , 
 though embittered by a variety of affli(^ons , and 
 darkened by perfonal calamity. 
 
 On regaining his liberty, he took a houfe in 
 Holborn , near Red Lion Plelds , but foon re- 
 moved to Jewin-flreet , and there married, in 
 his 34th year, his third wife, Ehzabeth Miiilhall, 
 the daughter of a aentleman in Chefliire. As the 
 misfortune of blindnefs feems particularly to re- 
 quire a female companion , and yet almoll pre- 
 cludes the unhappy fufferer from fele6h'ng fuch 
 as might fuit him , Milton is faid to have for- 
 med this attachment on the recommendation of 
 
 his 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 15J 
 
 his friend Dr. Paget, an eminent phylician of 
 the city, to whom the lady was related. Some 
 biographers have fpoken harflily of her temper 
 and condu61; but let me obferve, in juflice to 
 her memory, that the manufcript of Aubrey, to 
 Vvhom Ihe was probably known ^ mentions her 
 as a gentle perfon , of a peaceful and agreeable 
 humor. That flie was particularly attentive to 
 her hufband, and treated his infirmities with ten- 
 dernefs , is candidly remarked by Mr. Warton j 
 in a pofthumous note to the teflamentary papers 
 relating to Milton ■, which his indefatigable re- 
 fearches at length difcovered j and committed to 
 the prefs, a few months before his own various 
 and valuable labors were terminated by death. 
 Thefe very curious and interelling papers afford 
 information refpeciing the latter days of th.e 
 poet, which his late biograpliers were fo far 
 from poffefTing , that they could not believe it 
 exifted. Indeed, Mr. Warton himfelf had con- 
 cluded , that all farther inquiries for the will 
 1 muft be fruitlefs , as he had failed in a tedious 
 i and intricate fearch. At laft, however, he was 
 I enabled , by the friendfliip of Sir William Scott. 
 1 to refcue from oblivion a curiofity fo precious 
 •| to poetical antiquarians. He found in the prero- 
 [j gative regifter the will of Milton, which, though 
 ij made by his brother Chriflopher, a lawyer by 
 I profefTion , was fet afide from a deficiency in 
 point of form — the litigation of this will pro- 
 duced a coUed^ion of evidence relating to the 
 
iSG THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 teflator, which renders the difcovery of thofe 
 long forgotten papers peculiarly interel\ing ; they 
 fhoAV very forcibly, and in new points of view, 
 his domeftic infelicity , and his amiable difpofi- 
 tion. The tender and fublime poet, whofe fen- 
 fibility and fufferings were fo great, appears to 
 have been almoll; as unfortunate in his daughters 
 as the Lear of Shakefpeare. A fervant declares 
 in evidence, that her deceafed matter, a little 
 before his laft marriage , had lamented to her 
 the ingratitude and cruelty of his children. He 
 complained , that they combined to defraud him 
 in the oeconomy of his houfe , and fold feveral of 
 his books in the bafeft manner. His feelings on 
 fuch an outrage , both as a parent and as a fcho- 
 lar, mufl have been fingularly painful; perhaps 
 they fuggefted to him thofe very pathetic lines , 
 where he feems to paint himfelf, in Samfon 
 Agoniftes : 
 
 I dark in light, expos'd 
 To daily fraud, contempt, abufe, and wrong, 
 Within doors or without; ftill as a fool, 
 In power of others , never in my own , 
 Scarce half I feem to live , dead more than half. 
 
 Unfortunate as he had proved in matrimony, 
 he was probably induced to venture once more 
 into that ftate by the bitter want of a domeftic 
 prote61or againft his inhuman daughters, under 
 which defcription I include only the two eldeftj 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 187 
 
 and in palliation even of their conducft, detefta- 
 ble as it appears, we may obferve, that they 
 are entitled to pity, as having been educated 
 without the ineftimable guidance of maternal 
 tendernefs, under a father afflided with lofs of 
 fight; they were alfo young : at the time of Mil- 
 ton's laft marriage his eldefl daughter had only 
 reached the age of fifteen , and Deborah , his 
 favorite, was ftill a child of nine years. 
 
 His new connexion feems to have afforded 
 him what he pardcularly fought; that degree of 
 domeftic tranquillity and comfort elTential to his 
 perfeverance in ftudy, which appears to have 
 been, through all the viciffitudes of fortune, 
 the prime obje6i of his life; and while all his 
 labors were under the dire^lion of religion or of 
 philanthropy, there was nothing too arduous or 
 too humble for his mind. In i65i he publillied 
 a little work , entitled , " Accidence commen- 
 ced Grammar, " benevolently calculated for the 
 relief of children, by fliortening their very tedious 
 and irkfome progrefs in learning the elements of 
 Latin. He publiflied alfo , in the fame year , 
 another brief compohtion of Sir Walter Ra- 
 leigh's , containing (like the former work of that 
 celebrated man , which the fame editor had given 
 to the public) a feries of political maxims; one 
 of thefe I am tempted to tranfcribe , by a per- 
 fuafion that Milton regarded it ^vith peculiar plea- 
 fure , from its tendency to juftify the parliamen- 
 tary contention with Charles the Firft. Had the 
 
15S THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 mifguided monarch obferved the maxim of Ra- 
 leigh, he would not, Uke that illuftrious viclim 
 to the vices of his royal father, have perilhed 
 on the fcaffold. — The maxim is the feventeenth 
 of the colle^lion, and gives the following inftruc- 
 tion to a prince for preferving an hereditary 
 kingdom. 
 
 *' To be moderate in his taxes and impofi- 
 tions, and, when need doth require to ufe the 
 fubjefts purfe , to do it by parhament, and with 
 their confent, making the caufe apparent to them, 
 and Ihowing his unwillingnefs in charging tliem. 
 Finally, fo to ufe it, that it may feem rather 
 an offer from his fubje6\s, than an exaction by 
 him. " 
 
 However vehement the enmity of various per- 
 fons againft Milton might have been, during the 
 tumult of paffions on the recent reftoration , 
 there is great reafon to believe, that his extra- 
 ordinary abilities and probity fo far triumphed 
 over the prejudices againit him, that, with all 
 his republican offences upon his head, he might 
 have been admitted to royal favor had he been 
 willing to accept it. Richardfon relates , on very 
 good authority, that the poft of Latin fecretary, 
 in which he had obtained fo much credit as a 
 fcholar, was again offered to him after the Ref- 
 toration j that he rejected it, and replied to his 
 wife, who advifed his acceptance of the appoint- 
 ment, " You, as other women, would ride in 
 your coach J for me, my aim is to live and die 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 1S9 
 
 ^n houcd man." Jobnfon difcovers an inclina- 
 tion to difcredit this ftory , becaufe it does honor 
 to Milton , and feemed inconfiftent with liis own 
 ideas of probability. " He that had Ihared au- 
 thority, either with the Parliaoient or Cromwell," 
 fays Johnfon, " might have forborne to talk very 
 loudly of his honefty. " How miferably narrow 
 is the prejudice, that cannot allow perfe61 honefty 
 to many individuals on both fides in a conteft 
 like that, which divided the nation in the civil 
 wars. Undoubtedly there were men in each party, 
 and men of great mental endowments, who adled, 
 during that calamitous contention, according to 
 the genuine dictates of confcience. Thofe who 
 examine the condud of Milton with impartiality 
 will be ready to allow, that he pofleffed not 
 only one of the moft cultivated, but one of the 
 moft upright minds, which the records of human 
 nature have taught us to revere. His retaining 
 his employment under Cromwell has , I truft , 
 been fo far juftified, that it can no more be re- 
 prefented as a blemiili on his integrity. His of- 
 fice, indeed, was of fuch a nature, that he might, 
 without a breach of honefty, have refumed it 
 under the king; but his return to it, though not 
 abfolutely diftionorable, would have ill accorded 
 with that refined purity and elevation of cha- 
 racter, which, from his earlieft youth, it was 
 the nobleft ambition of Milton to acquire and 
 fupport. He would have loft much of his title 
 to the reverence of mankind for his magnanimity. 
 
Tgo THE LIFE O V MILTON. 
 
 had ];e accepted his former office under Charles 
 the Second , whom he mufl have particularly 
 defpifed as a profligate and fervile tyrant, as ready 
 to betray the honor of the nation as he was 
 carelefs of his own ; a perfonage whom Milton 
 could never have beheld without horror , on re- 
 flecting on his fnigular barbarity to his celebrated 
 friend, that eccentric but interefling character, 
 Sir Henry Vane. The king, fo extolled for his 
 mercy, had granted the life of Sir Henry to the 
 joint petition of the Lords and Commons; but* 
 after promifing to preferve him , ligned a warrant 
 for his execution — one of the moft inhuman and 
 deteflable a6is of duplicity that was ever pradlifed 
 againfl a fubjedl: by his fovereign. It is to the 
 fate of Vane , with others of that party , and to 
 his own perfonal fufferings, that the great poet 
 alludes in the following admirable reflexions , 
 afligned to the chorus in his Samfon Agonifles: 
 
 Many are the fayings of the wife 
 
 In ancient and in modern books enroll'd, 
 
 Extolling patience as the trueft fortitude: 
 
 And to the bearing well of all calamities , 
 
 All chances incident to man's frail life, 
 
 Confolatories writ , 
 
 "With ftudied argument, and much perfuafion fought 
 
 Lenient of grief, and anxious thoughc : 
 
 But with th' afflided in his pangs their found 
 
 Little prevails , or rather feems a tune 
 
 Harlh, and of diflbnant mood from his complaint; 
 
THE LIFE or MILTOX. IQl 
 
 Unlefs he feel within 
 
 Some fource of confolation from above. 
 
 Secret refrefiiings that repair his ftrength. 
 
 And fainting fpirits uphold. 
 
 God of our fathers , what is man ! 
 
 That thou towards him with hand fo various. 
 
 Or might I fay contrarious, 
 
 Temper'ft thy Providence through his fhort courfCi 
 
 Not evenly, as thou rul'ft 
 
 The angelic orders and inferior creatures mute ^ 
 
 Irrational and brute. 
 
 Nor do 1 name of men the common rout , 
 
 That wandering loofe about , 
 
 Grow up and perifii , as the fummer fty, 
 
 Heads without name , no more remember'd ; 
 
 But fuch as thou haft folemnly eleded, 
 
 "With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd 
 
 To fome great work, thy glory. 
 
 And people's fafety , which in part thfy- effed : 
 
 Yet toward thefe, thus dignified, thou oft 
 
 Amidft their height of noon 
 
 Changeft thy countenance, and thy hand , -^ith. no 
 
 regard 
 Of higheft favors paft 
 From thee on them , or them to thee of fervice. 
 
 Nor only doft degrade them , or remit 
 To life obfcur'd , which were a fair difmifllon , 
 But throw'ft them lower than thou didft exalt them 
 
 high, 
 Unfeemly falls in human eye, 
 Too grievous for the trefpafs or omiflion^. 
 
192 THE LITE OP MILTON. 
 
 Oft leav'ft them to the hoftile fword 
 
 Of heathen and profane, their carcafes 
 
 To dogs and fowls a prey, or elfe captiv'd ; 
 
 Or to th' unjuft tribunals under change of times , 
 
 And condemnation of th' ungrateful multitude. 
 
 If thefe they fcape, perhaps in poverty, 
 
 With ficknefs and difeafe thou bow'fb them down , 
 
 Painful difeafes and deforrn'd , 
 
 In crude old age; 
 
 Though not difordinate, yet caufelefs fijff'rin§[ 
 
 The punifhment of difTolute days. ' 
 
 Warburton was the firft , I believe , to re* 
 mark how exactly thefe concluding lines defcribe 
 the fituation of the poet hirhfelf , afflided by his 
 lofs of property, and " his gout, not caufed by - i; 
 intemperance. '^ The fame acute but very une^ 
 qual critic is by no means fo happy in his ob^ 
 fervation , that Milton feems to have chofen the 
 fubjec^ of this fublime drama for the fake of the 
 fatire on bad wives; it would be hardly lefs ab-- 
 furd to fay, that he chofe the fubjed of Paradife 
 Loft for the fake of defcribing a connubial alter- 
 cation. The nephew of Milton has told us , that 
 he could not afeertain the time when this drama 
 was written; but it probably flowed from the 
 heart of the indignant poet foon after his fpirit 
 had been wounded by the calamitous deftiny of 
 his friends, to which he alludes with fo much 
 energy and pathos. He did not defign the drama 
 for a theatre, nor has it the kind of adion 
 
THE LIF EOT MILTON, 193 
 
 requlfite for theatrical intereft; but in one point 
 of vieAv the Samfon Agoniftes is the mofi: fin- 
 gularly afFe(^ing compofition , that was ever pro- 
 dueed by fenfibihty of heart and vigor of ima- 
 gination. To give it this peculiar effe61 , we muft 
 remember , that the lot of Milton had a mar- 
 vellous coincidence with that of his hero, in three 
 remarkable points; firft (but we fliould regard 
 this as the moft inconfiderable article of refem-^ 
 blance ) he had been torrrrented by a beautiful 
 but difaffedlionate and difobedient wife; fecondly, 
 he had been the great champion of his country, 
 and as fuch the idol of public admiration; laftly, 
 he had fallen from that height of unrivalled 
 glory , and had experience^ the moft humiliating 
 reverfe of fortune : 
 
 His foes' derifion , captive , poor , and blind. 
 
 In delineating the greater part of Samfon's 
 fenfations under calamity, he had only to def- 
 cribe his own. No dramatift can have ever con- 
 formed fo literally as Milton to the Horatian 
 precept. 
 
 Si vis me fterc , dotendum eft 
 Primum ipfi tibi. 
 
 And if, in reading the Samfon Agoniftes , we 
 obferve how many palfages, expreffed with the 
 moft energetic fenlibility , exhibit to our fmcy 
 
194 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 the fufFerings and real fentiments of the poet , as 
 well as thofe of his hero , we may derive from 
 this extraordinary compofition a kind of pathetic 
 delight , that no other drama can afford ; we may 
 applaud the felicity of genius , that contrived , in 
 this manner, to relieve a heart overburdened 
 with anguifb and indignation, and to pay a half 
 concealed yet hallowed tribute to the memories 
 of dear though difhonored friends, whom the 
 flate of the times allowed not the affli(?ied poet 
 more openly to deplore. 
 
 The concluding verfes of the beautiful chorus 
 (which I have already cited in part) appear to 
 me particularly affe61ing, from the perfuafion that 
 Milton , in compoiing them , addreffed the two 
 laft immediately to Heaven , as a ^prayer for 
 himfelf : 
 
 In fine, 
 Juft or unjuft alike feem miferable. 
 For oft alike both come to evil end. 
 
 So deal not with this once thy glorious champion, 
 The image of thy ftrength , and mighty minifter. 
 What do I beg? how haft thou dealt already? 
 Behold him in this ftate calamitous, and turn 
 His labors, for thou can'ft, to peaceful end. 
 
 If the conje£lure of this application be juft, 
 we may add , that never was the prevalence of 
 a righteous prayer more happily confpicuous ; and 
 let me here remark, that however various the 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON* ig5 
 
 opinions of men may be concerning the merits 
 or demerits of Milton's political chara£^er, the 
 integrity of his heart appears to have fecured to 
 him the favor of Providence, fmce it pleafed the 
 Giver of all good not only to turn hjs labors to 
 a peaceful end , but to irradiate his declining 
 life with the moft abundant portion of thofe pure 
 and fublime mental powers, for which he had 
 conflantly and fervently prayed, as the choiccft 
 bounty of Heaven. 
 
 At this period, his kind friend and phyfician , 
 who had proved fo ferviceableto him in the recom- 
 mendation of an attentive and afFe61ionate wife , 
 introduced to his notice a young reader of 
 Latin , in that fmgular chara<!^er , Thomas Ell- 
 wood, the quaker, who has written a minute 
 hiftory of his own life : a book, which fuggefls 
 the refle^iion , how ftrangely a writer may fome- 
 times miftake his way in his endeavours to engage 
 the attention of pofterity. Had the honefl quaker 
 bequeathed to the world as circumftantial an ac- 
 count of his great literary friend , as he has done 
 of himfelf , his book would certainly have engrof- 
 fed no common fliare of public regard : we are 
 indebted to him, however, for his incidental 
 mention of the great poet; and as there is a plea- 
 fmg air of fimplicity and truth in his narrative, 
 I fliall gratify the reader by inferting it with very 
 little abridgment : 
 
 '"• John Milton, a gentleman of great note 
 for learning throughout the learned world, having 
 
ig6 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 filled a public ftation in former times , lived now 
 a private and retired life in London ; and hav- 
 ing wholly \ol\ his fight, kept always a man to 
 read to him , which ufually was the fon of fome 
 gentleman of his acquaintance , whom in kindnefs 
 he took to improve in his learning. 
 
 " By the mediation of my friend, Ifaac Pe- 
 nington , with Dr. Paget , and of Dr. Paget with 
 John Milton , was I admitted to come to him , 
 not as a fervant to him , which at that time he 
 needed not, "nor to be in the houfe with him, 
 but only to have the liberty of eom.ing to his 
 houfe at certain hours, when I would, and to 
 read to him what books he fliould appoint me, 
 which was all the favor I defired." 
 
 EUwood was at this time an ingenuous but un- 
 difciplined young man, about three-and-twenty; 
 — his father, a juflice of Oxfordfliire, had taken 
 him, very unfeafonably, from fchool, with a 
 view to leffen his own expenfes , and this his 
 younger fon , after wafling fome years at home , 
 attached himfelf, with great fervency, to the fe(^ 
 of quakers. His religious ardor involved him in 
 along and painful quarrel >vith his father, and in 
 many fmgular adventures — he united with his 
 pious zeal a lively regard for literature; and being 
 grieved to find that his interrupted education 
 had permitted him to acquire but a flender 
 portion of clalFical learning, he anxioufly fought 
 the acquaintance of Milton , in the hope of im- 
 proving it. 
 
THE LIFE G F iM I L T O N, I97 
 
 " I went) therefore (fays the candid quakcr) 
 and rook myfelf a lodging near to his lioule , 
 which was then in Jewin-ftreet as conveniently as I 
 could J and from thence for\vard went every day 
 if the afternoon , except on the hrft days of the 
 week, and fitting by him in his dining-room, 
 read to him fuch books in the Latin tongue as 
 he pleafed to hear me read. 
 
 " At my firft fitting to read to him, obferving 
 that I ufed the Englifh pronunciation , he told 
 me, if i would have the benefit of the Latin 
 tongue, not only to read and underlland Latin 
 authors , but to converfe with foreigners , either 
 abroad or at home , I mufl learn the foreign pro- 
 nunciation ; to this I confenting , he inllru61ed 
 me how to found the vowels : this change of pro-^ 
 nunciation proved a new difficulty to me; but. 
 
 Labor omnia vincit 
 Improbus ; 
 
 And fo did I; Avhich made my reading the more 
 acceptable to my mafter. He, on the other hand, 
 perceiving with what earnelt defire I purfued 
 learning, gave me not only all the encourage- 
 ment , but all the help he could ; for having a 
 curious ear , he underflood by my tone when I 
 underftood what I read, and when I did not, 
 and accordingly would ftop me , examine me , 
 and open the mofl difficult paffages to me. " 
 
igS THE L I F E O F MILTON. 
 
 Tie clearnefs and fimplicity of Ellvvood's nar- 
 rative brings us, ae it were, into the company 
 of Milton, and fliows, in a very agreeable point 
 of view, the native courtefy and fweetnefs of a 
 temper, that has been ftrangely mifreprefented as 
 morofe and anftere. 
 
 Johnfon , with his accuflomed afperity to Mil- 
 ton , difcovers an inclination to cenfure him for 
 his mode of teaching Latin to EUwood ; but Mil- 
 ton , who was inflru£iing an indigent young man, 
 had probably very friendly reafons for wilhing 
 him to acquire immediately the foreign pronun- 
 ciation; and afliiredly the patience, good nature, 
 and fuccefs , with which he condefcended to teach 
 this fingular attendant, do credit both to the 
 difciple and the preceptor. 
 
 Dechning health foon interruptisd the ftudies 
 of Ellwood , and obliged him to retire to the 
 houfe of a friend and phyfician in the country. 
 Here, after great fuffering from ficknefs, he re- 
 vived, and returned again to London. 
 
 " I was very kindly received by my Mafter 
 (continues the interefting quaker) who had con- 
 ceived fo good an opinion of me, that my con- 
 verfation , I found , was acceptable, and he 
 feemed heartily glad of my recovery and return, 
 and into our old method of ftudy we fell again , 
 I reading to him , and he explaming to me , as 
 occafion required. " 
 
 But learning (as poor Ellwood obferves) was 
 almoft a forbidden fruit to him. His intercourfe 
 
THE LIF£ OF MILTON. I99 
 
 with Milton was again interrupted by a fecond 
 calamity; a party of foldiers ruflied into a meet- 
 ing of quakers , that included this unfortunate 
 fcholar, and he was hurried, with his friends, 
 from prifon to prifon. Though ten-pence was all 
 the money he poffeffed, his honefl pride pre- 
 vented his applying to Milton for relief in this 
 exigence, and he contrived to fupport himfelf by 
 his induftry, in confinement, with admirable 
 fortitude. 
 
 Moderate profperity , however, vifited at laft 
 this honeft and devout man , affording him an 
 agreeable opporttinity of being ufeful to the great 
 poet, who had deigned to be his preceptor. 
 
 An affluent quaker, who refided at Chalfont, 
 in Buckinghamlhire, fettled Ellwood in his fa- 
 mily, to inftru6\ his children, and in 1665, when 
 the peftilence raged in London, Milron requefted 
 his friendly difciple to find a refuge for him in. 
 his neighbourhood. 
 
 "• I took a pretty box for him , " fays this af- 
 fectionate friend, ''' in Giles Chalfont, a mile 
 from me , of which I gave him notice , and in- 
 tended to have waited on hirn, and feen him 
 well fettled in it, but was prevented by impri- 
 fonment. " 
 
 This was a fecond captivity that the unfortu- 
 nate young man had to fuflain j for in confe- 
 quence of a recent and moll iniquitous perfecu- 
 tion of the quakers, he was apprehended at the 
 funeral of a friend, and confined in the gaol of 
 Aylefbury. 
 
QOO THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 " But being now releafed ," continues Ellwood, 
 " I foon made a vifit to him , to welcome him 
 intc the country. 
 
 *'• After fome common difcourfes had pafTed 
 between us, he called for a manufcript of his, 
 which , being brought , he delivered to me , 
 bidding me take it home with me, and read it at 
 my leifure , and when I had fo done , return it 
 to him, with my judgment thereupon^ 
 
 " When I came home, and fet myfelfto read 
 it , I found it was that excellent poem , which 
 he entitled Paradife Loft. 
 
 " After I had, with the beft attention, read 
 it through, I made him another vifit, and re- 
 turned him his book , with due acknowledgment 
 of the favor he had done me in communicating 
 it to me. He afked me how I liked it, and 
 what 1 thought of it? which I modeftly and 
 freely told him ; and after fome farther diCcourfe 
 about it, I pleafantly faid to him, 'Thou haft 
 faid much here of Paradife Loft, but what haft 
 thou to fay of Paradife found. ' He made me no 
 anfwef , but fat fome time in a mufe j then brake 
 off that difcourfe, and fell upon another ilibje61. 
 
 " After the licknefs was over, and the city 
 well cleanfed , and become fafely habitable again, 
 he returned thither ; and when afterwards I went 
 to wait on him there (which I feldom failed of 
 doing, whenever my occalions led me to Lon- 
 don) he Ihovved me his fecond poem , called Pa- 
 radife Regain'd, and in a pleafant tone faid to 
 
 me. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 201 
 
 me, * This is owing to yon, for you put it into 
 my head by the queftion you put to me at 
 Chalfont. which before I had not thought of." 
 The perfonal regard of this ingenuous quaker 
 for Milton, and liis giving birth to a compofition 
 of fuch magnitude and merit as Paradife Regain'd, 
 entitle him to diftincftion in a hfe of his great 
 
 o 
 
 poetical friend , and I have therefore rather tranf- 
 cribed than abridged his relation. My reader, 
 I doubt not, will join with me in wiihing that 
 we had more fketches of the veneral)!e bard , 
 thus minutely delineated from the life, in the 
 colors of fidelity and affe^ion. 
 
 The lafi: of Milton's familiar letters in Latin 
 relates to this period ; it fpeaks with devotional 
 gratitude of the fafe afylum from the plague , 
 which he had found in the country ; it fpeaks 
 alfo with fo much feeling of his pafl political ad- 
 ventures , and of the prefent inconvenience which 
 he fuffered from the lofs of fight, that I appre- 
 hend an entire tranflation of it can hardly fail 
 of being acceptable to the Englifh reader. It is 
 dated from London, Auguft i5 , 1666, and ad- 
 drefled to Heimbach, an accomplilhed German, 
 who is fkyled counfellor to the elecftor of Bran- 
 denburgh. An expreffion in a former letter to 
 the fame correfpondent feems to intimate , that 
 this learned foreigner, who vifited England in 
 j his youth had rehded with Milton, perhaps in 
 'the chara<Sler of a difciple — But here is the in- 
 tereiling letter : 
 
 
 
202 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 * " If among fo many funerals of my conn- 
 trymen, in a year fo full of peftilence and for- 
 rovv, you were induced, as you fay, by rumor 
 to believe that I alfo was fnatched away, it is 
 
 * Ornattflimo Viro Petro Heimbachio, Eledoils Brandenbur- 
 
 gici Confiliario. 
 
 Si inter tot funera populariuin meonim, anno tarn gravi ac 
 peftilenti, abreptum me quoque, ut fcribis, ex rumore prxfer- 
 tim aliquo credidifti, mirum non eft, atqite ille rumor apud 
 veftros, lit videtur , homines, fi ex eo quod de fahite mea fuli- 
 citi eflent, increbuit, non difplicet; indicium enim fus erga me 
 bencvolentiae fuifTe exiftimo. Sed Dei benignitate, qui tutuni 
 inihi receptum in agris paraverat, & vivo adliuc & valeo; uti- 
 liam ne inutilis, quicquid muneris in hac vita reftat mihi pera- 
 gendum. Tibi vero tarn longo intervallo venifTc in mentem 
 mei, pergratum eft j quamquam prout rem verbis exornas, pra;- 
 bere aiiquem fufpioioncm videris, oblitum mei te potius efle, 
 qui tot virtutum diverfarum cunjugium in me, ut fcribis, ad- 
 mirere. Ego certe ex tot conjugiis numerofam nimis prolem 
 cxpavefcerem, nifi conftaret in re ardba, rebufque duris, vir- 
 tutes ali maximc & vigere : tametfi earum una non ita belle 
 charitatem hofpitii mihi reddidit : quam enim politicam tu vo- 
 cas , ego pietatem in patriam didam abs te mallem, came pul- 
 chro nomine delinitum prope, ut ita dicam , expatriavit. Reii- 
 quarum tamen chorus clare concinit. Patria eft, ubicunque eft 
 bene. Finem faciam , li hoc prius abs te impctravero, ut, fi 
 quid mendofe defcriptum aut non interpundlum repereris, id 
 puero, qui hsec excepit, Latine prorfus nefcienti vclis impu- 
 tare; cui fingulas plane literulas annumerare non fine miferia 
 diftans cogebar. Tua interim viri merita, quern ego adolefcen- . 
 tern fpei eximice cognovi , ad tam honeftum in principis gratia 
 provexiffe te locum, gaudeo, csteraque faufta omnia & cupio 
 tibi, & fpero vale. 
 
 Londir.i, Aug. 15, i666. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. Qo3 
 
 not fiirprifing; and if fuch a rumor prevailed 
 among thofe of your nation , as it feems to hsve 
 done , becaufe they were felicitous for my health, 
 it is not unpleafmg , for I mufl efleem it as a 
 proof of their benevolence towards me. But by 
 the gracioufnefs of God , who had prepared for 
 me a fafe retreat in the country , I am flill alive 
 and well; and I trull not utterly an unprofitable 
 fervant, whatever duty in life there yet remains 
 for me to fulfil. That you remember me, after 
 fo long an interval in our correfpondence , gra- 
 tifies me exceedingly , though , by the politenefs 
 of your expreffion , you feem to afford me room 
 to fufpe<^5 that you have rather forgotten me, 
 fmce , as you fay , you admire in me fo many 
 different virtues wedded together. From fo many 
 weddings I fliould alluredly dread a family too 
 numerous, were it not certain that, in narrow 
 circumOances and under feverity of fortune , vir- 
 tues are moft excellently reared , and are moft 
 flourifhing. Yet one of thefe faid virtues has not 
 very handfomely rewarded me for entertaining 
 her; for that which you call my political virtue, 
 and which I fhould rather wifh you to call my 
 devotion to my country (enchanting me with 
 her captivating name) almoft, if I may fay fo , 
 expatriated me. Other virtues, however, join 
 their voices to affure me , that wherever we prof- 
 per, in reftitude there is our country. In ending 
 my letter, let me obtain from you this favor, 
 that if you find any parts of it incorredly wTitten, 
 
Q04 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 and without ftops , you will impute it to the 
 boy who Avrites for me, who is utterly igno- 
 rant of Latin, and to whom I am forced (wret- 
 chedly enough) to repeat every fmgle fyllable 
 that I di(Slate. I ftill rejoice that your merit as 
 an accompliflied man, ^vhom I knew as a youth 
 of the higheft expectation , has advanced you fo 
 far in the honorable lavor of your prince. For 
 your profperity in every other point you have 
 both my wiflies and my hopes. Farewel. 
 " London , Auguft i5, 1666." 
 HoAV interefting is this complaint, ^vhen we 
 recoiled that the great writer, reduced to fuch 
 irkfome difficulties in regard to his fecretary, was 
 probably engaged at this penod in poliihing the 
 fublimeft of poems. 
 
 From Ellwood's account it appears , that Pa- 
 radife Loft ^vas complete in i665. Philips and 
 Toland affert, that it was adually publifLed the 
 following year; but I believe no copy has been 
 found of a date fo early. The firft edition on 
 the lift of the very accurate Mr. Loft ^vas print- 
 ed by Peter Parker in 1667, and, probably, at 
 the expenfe of the author, who fold the work 
 to Samuel Simmons, by a contra 61 dated the Q7th 
 of April , in the fame year. 
 
 The terms of this contrail are fuch as a lover 
 of genius can hardly hear without a ligh of pity 
 and indignation. The author of the Paradife Loft 
 received only an immediate payment of five pounds 
 for a work , which is the very malter - piece 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 2o5 
 
 of fublime and refined imagination ; a ia- 
 cuky not only naturally rare, but requiring an 
 extraordinary coincidence of circuftances to cherifli 
 and ftrenothen it for the \onrr and regular exer- 
 
 o o o 
 
 cife eflential to the production of fuch a poeni- 
 The bookfeller's agreement, however, entitled 
 the author to a conditional payment of fifteen 
 pounds m.ore; five to he paid after the fale of 
 thirteen hundred copies of the firfl edition , and 
 five, in the fame manner, both on a fecond and 
 a third. - The number of each edition was li- 
 mited to fifteen hundred copies. 
 
 The original fize of the publication was a 
 fmall quarto , and the poem was at firfi. divided 
 into ten books; but in the fecond edition the 
 author very judicioufly increafed the number to 
 twelve, by introducing a paufe in the long nar- 
 nation of the feventh and of the tenth, fo that 
 each of thefe book? berame two. 
 
 Simmons was a printer, and hh brief adver- 
 tifement to the work he had purchafed is curious 
 enough to merit in fcrtion : 
 
 '• Courteous Reader, there was no argument 
 at firft intended to the book; but for the fatis- 
 facflion of many that have defired it, I have pro- 
 cured it, and withal a reafon of that, which 
 flumbled many others, why the poem rhymes 
 not. " Here ^ve may plainly fee that the no- 
 velty of blank verfe was confidered as an un- 
 palatable innovation. The book, however, ad- 
 vanced fo far in its fale, that thirteen hundred 
 
^Ob THE LITE OF MILTON. 
 
 were difperfed in two' years. In April, i66g j 
 the author received his fecond payment of five 
 pounds. The fecond edition came forth in the 
 year of his death, and the third in four years 
 after that event : his widow, who inherited a 
 right to the copy, fold all her claims to Simmons 
 for eight pounds, in December, i6So; fo tliat 
 twenty-eight pounds , paid at different times in 
 the courfe of thirteen years, is the whole pecu- 
 niary reward which this great performance pro- 
 duced to the poet and his widow. 
 
 But although the emolument, which the au- 
 thor derived from his nobleft produ^iion, was 
 moil deplorably inadequate to its merit, he was 
 abundantly gratified with immediate and fervent 
 applaufe from the feveral accompliflied judges of 
 poetical genius. It has been generally fuppofed, 
 that Paradife Loft was negleded to a mortifying 
 degree on its firfl: appearance ; and that the exalted 
 poet confoled his fpirit under fuch mortification 
 by a magnanimous confidence in the juflice of 
 future ages, and a fanguine anticipation of his 
 poetical immortality. The flrength and dignity 
 of his mind would indeed have armed him againft 
 any poffible difappointment of his literary ambi- 
 tion ; but fuch was the reception of his work , 
 that he could not be difappointed. Johnfon has 
 vindicated the public on this point with judge- 
 ment and fuccefs : " The fale of books ( he ob- 
 " ferves) was not in Milton's age what it is in 
 " the prefentj the nation had been fatisfied, 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. «07 
 
 " from i6q3 to 1664, that is forty -one years, 
 «« with only two editions of the works of Shak- 
 « fpeare, which probably did not together mak« 
 « one thoufand copies. The fale of thirteen 
 " hundred copies in two years, in oppofition to 
 " fo much recent enmity, and to a flyle of ver- 
 « fification new to all, and difgufling to many, 
 « ^vas an uncommon example of the prevalence 
 '• of genius." Thefe remarks are perfeftly juft; 
 but when their author proceeds to fay, "• the 
 « admirers of Paradife Loft did not dare to pub- 
 " lifli their opinion," he feems to forget the very 
 fpirited eulogies, that were, during the life of the 
 poet, bellowed on that performance. Panegyric 
 ran hardly affume a bolder tone than in the 
 Englifli and Latin verfes add^eilea to Milton by 
 Marvel and Barrow. He received other com- 
 pliments not inferior to thefe. The mufe of 
 Dryden affured him, that he pofleffed the united 
 excellencies of Homer and of Virgil; and, if we 
 may rely on an anecdote related by Richardfon, 
 the Paradife Loft was aitnounced to the world 
 in a very fmgular manner, that maybe thought 
 not ill-fuited to the pre-eminence of the work. 
 Sir John Denham, a man diftinguiflied as a fol- 
 dier , a fenator, and a poet, came into the 
 Houfe of Commons with a proof-ilieet of Mil- 
 ton's new compofition wet from the prefs; and 
 being queftioned concerning the paper in his 
 hand; he faid, it was " part of the nobleft poem 
 " that ever was written in any language or in 
 
20S THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 any age." Richardfon, whofe adive and liberal j 
 affection for the poet led him to fenich with in- I 
 telligent alacrity and fuccefs for every occur- 
 rence that could redound to his honor, has re- 
 corded another incident, which muft be particu- 
 larly interefling to every lover of literary anec- 
 dote, as it difcovers how the Paradife Loft, was 
 firft introduced to D yden , and with what fer- 
 vency of admiration he immediately fpoke of it. 
 The Earl of Dorfet and Fleetwood Shepard , the 
 friend of Prior, found the poem, according to 
 this ftory, at a book'feller's in Little Britain , who, ^ 
 lamenting its want of circulation, entreated the 'm 
 Earl to recommend it ; Dorfet, after reading J 
 it liimfelf , fent it to Dryden , who faid , in re- ' 
 turning the book, "• This man cuts us all out, 
 and the ancients too." Thefe were probably the 
 real fentiments of Dryden on his firft perufal of 
 the poem ; but as that unhappy genius Avas not 
 bleft with the independent magnanimity of Mil- 
 ton , his opinions were apt to fluctuate accord- 
 ing to his intereft, and we fmd him occafionally 
 difpofed to exalt or degrade the tranfccndent per- 
 formance , which he could not but admire. As 
 the fix celebrated verfes , in which he has com- 
 plimented the Englifh Homer, fo much refemble 
 what he faid of him to Lord Dorfet, it is pro- 
 bable that thofe verfes were written while his 
 mind was glowing with admiration from his firft 
 furvey of the Paradife Loft; and as long as Mil- 
 ton lived, Dryden feems to have paid him the 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. SOg 
 
 deference fo jiiftly due to his age, liis genius, 
 ^^'■"r\ liis virlue. Aubrey relates , in the maiuifcript 
 '^-'I'ch I have repeatedly cited, that the poet 
 ; nu-eat waited on Milton for tJie purpofe of foli- 
 c;t)ng his permiflion to put his Paradife Loil into 
 a drama. " Mr. Milton ({ays Aubrey) received 
 him civilly, and told him, he would give him 
 leave to taer his verfes," an exprellion that pro- 
 bably alidded to a couplet of Mnrvel's , in his 
 poetical eulogy on his friend. The opera ^vhich 
 Dryden ^v^ote, in confecjuence of this permifhon, 
 entitled the ftate of Iimocence , was not exhi- 
 bited in the tlieatre, and did not appear in print 
 tih two years after the death of Milton, who is 
 mentioned in becomina terms of veneration and 
 
 o 
 
 gratitude in the preface. The drama itfelf is a 
 very fmgular and ftriking performance; with all 
 the beauties and all the detects of Dryden's ani- 
 mated unequal verlification, it has peculiar claims 
 to the attention of thole, who may wiili to in- 
 veAigate the refpe^ive powers of Englilh rhyme 
 and blank verfe , and it may furnifh argum.ents 
 to the partifans of each ; for, if in many paffages 
 the images and harmony of Milton aredeplorably 
 injured by the necefhty of rhyming, in a few 
 inflances, perhaps, rhyme has imparted even to 
 the ideas of Milton new energy and grace. There 
 are prefixt to this opera fome very animated but 
 injudicious verfes by poor Nat. Lee, who has 
 lavillied the moil exaggerated praife on his friend 
 Dryden, at the expenfe of the fuperior poet. 
 
210 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 It is highly pleafmg to refled, that Milton, 
 who had fo many evils to fuftain in the courfe 
 of his chequered life, had yet the high gratifica- 
 tion of being affured, by very competent judges, 
 that he had glorioufly fucceeded in the prime 
 obje£^ of his literary ambition , the great poetical 
 achievement, which he projeded in youth, and 
 accomplice d in old age. He probably received 
 fuch animating a (Turances from many of his friends, 
 whofe applaufe , being intended for his private 
 fatisfa6^ion , has not defcended to our time; but 
 when we recollect the honors already mentioned, 
 that were paid to the living poet by Denham , 
 Dryden , and Marvel , we may refl fatisfied in 
 the perfuafion, that he enjoyed a grateful ear- 
 neft of his future renown , and according to the 
 petition he addreffed to Urania, 
 
 " Fit audience found tho' few." 
 
 If the fpirit of a departed bard can be grati- 
 fied by any circumftances of poft humous renown, 
 it might gratify Milton to perceive, that his divine 
 poem was firft indebted for general celebrity to 
 the admiration of Sommers and of Addifon, two 
 of the moft accomplifhed and moft amiable of| 
 Englifli names. Sommers promoted the firft or- 
 namented edition of Paradife Loft in 1688; and 
 Addifon wrote his celebrated papers on Milton 
 in 1712. 
 
 I 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 211- 
 
 But to return to the living author ; in the 
 year 1670, the great poet afpired to new diftinc- 
 tion, by appearing in the characier of an hiftorian. 
 — He had long meditated a work, which, in 
 his time , \vas particularly wanted in our lan- 
 guage , and which the greater cultivation be- 
 ftowed by the prefent age on this branch of lite- 
 rature has not yet produced in perfection — an 
 eloquent and impartial hiftory of England. Mil- 
 ton executed only fix books, beginning with the 
 mofl early fabulous period , and clofmg with the 
 Norman conqueft. **• Why he iliould have 
 given the firft part (fays Johnfon) which he feems 
 not to believe, and which is univerfally rejected, 
 it is difficult to conjecture." Had the critic taken 
 the trouble to perufe a few pages of the work in 
 queftion his difficulty would have vanifhed ; he 
 would at leaft have found the motive of the au- 
 thor, if he had not efteemed it fatisfaClory : 
 
 " I have determined (fays Milton) in fpeaking 
 of the ancient and rejected Britilli fables, to 
 bellow the telling over even of thefe reputed 
 tales , be it for nothing elfe but in favor of our 
 Englifh poets and rhe*-oricians , who by their 
 art will know hoAv to ule them judicioufly." This 
 fentiment implies a ftriking fondnefs for works of 
 imagination , and a good natured difpofition to 
 promote them. 
 
 The hifiorian difcovers higher aims as he ad- 
 vances in his work, and exprefies a moral and 
 patriotic defire to make the lefTons fuggefted by 
 
Q12 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 the early calamities of this nation a fource of 
 wifdom and virtue to his improvinfT countrymen. 
 The very paiTage, which was moll hkely to pro- 
 duce fuch an effort, was ftruck out of the pub- 
 lication by the Gothic hand of the licenfer, an 
 incident that feems to give new energy to all the 
 noble arguments, \vhich the injured author had 
 formerly adduced in vindicating the liberty of 
 the prefs. 
 
 The paflage in queftion contained a very 
 mafterly fketrh of the long parliament and aflem- 
 bly of divines, contrafting their fituation and 
 their mifconduci, after the death of Charles the 
 Firit, with thofe of tlie ancient Britons, when, 
 by the departure of the Roman power, "• they 
 were left (according to the eA'prefTion of the hif- 
 torian) to the f\vay of their own councils. " The 
 author gave a copy of this unlicenfed parallel 
 to the celebrated Earl of Anglefey, a man dif- 
 tinguiilied by erudition , Avith a liberal refpert 
 for genius, and though a minifter of Charles tlie 
 Second, a frequent vifiter of Milton. This curious 
 fragment was pub!iflied in 1681, with a fliort 
 preface, declaring, that it originally belonged to 
 the tliird book of Milton's Kiftory; and in the 
 edition of his profe works, in 1738, it was pro- '|H 
 perly replaced. The poet would have fucceeded 
 more eminently as an hiftorian, had his talents 
 been exercifed on a period more favorable to 
 their exertion. We have reafon to regret his not 
 having executed the latter part of his original 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 2l3 
 
 intention , inftead of dwelling on the meager and 
 dark annals of Saxon barbarity. In his early 
 hiftory , however , there are paffages of great 
 force and beauty; his chara61er of Alfred in par- 
 ticular is worthy that engaging model of an ac- 
 compliflied monarch , and verifies a fentiment , 
 which Milton profefled, even while he was de- 
 fending the commonwealth, that although a re- 
 folute enemy to tyrants, he was a fincere friend 
 to fucli kings as merited the benedidion of their 
 people '•'. 
 
 * The attrailive merit of Alfred, and the affeftionate zeal, 
 with which Milton appears to have delineated his charadler, 
 form a double motive for inferting it in a note, as a fpecimen 
 of the great author's ftyle in hiftorical compofition. 
 
 " After which troublefome time Alfred enjoying three years 
 of peace, by him fpent, as his manner was, not idly or vo- 
 luptuously, but in all virtuous employments both of mind and 
 body, becoming a prince of his renown, ended his days in the 
 year nine hundred, the fifty-firft of his age, the thirtieth of 
 his reign, and was buried regally atWincheller : he was born 
 at a place called Wanading, in Berkshire, his mother Osburga, 
 the daughter of Oslac the king's cup-bearer, a Goth by nation, 
 and of noble defcent. He was of perfon comelier than all his 
 brethren, of pleafing tongue, and graceful behaviour, ready 
 wit and memory; yet, through the fondnefs of his parents to- 
 wards him , had not been taught to read till the twelfth year 
 ' of his age ; but the great defire of learning which was in him 
 foon appeared, by his conning of Saxon poems day and night, 
 which, with great attention, he heard by others repeated. He 
 was befides excellent at hunting, and the new art then of hawk- 
 ing, but more exemplary in devotion, having coUefted into 
 a book certain prayers and pfalms , which he carried ever with 
 him in his bofotn to nfe on all occafious. He thirlled after all 
 
214 THE LIFE OF MILTOK. 
 
 In 1671 , the year after the firft appearence of 
 his hiflory, he pubhlhed the Paradife Regained, 
 and Samfon Agoniftes. 
 
 liberal knowledge, and oFfc complained, that in his youth^he 
 had no teachers, in his middle age fo little vacancy from wars 
 and the cares of his kingdom; yet leifure he found fometimes, 
 not only to learn much himfelf , but to communicate thereof 
 what he could to his people, by translating books out of Latin 
 into English, Orofius, Boethius, Beda's hiftory, and others j 
 permitted none unlearned to bear office , either in court or com- 
 monwealth. At twenty years of age, not yet reigning, he 
 took to wife Egelfwitha, the daughter of Ethelred, a Mercian 
 earl. The extremities which befel him in the fixth of his 
 reign, Neothan Abbot told him were juftly come upon him for 
 neglefting, in his younger days, the complaint of fuch as, in- 
 jured and oppreflfed, repaired to him, as then fecond perfon in 
 the kingdom, for redrtfs 5 which negledl, were it fuch indeed, 
 were yec excufable in a youth, through jollity of mind, unwil- 
 ling perhaps to be detained long with fad and forrowful narra- 
 tions j but from the time of his undertaking regal charge no 
 man more patient in hearing caufes , more inquifitive in exa- 
 mining, more exait in doing juftice, and providing good laws, 
 which are yet extant; more fevere in punishing unjuft judges 
 or obftinate offenders, thieves efpecially and robbers, to the 
 terror of whom in crofs ways were hung upon a high poll cer- 
 tain chains of gold, as it were daring any one to take themjl 
 thence; fo that juttice fcemed in his days not to Hourish only, 
 but to triumph : no man can be more frugal of two precious 
 things in man's life, his time and his revenue; no man wifer 
 in the difpofal of both. His time, the day and night, he diftri- 
 buted by the burning of certain tapers into three equal portions; 
 the one was for devotion, the other for public or private affairs, 
 the third for bodily refreshment; how each hour paft he was 
 put in mind by one who had that office. His whole annual 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. Ql5 
 
 Many groundlefs remarks have been made on 
 the fuppofed want of judgment in Milton to form 
 a proper eftimate of his own con pofitions. " His 
 lafl poetical offspring (fays Johnfon) was his fa- 
 vorite; he could not, as EUwood relates, en- 
 dure to have Paradife Loft preferred to Paradife 
 
 revenue, which his firft care was should be juftly his own, he 
 divided into two equal parts; the firft he employed to fecular 
 ufes, and fubdivided thofe into three; the firft to pay his fol- 
 diers, houfehold fervants, and guards, of which, divided into 
 three bands, one attended monthly by turn; the fecond was to 
 pay his architefts and workmen , whom he had got together of 
 feveral nations, for he was alfo an elegant builder, above the 
 cuftom and conceit of Englishmen in thofe days; the third he 
 had in readinefs te relieve or honor ftrangers , according to 
 their worth, who came from all parts to fee him, and to live 
 under him. The other equal part of his yearly wealth he de- 
 dicated to religious ufes; thofe of four forts; the firft to relieve 
 the poor, the fecond to the building and maintenance of two 
 monafteries, the third of a fchool, where he had perfuaded 
 many noblemen to ftudy facred knowledge and liberal arts, 
 fome fay at Oxford'; the fourth was for the relief of foreign 
 churches, as far as India to the shrine of St. Thomas, fending 
 thither Sigelm bishop of Sherburn , who both returned fafe and 
 brought with him many rich gems and fpices ; gifts alfo , and 
 a letter, he received from the patriarch at Jerufalem; fent many 
 to Rome, and from them received relics. Thus far, and much 
 more, might be faid of his noble mind, which rendered him 
 the mirror of princes. His body was difeafed in his youth with 
 a great forenefs in the feige, and that ceafing of itfelf, with 
 another inward pain of unknown caufe, which held him by 
 frequent fits to his dying day; yet not difenabled to fuftain thofe 
 many glorious labors of his life both in peace and war.— Profe 
 Works, Vol. II. p. 97- 
 
2 16 THE LIFE OF MILTON.' 
 
 Regained." Tn this brief p[i(rage , there is more 
 than one mifrepreientation. It is not EH wood, 
 but Philips , who fpeaks of Milton's eReem for 
 his latter poem ; and inflead of faying that the 
 author preferred it to his greater work, he merely 
 intimates , that Milton was offended with the ge- 
 neral cenfure, which condemned the Paradife Re- 
 gained as infinitely inferior to the other. Inilead 
 of fuppohng , therefore , that the great poet was 
 under the influence of an abfurd predilecSiion , we 
 have only reaion to conclude, that he heard with 
 lively fcorn fuch idle witticilm as we find re- 
 corded by Toland, " That Milton might be feen 
 in Paradife Loft, but not in Paradife Regained." 
 His o^vu accompliflied mind, in which fenfibility 
 and judgment were proportioned to extraordinary 
 imaginarion, moft probably afTured him what is 
 indifputably true, that uncommon energy of 
 thought and felicity of compofition are apparent in 
 both performances, however diflerent indehgn, 
 dimenfion, and effect, lo cenfure the Paradife 
 Retrained , becaufe it does not more reiemble the 
 preceding poem , is hardly lefs abfurd than it 
 would be to condemn the moon for not being 
 a fun , inflead of admiring tlie two different lu- 
 minaries , and feeling that both the greater and 
 the lefs are vifibly. the work af the fame divine 
 and inimitable powei'. 
 
 Johnfon has very liberally noticed one pecu- 
 liarity in Milton, and calls it, \vith a benevolent 
 happinefs of exprelfion , " a kind of hurnble 
 
 dignity, 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. QI7 
 
 " dignity , which did not difdain the meaneft 
 *' fervices to literature. The epic poet, the con- 
 " trovertiit , the politician , having already def- 
 " cended to accommodate children with a book 
 " of rudiments, now, in the laft years of his 
 " life, compofed a book of Logic, for the initia- 
 " tion of lludents in philofophy, and pnbliflied, 
 " 1672, Artis logicae plenior Inftitutio ad Petri 
 " Rami Methodum concinnata , that is , a new 
 " fcheme of Logic , according to the method of 
 " Ramus. " 
 
 It is fo pleafing to find one great author fpeak- 
 ing of another in terms , which do honor to both, 
 that I tranfcribe , with fingular fatisfadion , the 
 preceding paifage of the eminent biographer , 
 whofe frequent and injurious afperity to Milton I 
 have fo repeatedly noticed , and muft continue 
 to notice, with reprehenfion and regret. 
 
 In the very moment of delivering the juft 
 encomium I have commended , the critic difco- 
 vers an intemperate eagernefs to revile the obje£l 
 of his praife; for he proceeds to fay of Milton, 
 " I know not whether , even in this book , he 
 *' did not intend an a6t of hoftility againft the 
 " univerfities , for Ramus was one of the firft 
 " oppugners of the old philofophy, who difturbed 
 " with innovations the quiet of the fchools." Is 
 there not a vifible want of candor in Ihowing fo 
 wildly a wifli to impute a very inoffenfive and 
 meritorious work of fcience to a malevolent 
 motive ? 
 
 16 
 
Ulh X ti h. L iih Ob' MILTON. 
 
 Ramus was a man , whofe writings and me- 
 mory were jnftly regarded by Mitton, for he re- 
 fembled our great countryman in temperance , 
 in fortitude, in' paflion for ftudy, and, above 
 all, in a brave and inflexible oppofition to ig- 
 norance, tyranny, and fuperflition ; his life was 
 a continued fluggle with thefe mercilefs enemies, 
 and he perillied at laft with circumflances of pe- 
 culiar barbarity , in the atrocious maiTare of St. 
 Bartholomew. 
 
 A defire of rendering juftice to the talents and 
 virtues of fuch a fufferer in the caufe of learning 
 might furely be afcribed to Milton, as a more 
 probable and becoming motive on this occafion, 
 than dark inteniions of hoflility againft the uni- 
 verfities. It is but a forry comphment to thofe 
 univerfities to infmuate , that he engaged in war- 
 fare againft them, who republilhed a fimple and 
 feafonable treatife on the management of human 
 reafon. Milton with great judgment augmented 
 the logic of Ramus , and added to his fyftem an 
 abridgment of the Latin life, which Fregius had 
 written , of its unfortunate author. 
 
 The long literary career of Milton \vas now 
 drawing towards its termination , and it clofed as 
 it began , with a fervent regard to the intereft of 
 religion, — Alarmed by that encroachrnent, which 
 the Romifli fuperftition was making under the 
 connivance of Charles the Second, and with the 
 aid of his apoftate brother , Milton publiflied 
 *' A treatife of true Religion, Herefy, Schifm, 
 
THE LIFE OF mJi L T O N. aiQ 
 
 *' Toleration , and the befl means to prevent the 
 " Growth of Popery. " The patriotic fcope of 
 this work was to unite and confoUdate the jar- 
 rings fefls of the proteftants, by perfuading them 
 to reciprocal indulgence , and to guard them 
 againft thofe impending dangers from Rome , 
 which, in a fhort period , burft upon this illand, 
 and very happily terminated in our fignal deli- 
 verance from many of thofe religious and political 
 evils, which the fpirit of Milton had, through 
 a long life, mofl refolutely and confcientioufly 
 oppofed. 
 
 His treatife againft the growth of popery , 
 which was publilhed in 1673, was the laft confi- 
 derable performance that he gave to the world; 
 but publication in fome fliape feems to have con- 
 tributed to his amufement as long as he exifted. 
 In the fame year he reprinted his fmaller poems 
 with the Tra£late on Education ; and in the year 
 following , the laft of his laborious life , he pub- 
 lilhed his Familiar Letters, and a Declaration of 
 the Poles in praife of their heroic fovereign , John 
 Sobiefki, tranflated from the Latin original. A 
 brief hiftory of Mofcovia, which he appears to 
 have compiled , in the early parts of his life , 
 from various travellers who had vifited that coun- 
 try, was publiihed a few years after his death, 
 and two of his compofitions (both perhaps in- 
 tended for the prefs) have probably periihed; the 
 firft , a Syftem of Theology in Latin , that feems 
 to have been intrulted to hig £ciend Cyriac 
 
a20 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 Skinner; the fecond, an Anfwerto a fcurrilons libel 
 upon himfelf , which his nephew iuppofes him to 
 have fupprefled from ajuft contempt of his reviler. 
 
 Soon after liis marriage in i66i , he had re- 
 moved from Jewin-fireet to a houfe in the Artil- 
 lery-walk, leading to Bunhill-fields , a fpot that 
 to his enthufiaflic admirers may appear confe- 
 crated by his genius. : here he rehded in that 
 period of his days , when he was peculiarly enti- 
 tled to veneration; heie he probably finiilied no 
 lefs than three of his admirable works; and here, 
 with a diflohition fo eafy that it was unperceived 
 by the perfons in his chan:iber, he doled a life, 
 clouded indeed by uncommon and various ca- 
 lamities, yet ennobled by the conftant exercife of 
 fuch rare endo\vments as render his name, per- 
 haps, the very firft in that radiant and compre- 
 henfive lift, of which England, the mofl fertile 
 of countries in the produce of mental power, has 
 reafon to be proud. 
 
 For fome years he had fuffered mucli from 
 the gout, and in July, 1674, he found his con- 
 flitution fo broken by that diflemper, that he 
 "was willing to prepare for his departure from 
 the world. With this view he informed his bro- 
 ther Chriflopher, who was then a bencher in the 
 Inner Temple , of the difpofition he wifhed to 
 make of his property. "• Brother (faid the in- 
 valid) the portion due to me from Mr. Po^vell, 
 my firft wife's father, I leave to the unkind 
 children I had by her ; but I have received no part 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 221 
 
 ©fit; and my will and meaning is, they fliallhave 
 ho other benefit of my eflate than the faid portion, 
 and what 1 have befides done for them, they 
 having been very undutiful to me ; and all the 
 refidue of my eftate I leave to tlie difpofal of 
 Ehzabeth, my loving wife." Such is the brief 
 teftament, which Milton dictated to his brother, 
 about tlie Qoth of July, but which Chriftoplier 
 does not appear to have committed to paper till 
 a few days after the deceafe of the teftator, who 
 expired on Sunday night, the i5th pf November, 
 1674. " All his learned and great friends in 
 London, (fays Toland) not without a friendly 
 concourfe of the vulgar, accompanied his body 
 to the church of St. Giles, near Cripplegate, 
 where he lies buried in the chancel." This bio- 
 grapher, who, though he had the misfortune to 
 think very differently from Milton on the great 
 article of religion , yet never fails to fpeak of him 
 with affectionate refpeCf, indulged a pleahng ex- 
 pectation, when he wrote his life 'in the clofe of 
 the laft century, that national munificence would 
 fpeedily raife a monument worthy of the poet, 
 to prote61 and to honor his remains. To the 
 difcredit of bur country llie has failed to pay this 
 decent tribute to the memory of a man , irom 
 whofe genius flie has derived fo much glory; hut 
 an individual, Mr. Benfon, in the year 1737, 
 placed a bnft of the great author in Weflminfter 
 Abbey; an u.3. of liberality that does him credit, 
 though Johnfon and Pope have both fatirized 
 
22^ THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 the monumental infcription with a degree of cy- 
 nical afperity : fuch afperity appears unfeafonable, 
 becaufe all the oftentation, fo feverily cenrured 
 in Mr. Benfon , amounts merely to his having 
 faid, in the plaineft manner, that he raifed the 
 monument; and to his having added to his own 
 name a common enumeration of the offices he pof- 
 felTed ; a circumftance in which candor might have 
 difcovered rather more modefty than pride. — - 
 Affluence appears particularly amiable when 
 paying a voluntary tribute to negleded genius, 
 even in the grave; nor is Benfon the only in- 
 dividual of ample fortune, who has endeared 
 himfelf to the lovers of literature by generous 
 endeavours to promote the celebrity of AWton. 
 Alfedlionate admirers of the poet will honor the 
 memory of the late Mr. HoUis, in recoUeding 
 that he devoted much time and money to a fi- 
 milar purfuit; and they will regret that he \vas 
 unable to difcover the Italian verfes , and the 
 marble bull, which he diligently fought for in 
 Italy, on a fuggeftion that fuch memorials of 
 our poetic traveller had been carefully preferved 
 in that country. But from this brief digreffion 
 on the recent admirers of Milton, let us return 
 to his family at the time of his deceafe. 
 
 His will was contefted by the daughters , 
 whofe undutiful condiid it condemned : being 
 deficient in form , it was fet afide , and letters 
 of adminiflration were granted to the widow , 
 who is faid to have allotted a hundred pounds 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. 873 
 
 to each daughter, a fum which, being probably 
 too httle in their opinion , and too mucli in 
 her's, would naturally produce reciprocal animo- 
 fity and cenfure between the contending parties. 
 
 It, has been already obferved , that the recent 
 difcovery of this forgotten will, and the allega- 
 tions annexed to it, throw confiderable light on 
 the domeftic life of Milton ; and the more inhght 
 we can gain into his focial and fequeftered hours, 
 the more we fliall difcover, that he was not lefs 
 entitled to private aiTe6tion , than to public ef- 
 teem; but let us contemplate his perfon , before 
 we proceed to a minuter examination of his mind 
 and. manners. 
 
 So infatuated with rancor were the enemies 
 of this illuArious man , that tliey delineated his 
 form, as they reprefented liis cb.arat^er, with the 
 utmoft extravac!;ance of malevolent falfliood :' he 
 was not only compared to tliat monfter of de- 
 formity, the eyelefs Polypheme, but defcribed 
 as a diminutive, bloodlcfs, and flirivelled crea- 
 ture. Expreflions of this kind, in which abfur- 
 dity and malice are equally apparent, induced 
 him to expofe the contemptible virulence of his 
 revilers by a brief defcription of his own figure '•'. 
 
 * Veniamus nunc ad mea crimina; eftiic quod in vita aui 
 moribus reprehendat? Certe nihil. Quid ergo? Quod nemo nifi 
 immanis ac barbarus fecilTet, formam mihi ac cxcitatem objeclat. 
 
 Monftrumhorrenduin, informe, ingens, cni lumen adeinptum. 
 Nunquam exiftimabam quidem fore, ut de forma, cum Cyclope 
 certamen mihi effet j verum ftatim fe revocat. " Ouanquam 
 
2 24: THE LIFE OF M 1 L l O N. 
 
 He reprefents himfelf as a man of moderate fta- 
 ture, not particularly Hender, and fo far endued 
 with ftrength and fpirit, that as he always wore 
 a fword 5 he wanted not, in his healthy feafon 
 of life, either fkill or courage to ufe it; having 
 pra6lifed fencing with great alliduity, heconfidered 
 
 necingens, quo nihil eft exilius exfanguius contradlius.'" Tam- 
 etfi virum nihil attinet de forma dicere, tandem qiiando hie 
 queqiie eft unde gratias deo agam & mendaces redarguam ne 
 quis (quod Hifpanorum vulgiis de hereticis , quos vocant , phis 
 nimio facerdotibus fuis crediilnm opinatur) me forte cynocepha- 
 Inm qiiempiam aut rhinocerota elfe putet , dicam. Deformis qui- 
 dem a nemine quod fciam, qui modo me vidit fum unquam ha, 
 bitus j formofus necnc minus hiboro j ftatura fateor noo f"in 
 procera ; fed quae mediocri tamen quam parvx propior fit ; fed 
 quid fi parva , qua & fummi ixpe turn pnce tiini j-ello viri 
 fuere, quanquam parva cur dicitur , qux ad 'irtutem fatis mag- 
 na eft? Sed tieque exilis admodiim co fane animo iifque viri- 
 bus ut cum aetas vitsque ratio fic fercbat, nee ferrum traftare , 
 necftringere quotidiano ufu exercitatus ncfcirem ; eo accinftiis ut 
 plerumque eram cuivis vcl multo robiiftiori exxquatiim me pu- 
 tabam, fecurus quid mihi quis injurix vir riro inferre poiTet. 
 Idem hodie animus, esdem vires j oculi non iidcm; ita tamen 
 extrinfecus illxfi , ita fine nube clari ac lucidi , ut ^pruni qui 
 acutifEmum cernunti in hac folum parte, lucmet invito, fimu- 
 latur fum. In vultu quo " niiiil cxfanguius" effe dixit, is 
 manet etiamnum color exfangni & palcnti plane contrarius, ut 
 quadragenario major vix fit cui non denis prope annis videar 
 natii minor; neque corpore contracto neqiie cute. In his ego 
 fi ulla ex parte mentior muUis millibus popub.rium mcorum 
 qui de facie me norunt, exteris etiam non pancis, ridiculus me- 
 rito fim : fm ifte in re aninime necefTiria tarn impudenter gra' 
 tuito mendax comperietur poteritis de rcliquo eandcm conjeftu- 
 ram facere, Atque hacc de forma mea vel coacbiis. 
 
THE LITE OF MILTO>s. 225 
 
 himfelf as a match for any antagonift, however 
 fap?rior to liirn In miifcular force; his coifn- 
 tennnce (lie favs) was fo far from being bloodlefs, 
 that wlien turned of forty he was cjenerally al- 
 lowed to have the appearance of being ten years 
 yoimger ; even his eyes (he adds) though utterly de- 
 prived of fight, did not betray their imperfection, 
 but on the contrary appeared as fpecklefs and as 
 lucid as if liis powers of vifion had been pecu- 
 liarly acute — "• In this article alone" (fays Mil- 
 ton) "" and much againft my will, I am an 
 " hypocrite." 
 
 Sucli is the interefting portrait, which this 
 great writer has left us of himfelf. Thofe who 
 had the happinefs of knowing him perfonally, 
 fpeak in the higheft teritis even of his perfonal 
 endoAvments , and feem to have regarded hirn as 
 a model of manly grace and dignity in his figure 
 and deportment. 
 
 " His harmonical and ingenuous foul" (fays 
 Aubrey) " dwelt in a beautiful and well pro- 
 *' portioned body. " 
 
 *^ In toto nufquam eorpore menda fuit. " 
 
 His hair M^as a light brown, his eyes dark grey, 
 and his complexion fo fair, that at college ,. ac- 
 cording to his own exprefTion , he was ftyled 
 *' The Lady," an appellation which he could not 
 reliili; but he confoled himfelf under abfurd rail- 
 lery on the tlelicacy of his perfon, by recollecting 
 
Q26 THE LITE OF MILTON. 
 
 that fimilar raillery had been laviflied on thofe 
 manly and eminent chara6^ers of the ancient 
 world, Demofthenes and Hortenfius. His general 
 appearance approached not in any degree to ef- 
 femiiiacy, "• Mis deportment" (fays Anthony 
 Wood ) " was affable , and his gait ere^ and 
 " manly , befpeaking courage an 1 undannt- 
 " ednefs. " Richardfcn, who labored with af- 
 fe6iionate enthufiafm to acqnire and communicate 
 all poffible information conr.rning the perfon 
 and manners of Milton , has left the two follow- 
 ing fketches of his figure at an advanced period 
 of life. 
 
 " An ancient clergyman of DorfetHiire ( Dr. 
 Wright) found John Milton in a fmall chamber 
 hung with rufly green , -fitting ir: an elbo^v• chair, 
 and dreffed neatly in black, pale but not cada- 
 verous , his liands and fingers gonty and with 
 chalk ftones. " 
 
 "• He ufed alfo to fit, in a grey coaj'fe clotJi 
 coat, at the door of his houfe near Bunhill fi'lds? 
 in warm funny weather, to f njoy the frelh air , 
 and fo , as well as in his room , received the 
 vifits of people of diftinguified parts as well a= 
 equality." It is probable, tliat Milton, in h'n 
 youth, was, in fome meafure, indebted to the 
 engaging graces of his perfon for that early in- 
 trodu(Slion into the politefl fociety , both in Eng- 
 land and abroad , which improved the natural 
 fweetnefs of his character (fo vifible in all his 
 genuine portraits) and led him to unite with 
 
THE LITE or MILTON. S27 
 
 profound erudition, and with the fublimeft talents, 
 an endearing and cheerful delicacy of manncrsj 
 very rarely attained by men , Avhofe application 
 to ftudy is continual and intenfe. 
 
 The enemies of Milton indeed (and liis late 
 biographer I mufl reluctantly include under that 
 defcription ) have labored to fix upon' him a 
 fiClitious and mofl unamiable chara£ler of anfte- 
 rity and harflmefs. "• What we know (fays John- 
 *' fon) of Milton's character in domeftic relations 
 *' is, that he was fevere and arbitrary. His fa- 
 *' mily confifled of women , and there appears 
 " in his books fomething like a Turkifii contempt 
 *' of females, as fubordin ate and inferior beings ; 
 ** that his own daughters might not break the 
 *' ranks , he fuffered them to be depreffed by a 
 *' mean and penurious education. He thought 
 *' woman made only for obedience , and man 
 ** for rebellion." This is affuredly the intemperate 
 language of hatred, and very far from being con- 
 fonant to truth. 
 
 As it was thought a fufficient defence of 
 Sophocles, when he was barbaroufly accufed of 
 mental imbecility by his unnatural children , to 
 read a portion of his recent dramatic works , fo , 
 I am confident , the citation of a few verfes from 
 our Englifli bard may be enough to clear him 
 from a charge equally groundlefs, and almofl as 
 ungenerous. 
 
 No impartial reader of genuine fenfibility will 
 deem it poflible , that the poet could have 
 
QqS the life of MILTON. 
 
 entertained a TurkiOi contempt of females, who 
 has thus dehneated woman : 
 
 All higher knowledge in her prefence falls 
 
 Degraded; wifdom , in difcourfe with her, 
 
 Lofes difcountenanc'd , and like folly fiiows ; 
 
 Authority and reafon on her wait, 
 
 As one intended firfl, not after made 
 
 Occafionally; and to confummate all, 
 
 Greatnefs of mind and noblenefs their feat 
 
 Build in her lovelieft , and create an awe 
 
 About her, as a guard angelic plac'd. . '^ 
 
 A defcrlption fo complete could arife only 
 from fuch exquifite feelings in the poet, as infiired 
 to every deferving female his tendered regard. 
 This argument might be Hill more enforced by 
 a paffage in the fpeech of Raphael ; but the pre- 
 ceding verfes are, I truft, fufficient to coun- 
 terad the uncandid attempt of the acrimonious 
 biographer to prejudice the faireft part of the 
 creation againft a poet, wlio has furpaifed his 
 peers in delineating their charms , whofe poetry, 
 a more enchanting mirror than the lake that he 
 defcribes in Paradife , reprefents their mental 
 united to their perfonal graces , and exhibits in 
 perfe6iion all the lovelinefs of woman. 
 
 As to Milton's deprefTnig his daughters by 
 mean and penurious education , it is a calumny 
 refling only on a report, that he would not allow 
 them the advantage of learning to write. This is 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. QQQ 
 
 evidently falfe , fince Aubrey , who was perfon- 
 rally acquainted with the poet, and who had. 
 probably confulted his widow in regard to many 
 particulars of his life , exprefsly affirms , that his 
 youngeft daughter was his amanuenhs ; a cir- 
 cumftance of \vhich my friend Romney has hap- 
 pily availed himfelf to decorate the folio edition 
 of this life with a produ6iion of his pencil. The 
 youngeft daughter of Milton had the moft fre- 
 quent opportunities of knowing his temper, and 
 ihe happens to be the only one of his children 
 who has delivered a deliberate account of it; but 
 her account , inftead of confirming Johnfon's idea 
 of her father's domeflic feverity, will appear to 
 the candid reader to refute it completely. "• She 
 fpoke of him (fays Richardfon) with great ten- 
 dernefs ; ilie faid he was delightful company , 
 the life of the converfation , and that on account 
 of a flow of fubjecii, and an unaffected cheerful- 
 nefs and civility. " It was this daughter who re- 
 lated the extraordinary circumflance, that flie 
 and one of her fiflers read to their father feve- 
 ral languages, which they did not underitand ; 
 it is remarkable , that flie did not fpeak of it as 
 a hardfliip ; nor could it be thought an intolerable 
 grievance by an affedionate child , who thus af- 
 fifted a blind parent in laboring for the mainte- 
 nance of his family. Such an employment, how- 
 ever, muft have been irkfome; and the confide- 
 rate father , in finding that it was fo , " fent 
 out his children (according to the exprefiion of 
 
sSq the life of MILTON. 
 
 his nephew) to learn fome curious and ingenious 
 forts of manufa6iure , particularly embroideries 
 in gold or filver. " That he was no penurious 
 parent is ftrongly proved by an expreffion that 
 he made ufe of in fpeaking of his will, when he 
 declared, that " he had made provihon for his 
 children in his life -time, and had fpent the 
 greateft part of his eftate in providing for them." 
 It is the more barbarous to arraign the poet for 
 domeftic cruelty, becaufe he appears to have 
 fuffered from the fmgular tendernefs and gene- 
 rofity of his nature. He had reafon to lament 
 tliat excels of indulgence , .with which he for- 
 gave and received again his difobedient and long- 
 alienated wife, fince their re-union not only dif- 
 quieted his days, but gave birth to daughters, 
 who feem to have inherited the perverfity of 
 their mother : 
 
 The wifeft and bell men full oft beguil'd 
 With goodnefs principled , not to rejedl 
 The penitent , but ever to forgive , 
 Are drawn to wear out miferabk days, 
 Intangled with a pois'nous bofom-lhake. 
 
 Thefe pathetic lines, in a fpeech of his Samfon 
 Agoniftes , ftrike me as a forcible allufion to his 
 own connubial infelicity. If in his firft marriage 
 he was eminently unhappy, his fuccefs in the 
 two laft turned the balance of fortune in his 
 favor. That his fecond \vife deferved , poiTelfed, 
 and retahied his afledlion, is evident from hi» 
 
THE LIFE OF MIETON. 23l 
 
 Ibnnet occafioned by her death ; of the care and 
 kindnef's which he had long experienced from 
 the partner of his decUning hfe, he fpoke with 
 tender gratitude to his brother , in explaining 
 his teltamentary intention 5 and we are probably 
 indebted to the care and kindnefs, which the 
 aged poet experienced from this affectionate guar- 
 dian , for the happy accomplifliment of his in- 
 eftimable works. A blind and defolate father 
 muft be utterly unequal to the management of 
 difobedient daughters confpiring againfl: him; the 
 anguiih he endured from their filial ingratitude , 
 and the bafe deceptions, with which they conti- 
 nually tormented him , muft have rendered even 
 the ftrongefl mind very unfit for poetical appli- 
 cation. The marriage , which he concluded by 
 the advice and the aid of his friend Dr. Paget , 
 feems to have been his only refource againft a 
 moft exafperating and calamitous fpecies of do- 
 meftic difquietude ; it appears , therefore , not 
 unreafonable to regard thofe immortal poems , 
 which recovered tranquillity enabled him to pro- 
 duce, as the fruits of that marriage. As matri- 
 mony has , perhaps , annihilated many a literary 
 defign, let it be remembered to. its honor, that 
 it probably gave birth to the brighteft offspring 
 of literature. 
 
 The two eldefl daughters of Milton appear to 
 me utterly unworthy of their father; but thofe 
 who adopt the dark prejudices of Johnfon , and 
 believe with, him^ that the great poet was an 
 
232 THE LIFE Of MILTON. 
 
 auftere domefdc tyrant, will find, in their idea 
 of ilie father , an apology for his children, whofe 
 deliiny in the world 1 iiiall immediately men- 
 tion , that I may have occahon to fpeak of them 
 no more. Anne, the eldeft , who with a defor- 
 med perfon had a plealing face , married an ar- 
 chitedl, and died, with her irrft infant , in child- 
 bed. Mary , the fecond , and apparently the moft 
 deficient in affeflion to her father, died unmarried. • 
 Deborah, who was the favorite of Milton, and 
 who , long after his deceafe , difcovered , on a 
 cafual fight of his genuine portrait, very aficding 
 emotions of hlial tendernefs and enthuliafm, even 
 Deborah deferted him without his kno\vledge , 
 not in confequence of his paternal feverity, of 
 which flie was very far from complaining, but, 
 as Richardfon intimates, from a diigufl Ihe had 
 conceived againfl her mother-in-law. On quitting 
 the houfe of her father, flie went to Ireland with a 
 lady , and afterwards became the wife- of Mr. 
 Clarke, a weaver, in Spital-fields. As her family 
 was numerous, and her circumftances not affluent, 
 the liberal Addifon made her a prefent , from 
 liis regard to the memory of her father, and in- 
 tended to procure her fome decent ellablifHment, 
 but died before he could accomplilli his generous 
 dehgn. From Queen Caroline, llie received fifty 
 guineas , a donation as ill proportioned to the 
 rank of the donor as to the mental dignity of 
 the great genius , whofe indigent daughter -was 
 tlie object of this unprincely munihcence. — 
 
 Mrs. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON, q33 
 
 Mrs Clarke had ten children, but none of tliem 
 appear; to have attra^ied public regard , till 
 Dr. Birch and Dr. Newton , two benevo- 
 lent and refpediable biographers of tl;e poet, 
 difcovered his grand - daughter , Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Fofler, keeping a little chandler's-lhop in the city, 
 poor, aged, and inftrm; they publicly fpoke of 
 her condition; Johnfon was then ^vriting as the 
 coadjutor of Lauder in his attempt to fink the 
 glory of Milton; but as the critic's charity was 
 Hill greater than his fpleen , he feized the occa- 
 lion of recommending, under Lauder's name, 
 this neceflitous descendant of the great poet to 
 the beneficence of his country; Comus was re- 
 prefented for her benefit, in the year 17 5o, and 
 Jolinfon, to his honor, contributed a prologue 
 on the occafion , in which noble fentiments are 
 nobly expreffed. 
 
 The poor grand -daughter of Milton gained 
 but one hundred and thirty pounds by this pub- 
 lic benefacii on ; this fum , however, fmall as it 
 was, afforded peculiar comfort to her declining 
 age, by enabling her to retire to Iflingron with 
 her hufband : llie had feven children, who died 
 before her , and by her own death it is proba- 
 ble that the line of the poet became extin6^. Let 
 us haiten from this painful furvey of his progeny 
 to the more enlivening contemplation of his rare 
 mental endowments. The moft diligent refear- 
 ches into all that can elucidate the real temper 
 of Milton only confirm the opinion , that his 
 
 17 
 
q34 the life of MILTON. 
 
 native chara61erifllcs were mildnefs and magna- 
 nimity, In controverfy his mind was undoubt- 
 edly ov'erheated , and paflages may be quoted 
 from his profe works, tliat are certainly neither 
 mild nor magnanimous; but if his controverfial 
 afperity is compared with the outrageous infolence 
 of his opponents, even that afperity will appear 
 moderation ; in focial intercourfe lie is reprefented 
 as peculiarly courteous and engaging. When the 
 celebrity of his Latni \vork made him efleemed 
 abroad , many inquiries were made concerning 
 his private charader among his familiar acquaint- 
 ance, and the refult of fuch inquiry was, that 
 mildnefs and affability were his dillinguifliing qua- 
 lities. "" Virum effe miti comique ingenio aiunt, " 
 fays the celebrate Heinfius, in a letter that he 
 wrote concerning Milton, in the year i63i, to 
 Gronovius. Another eminent foreigner reprefents 
 him in the fame pleahng light, and from the 
 beft information, ^^oflius, who was at that time 
 in Sweden, and who mentions the praife, winch 
 his royal patronefs Chriflina beftowed on Milton's 
 recent defence of the Lnglifli people , informs 
 his friend Heinfius, that he had obtained a very 
 particular account of the author from a relation 
 of his own, the learned Junius, who wrote the 
 elaborate and interefling hiftory of ancient paint- 
 ing, refided in England, and particularly culti- 
 vated the intimacy of Milton. 
 
 Indeed , when we reflect on the poet's un- 
 common tendernefs towards his parents, and all 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. q35 
 
 the advantages of his early life, both at home 
 and abroad , we have every reafon to believe , 
 that his manners were fmgularly plealing. He 
 was fond of refined female fociety, and appears 
 to have been very fortunate in t^vo female friends 
 of diflintiion , the Lady Margaret Ley, whofe 
 fociety confoled him when he was mortified by 
 the defertion of his firfl: wife, and the no lefs ac- 
 comphlhed Lady Ranelagh , who had placed her 
 fon under his care , and who probably affifted 
 him, when he was a widower and blind, with 
 friendly directions for the management of his fe- 
 male infants. A paffage in one of his letters to 
 her fon fuggefts this idea; for he condoles with 
 his young correfpondent , then at the Univerfity, 
 on the lofs they would both fuftam by the long 
 abfence of his mofl excellent mother , paffing at 
 that time into Ireland ; "^ her departure mult 
 grieve us both," fays Milton, " for to me alfo 
 flie fupplied the place of every friend*; " an ex- 
 preflion full of tendernefs and regret, highly ho- 
 norable to the lady, and a pleahng memorial of 
 that fenfibilit^^ and gratitude , which I am per- 
 fuaded we fliould have feen moft eminent in the 
 charader of Milton , if his Englifh letters had 
 been fortunately preferved , particularly his let- 
 ters to this interefting lady, whofe merits arecom- 
 memorated in an eloquent fermon , preached by 
 billiop Burnet , on the death of her brother, that 
 mild and accompliflied model of virtue andlearniiig^ 
 * Nam & mihi omnium neceffitudinum loco fuit. 
 
q35 the IIFE OFMILTON. 
 
 Robert Boyle. Lady Ranelagh mufl. have been 
 one of the moft exemplary and engaging charac- 
 ters that ever exifted, hnce we find Ihe was the 
 darling fifter of this illuftrious j)hilofopher , and 
 the favorite friend of a poet flill more illullri- 
 ons. Four of Milton's Latin letters are addreffed 
 to her fon, and they blend with moral precepts 
 to the young ftudent refpe^iful and affedionate 
 praife of his mother '•'. j 
 
 In the Latin correfpondence of Milton we i 
 have fome veftiges of his fentiments concerning ^ 
 the authors of antiquity ; and it is remarkable , , 
 that in a deliberate opinion on the merits of i 
 Sallufl; t, he prefers him to all the Roman hifto- >i 
 rians. Milton, however, did not form himfelf l| 
 
 * In the quarto edition of Boyle there are a few letters from 
 his favorite fifter, Lady Ranelagh; one very interefting, iit 
 which she fpeaks of the poet Waller; but she does not men- 
 tion the name of Milton in the whole colledtion. Hel" fon 
 (thefirft andlaft Earl of Ranelagh) who was in his childhood a 
 difciple of the great poet, proved a man of talents, bulinefs , 
 and plea fu re. 
 
 f De Salluftio quod fcribis, dicam libere; quoniam ita vis 
 plane «t dicam quod fentio, Salluftium cuivis Latino hiftorico |il 
 me quidem antefcrre; quse etiam conftans ;fere antiquorum fen- \^ 
 tentia fuit. Habet fuas laudes tuus Tacitus, fed eas meo qui- \^\ 
 dem judicio maximas, quod Salluftium nervis omnibus fit imi- 'ii! 
 tatus. Cum hsec tecum coram differerem perfeciiTe videor quan- i u't 
 tum ex eo quod fcribis conjicio, ut de illo cordatiffimo fcrip- i?f 
 tore ipfe jam idem prope fentias : adeoque ex me qua;ris , cum .'i'f 
 is in exordio belli Catilinarii perdifficile efle dixerit hiftoriam r» 
 fcribere, propterea quod fafta diftis exsequanda funt qua potif- j, Ji 
 fimum ratione id affequi hiftoriarum fcriptorem poffe exiftimem. : ,. 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 23; 
 
 as a writer on any Roman model : being very 
 early moft anxious to excel in literature, he wife- 
 ly attached himfelf to thofe prime examples of 
 literary perfection, the Greeks; among the poets 
 he particularly delighted in Euripides and Homer; 
 his favorites in profe feem to have been Plato 
 and Demofthenes; the firfl peculiarly fit to give 
 richnefs, purity, and luflre to the fancy; the fe- 
 cond, to invigorate the underftanding, and in- 
 fpire the fervid energy of public virtue. It is a 
 very jufi: remark of Lord Monboddo, that even 
 the poetical fpeeches in Paradife Loll derive their 
 confummate propriety and eloquence from the 
 fond and enlightened attention with which the 
 
 Ego vero Cc exiftimo ; qui geftas res dignas digne fcripferit* 
 eiim animo non minus magno reruinque iifii prsedituin fcribere 
 oportere quam is qui eas gefferit : lit vel maximas pari animo 
 compreliendere atque metiri poffit, & comprehenfas fermone 
 puro atquc cafto diflinfte graviterque narr.ire : nam ut ornate 
 non admodum laboro^ hiftoricum enim, non oratorem requiro. 
 Crebras etiam fententias, & judicia de rebus geftis interjeAa 
 prolixe nollem , ne, interrupta reruni ferie, quod polidci fcrip- 
 torismunus eft hiftoricus invadat; qui fi in confiliis explican- 
 dis, faftifque ennarrandis, non fuum inggnium aut conje&uram, 
 fed veritatem potilPimum fequitur, fiiarum profcclo partium fa- 
 tagit. Addiderim & ilhid Salluftianum , qua in re ipfe Cato- 
 tonem maxime laudavit, poffe multa paucis abfolvere; id quod 
 fine acerrimo judicio, atque etiam temperantia quadam neminem 
 pofle arbitror. Sunt multi in quibus vel fermonis elegantiam 
 vel congeftarum rerum copiam non defideres, qui brevitatem cum 
 copia conjunxeric, id eft qui, multa pauci-; abf-ilverit, princcps 
 mco judicio eft Salluftius. — Profe Works, vol. 2. p. 5S2. 
 
238 ^ T H E L I F E O F M I L T N. 
 
 poet had ftudied the moll perfect orator of Athens: 
 the ftudies of Milton, however, were very exten- 
 five ; he appears to have been familiar not only with 
 all the beft authors of antiquity, but with thofe 
 of every refined language in Europe; Italian, 
 French , Spanifli , and Portugueze. Great erudi- 
 tion has been often fuppofed to operate as an 
 incumbrance on the finer faculties of the mind; 
 but let us obferve to its credit, the fublimefl of 
 poets was alfo the moft learned : of Italian lite- 
 rature he was particularly fond, as we may col- 
 le6l from one of his letters to a profeifor of that 
 language, and from the eafe and fpirit of his Ita- 
 lian verfes. To the honor of modern Italy it 
 may he faid , that Ihe had a conhderable Ihare 
 in forming the genius of Milton. In Taffo, her 
 brightefl ornament, he found a character highly 
 worthy of his affectionate emulation , both as a 
 poet and as a man; this accomplifhed perfonage 
 had, indeed, ended his illnflrious and troubled 
 life feveral years before Milton vifited his coini- 
 try; but he was yet living in the memory of 
 his ardent friend Manfo , and through the me- 
 dium of Manfo 's converfition his various excel- 
 lencies made, I am perfuafed, a forcible and 
 permanent imprefhon on the heart and fancy of 
 our youthful countryman. It was hardly the 
 example of Triflino, as Johnfon fuppofes , that 
 tempted Milton to his bold experiment of blank 
 verle; for Trillino's epic poem is a very heavy 
 performance > and had funk into fucli oblivion 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. ' sSg 
 
 in Italy, that the literary friend and biogra- 
 pher of Taflo confiders that greater poet as the 
 firfl perfon who enriched the Italian language 
 Avitli valuable blank verfe : " our early works of 
 that kind ," fays Maiifo, " are tranflations from 
 the Latin , and thofe not fuccefsful. " The 
 poem in blank verfe , for which this amiable 
 biographer applauds his friend, is an extenfive 
 \vork , in feven books, on the Seven Days of 
 the Creation, a fubje^l that has engaged the 
 poets of many countries. The performance of 
 TafTo was begun at the houfe of his friend Manfo, 
 and at the fuggcftion of a lady, the accompliflied 
 mother of the Marquis. As this poem is formed 
 from the Bible, and full of religious enthufiafm, 
 it probably influenced the Englifli vifiter of Manfo 
 in liis choice of blank verfe. Taflo was a volu- 
 minous author, and we have reafon to believe 
 that Milton was fam.iliar with all his compofi- 
 tions, as the exquihte eulogy on connubial af- 
 fe6iion , in the Paradife LoR, is founded on a 
 profe compofition in favor of marriage, addrelled 
 by the Italian poet to one of his relations '^'j but 
 Milton, who was perhaps of all authors the leaft 
 
 * TafTo begins this interefting difcourfe, by informing his 
 kinfman Ercole, that he firft hearJ the news of his having 
 taken a M'ife , and then was fnrprifed by reading a compofuion 
 of his, in which he inveighs not only againft the ladies, but 
 againft matrimony. The poet, with great politenefs and fpirit, 
 alTumes the defence of both, and in the clofe of a learned and 
 eloquent panegyric, indulges his heart and fancy in a very 
 
240 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 addicled to imitation, rarely imitates even TafTo 
 in compolition : in life, indeed, he copied him 
 more clofely, and to his ^reat poetical compeer 
 of Italy he difcovers a very ftrikini; refemblance 
 in application to fludv, in temperance of diet, 
 in purity of Morals , and in fervency of devotion. 
 The Marquis of \^il!a, in clofmg his hfe of Taflb, 
 has enumerated al; the particular virtues by Avhich 
 he ^sa3 diftinguifiied; thefe ^vere all equally con- 
 fpicuous in Milton; and \\-e may truly fay of 
 him, what Manfo fays of the great Italian poet, 
 that the preference of virtue to every other con- 
 fideration was the predominant pafhon of his life. 
 Enthufiafm was the chara£ieriftic of his mind; 
 in politics, it made him fometimes too generoufly 
 credulous, and fometimes too rigoroufly deci- 
 five; but in poetry it exalted him to fuch a de- 
 gree of excellence as no man has hitherto fur- 
 paffed; nor is it probable that in this province 
 he will ever be excelled ; for although in all 
 the arts there are undoubtedly points of perfe£lion 
 much higher than any mortal has yet attained, flill 
 it requires fuch a coincidence of fo many advan- 
 tages depending on the influence both of nature 
 and of deftiny to raife a great artift of any kind, 
 that the world has but little reafon to expedl 
 productions of poetical genius fuperior to the Pa- 
 radife Loft. There was a bold yet refined ori- 
 ginality of conception, which characterized the 
 
 animated and beautiful addrefs to wedded love, which Milton 
 has copied with his ufual dignity and fweetnefs of expreflion. 
 
T II E L I F E O F M I L T O N. 24I 
 
 mental powers of Milton , and gives him the 
 higlicil claim to diil:in61ion : we are not only- 
 indebted to him for having extended and enno- 
 bled the province of epic poetry , but he has 
 another title to our regard, as the founder of 
 that recent and enchanting Engliih art, which 
 has embelliflied our country, and, to fpeak the 
 glovv^ing language of a living bard very eloquent 
 in its praife , 
 
 Made Albion fmile. 
 
 One ample theatre of fylvan grace. 
 
 Th.e elegant hiftorian of modern gardening, 
 Lord Orford , and the two accom])linied poets, 
 who have celebrated its charms both in France 
 and England, de Lille and-^Mafon, have, with 
 great jullice and felicity of exprefhon , paid their 
 homage to Milton , as the beneficent genius , who 
 beftowed upon the world this youngeft and nioft 
 lovely of the arts. As a contraft to the Miltonic 
 garden, I may point out to the notice of the 
 reader, what has efcaped , I think, all the lear- 
 ned writers on this engaging fubje61, the garden 
 of the imperious Duke of Alva, defcribed in a 
 poem of the celebrated Lope de Vega. The 
 fublime vifion of Even , as Lord Orford truly 
 calls it, proves indeed, as the fame writer ob- 
 ferves , ho^v little the poet fuffered from the lofs 
 of light. The native difpofition of Milton , and 
 
242 THE LIFE OF TNI I L T O N. 
 
 Jiis perfonal infirmity, confpired to make con- 
 templation his chief biifinefs and chief enjoy- 
 ment ; kw poets have devoted fo large a portion 
 of their time to intenfe and regular ftudy; yet 
 he often made a paufe of fome montlis in the 
 progrefs of his great work, if we may confide 
 in the circumftantial narrative of his nephew. '" I 
 had the perufal of it from the very beginning," 
 fays Philips, "• for fome years , as I went from 
 time to time to vifit him , in parcels of ten , 
 twenty, or thirty verfes at a time (which, being 
 written by whatever hand came next , might 
 po^hbly want correction as to the orthography 
 and pointing). Having, as the fummer came 
 on, not been fliowed any for a confiderable 
 while, and defiring the reafon thereof, was an- 
 fwered that his vein never happily flowed but 
 from the autumnal equinox to the vernal. " 
 
 Johnfon takes occahon , from this anecdote, 
 to treat the fenfations of Milton with farcaflic 
 feverity, and to deride him for fubmitting to the 
 influence of the feafons; he laviHies ridicule, not 
 lefs acrimonious, on the great poet, for having 
 yielded to a fafhionable dread of evils flill more 
 fantaftic. *'• There prevailed in his time (fays 
 the critic) an opinion that the world ^vas in its 
 decay, and that we have had the misfortune to be 
 born in the decrepitude of nature. " Johnfon ex- 
 pofes , with great felicity of expreffion, this ab- 
 furd idea, of which his own frame of body and 
 mind was a complete refutation ; but inflead of 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 243 
 
 deriding the great poet for harbouring To weak 
 a conceit, he might have recolletf^ed that Milton 
 himfelf has fpurned this chimera of timid ima- 
 gination in very fpirited Latin verfe, written in 
 his twentieth year, and exprefsly againft the folly 
 of fuppofmg nature impaired. 
 
 Ergone marc.;rcet , fulcantibus obfita rugis , 
 Narurs facies & rerum publica mater , 
 Omniparum contracia utcrum , llerilefcet ab kvo 
 Et le faila fenem male certis pafTibus ibit , 
 Sidereiim tremebunda caput! 
 
 How ! fhall the face of nature then be plough'd 
 Into deep wrinkles , and fhall years at lail 
 On the great parent fix a ileril curfe ; 
 Shall even fhe confefs old age , and halt 
 And palfy-fmitten fhake her ftarry brows ! 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 The fpirit of the poet was, in truth, little 
 formed for yielding to any weakneffes of fancy 
 that could imuede mental exertion ; and ^ve may 
 confider it as one of the ftriking peculiarities of 
 his character, that with, an imagination fo excur- 
 five he poffefled a mind fo induftrious. 
 
 His fludious habits are thus defcribed by his 
 acquaintance Aubrey and others, who colle6led 
 their account from his \vidow : — He rofe at 
 four in the fnmmer, at five in the winter, and 
 regularly began the day by hearing a chapter 
 
244 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 in the Hebrew Bible; it was read to him by a 
 man, v/ho , after this duty, left him to medi- 
 tation of feme hours, and, returning at feven , 
 either read or wrote for him till twelve; he 
 then allo^ved himfelf an hour for exercife , which 
 was ufuilly walking, and when he grew blind, 
 the occafional refource of a fwing : after an early 
 and temperate dinner he commonly allotted fome 
 time to mufic, his favorite amufement; and 
 his own mufical talents happily furniflied him. 
 with a pleafmg relaxation from his feverer 
 purfuits; he was able to vary his inflrument, 
 as he played both on the bafs viol and thq 
 organ , with the advantage of an agreeable 
 voice , which his father had probably taught 
 him to cultivate in his vouth. This regular cuf- 
 tom of the great poet, to indulge himfelf in mu- 
 ficnl relaxation afrer food, has been recently 
 praifed as favorable to mental exertion, in pro- 
 ducing all the good eflfecls of flecp , with none 
 of its difadvantiges , by an illultrious fcholar, 
 who, like Milton, unites the palhon and the ta- 
 lent of poetry to habits of intenfe and diverfihed 
 application. Sir William Jones, in the diird vo- 
 lume of Afiatic Refearches, has recommended , 
 from his own experience, this practice of Mil- 
 ton, who from mufic returned to ftudy; at eight 
 he took a light fupper, and at nine retired to bed. 
 If fuch extreme regularity could be preferved 
 at any period, it mufi: have been in the clohng 
 years of his life. While he was in office his time 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 245 
 
 was undoubtedly much engaged , not only by 
 official attendance, but by his intercourfe with 
 learned foreigners, as the parliament allowed him 
 a weekly table for their reception. The Latin 
 compofitions of Milton had rendered him, on 
 the continent, an obje^l of idolatry ; "- and ftrail- 
 gers (fays Wood , who was far from being par- 
 tial to his illuftrious contemporary) vifited the 
 houfe where lie was born. " Even in his latter 
 days , Avhen he is fuppofed to have been ne- 
 gle61ed by his countrymen, intelligent foreigners 
 were folicitous to converfe with him as an obje^l; 
 of their curiofity and veneration ; they regarded 
 him, and very juftly, as the prime wonder of 
 England ; for he was , in truth , a perfon fo ex- 
 traordinary, that it may be queflioned if any age 
 or nation has produced his parallel. Is there, 
 in the records of literature , an author to be 
 found, who, after gaining fuch extenfive cele- 
 brity as a political difputant , call off the mortal 
 vefture of a polemic, and arofe in the pureft 
 fplendor of poetical immortality? 
 
 Biographers are frequently accufed of being 
 influenced by affeflion for their fubje(^; to a cer- 
 tain degree it is right that they Ihould be fo 5 
 for what is biography in its faireft point of view? 
 a tribute paid by juftice and efleem to genius 
 and to virtue ; and never is this tribute more 
 pleafmg or more profitable to mankind , than 
 when it is liberally paid, with all the fervor and 
 all the fidelity of friendfhip : the chief delight 
 
QiS THE LIFE or M I L i O N. 
 
 and the chief utility that arifes from tliis attrac- 
 tive branch of hterature confifts in the afFedionate 
 intereft, which it difplays and communicates in 
 favor of the talents and probity that it afpires to 
 celebrate; hence the moft engaging pieces of bio- 
 graphy are thofe that have been written by re- 
 lations of the deceafed. This remark is exem- 
 plified in the life of Agricola by Tacitus, and 
 in that of Racine, the dramatic poet, written 
 by his fon , who, was alfo a poet, and addrefled 
 to his grand fon. 
 
 It has been the lot af Milton to have his life 
 frequently defcribed, and recently, by a very 
 powerful author, who, had he loved the cha- 
 rader he engaged to delineate, might, perhaps, 
 have fatisfied the admirers of the poet, and clofed 
 the lift of his numerous biographers. But the 
 very wonderful mind of Johnfon was fo embit- 
 tered by prejudice, that in delineating a cha- 
 racTler confeffediy pre-eminent in eminent accom- 
 pliihments, in genius, and in piety, he perpe- 
 tually endeavours to reprefent him as unamiable, 
 and inflead of attributing any miftaken opinions 
 that he might entertain to fuch fources as charity 
 and reafon confpire to fuggelt , imputes them to fup- 
 pofed vices in his mind, moft foreign to his nature, 
 and the very worft that an enemy could imagine. 
 
 In the conrfe of this narrative I have confi- 
 dered it as a duty incumbent upon me to no- 
 tice and countera(?t, as they occurred, many im- 
 portant flrokes of the hollilily which I am now 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. Q47 
 
 lamenting, thefe become fiill more remarkable in 
 that portion of the biograplier's labor to which 
 I am at length arrived ; it is in diITe£ting the mind 
 of Milton , if 1 may nfe fuch an exprefllon , that 
 Johnfon indulges the injurious intemperance of 
 his hatred. "• It is to be fufpe(fted (he fays) that 
 " his predominant defire was to deftroy rather 
 *' than efiablifli : and that he felt not fo much 
 *' the love of liberty as repugnance to authority." 
 Such a fufpicion may indeed he harboured by 
 political rancor, but it muft be in direct oppofi- 
 tion toljuflice and truth; for of all men who 
 have written or acled in the fervice of liberty , 
 there is no individual , who has proved more 
 completely, both by his language and his life, 
 that he made a perfecl diflinction between li- 
 berty and licentioufnefs. No human fpirit could 
 be more fmcerely a lover of jufi and beneficent 
 authority ; for no man delighted more in peace 
 and order; no man has written more eloquently 
 in their praife , or given fublimer proofs of his 
 own perlonal attachment to them by the regula- 
 tion of his own orderly and peaceful fludies. If 
 he hated power (as Johnfon alTerts in every ef- 
 tabliHied form, he hated not its falutary influ- 
 ence, but its pernicious exertions. Vehement as 
 he occafionally was againll kings and prelates, he 
 fpoke of the fe^laries with equal indignation and ab- 
 horrence when they alfo became the agents of per- 
 fecntion; and as he had fully feen, and has forcibly 
 expofed, the grofs failings of republican reformerSj 
 
Q^S THE LITE OF MILTON. 
 
 had his life been extended long enough to wit- 
 nefs the revolution, which he might have beheld 
 without fuffering the decrepitude or imbecility 
 of extreme old age, he would probably have 
 exulted as warmly as the ftauncheft friend of 
 our prefent conflitution can exult, in that tem- 
 perate and happy reformation of monarchical 
 enormities. 
 
 Johnfon alfo intimates, that he ^v•as a fhallow 
 politician, who fuppofcd money to be the chief 
 good, tiiough with hngular inconhflency he at 
 the fame time confeffes , " that fortune feems not 
 to have had much of his care. " 
 
 Money, in fa6t, had fo little influence over 
 the elevated mind of Milton, that from his want 
 of attention to it he fuflained fuch loffes as , ac- 
 cording to his nephew's exprefTion , "• might 
 have ruined a man lefs temperate than he was." 
 Two thoufand pounds he is faid to have loft by 
 intrufting it to government, and as much in a 
 private loan, without fufhcient fecurity. 
 
 " Towards tlie latter part of his time, " fays 
 one of his early biographers, " he contra<fled 
 his library, both becaufe the heirs he left could 
 not make a right ufe of it, and tliat he thought 
 he might fell it more to their advantage than 
 they could be able to do themfelves. His ene- 
 mies reported , that poverty conftrained him thus 
 to part with his books ; and were this true it 
 would be a great difgiace, not to him (for perlons 
 of the higheft merits have been often reduced to 
 
 that 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 249 
 
 that condition) but to any country that fhould 
 have no more regard to probity or learning. This 
 ftory, however, is fo falfe, that he died worth 
 fifteen hundred pounds , befides all his goods." 
 
 Such are the remarks of Toland on the pe- 
 cuniary circurnflances of the poet ; they ihow with 
 becoming fpirit, that he was not reduced by ab- 
 folute indigence to the fale of his library ; yet 
 every reader, whofe literary feelings are acute, 
 muft regret, that the old age of Milton was not 
 guarded and enlivened by fuch affluence as might 
 have faved him from a mealure, in which thofe 
 Avho have a paflion for books muft fuppofe him 
 to have fuffered fome degree of mortification. 
 
 The neceflities into which many deferving men 
 of letters have fallen towards the clofe of ]l[e , 
 and in various countries , may be regarded as an 
 univerfal difgrace to civilized fociety, which the 
 improving refinement and liberality of mankind 
 ought effectually to remove. Literature, which 
 is fo eminently beneficial to a nation, is frequently 
 ruinous to worthy individuals moft fervently at- 
 tached to it ; anxl it fhould be regarded as a duty, 
 therefore, by every polilhed people, to provide 
 a public fund, which might afford a becoming 
 competence to the advanced life of every illuftri- 
 ous fcholar, whofe public labors entitle him to 
 that honorable diftindion. Such meritorious ve- 
 terans in literature as Milton and his late a^ed 
 biographer Ihould have been preferved, in their 
 declining days, from every fliadow of indigence, 
 
 18 
 
2i« THE LIFE OF M i L 1 O N. 
 
 by the public gratitude of the nation to whom 
 they had devoted their intellectual {'ervice. What 
 friend to letters and to genius could fail to willi 
 afiluent comfort lo the doling hfe of fuch au 
 
 O 
 
 tiK.rs, however he might condemn tlie excefTes of 
 republican ieverity in the one. or thofe of fervile 
 and cenforial bigotry in the other? 
 
 There can hardiy be any contemplation more 
 painful 5 than to dwell on the virulent excefTes of 
 eminent and good men; yet the utiHty of fuch 
 contemplation may br- equal to its pain. What 
 mildnefs and candor iliould it not inllil into ordi- 
 nary mortals to obfcrve, that even genius and 
 virtue weaken their title to refpec^, in proportion 
 as they recede from that evangelical charity, 
 which, lliould influence every man in his judge- 
 ment of another. 
 
 The ftrength and the acutenefs of fenfation, 
 which partly conflitute genius, have a great ten- 
 dency to produce virulence; if the mind is not 
 perpetually on its guard againft that fubtle, in- 
 finuating, and corrofive paflion, hatred againft all 
 whofe opinions are oppohte to our own. John- 
 fon profefled , in one of his letters , to love a 
 opod hater; and in the Latin correfpondence of 
 Milton , there are words that imply a limilarity 
 offentiment; they both thought there might be 
 a fan6iified bitternefs, to ufe an exprelTion of 
 Milton, towards political and religious opponents; 
 yet furely thefe two devout men were both 
 wrong , and both in fome degree unchriftian in 
 
THE LITE OF MILTON. '25 1 
 
 this principle. To what lingular iniquities of 
 judgment fuch a principle may lead, we mi^^ht, 
 perhaps, have had a mod ftriking, and a double 
 proof, had it been pollible for theie two ener- 
 getic writers to exhibit alternately a portraic of 
 each other. Milton, adorned with every graceful 
 endowment, highly and holily accompliihed as 
 he was, appears, in the dark coloring of John- 
 fon, a mofl unamiable being; but could he re- 
 vifit earth in his rnortil charadler, wirli a wilh 
 to retaliate, what a pi(^lure might be drawn, by 
 that fublime and offended genius, of the great 
 moralifl, who has treated him wirh fuch excefs 
 of ^ifperity. The paffions are powerful colonlfs, 
 and marvellous adepts in the art of exaggeration 3 
 but the portraits executed by love (famous as he 
 is for overcharging them ) are infinitely more 
 faithful to nature , than gloomy fketches from 
 the heavy hand of liatred ; a paflion not to be 
 trulted or indulged even in minds of the higheft 
 purity or power; hnce hatred, though it may 
 enter the field of conteft under the banner of 
 juftice , yet generally becomes fo blind and out- 
 rageous , from the heat of contention, as to 
 execute, in the name of virtue, the worft pur- 
 pofes of vice : Hence arifes that fpecies of ca- 
 lumny the moft to be regretted , the calumny 
 laviflied by men of talents and worth on their 
 ef[uals or fuperiors, whom they have raihly and 
 blindly hated for a difference of opinion. To 
 fuch hatred the fervid and oppofite chara^lers. 
 
'252 THE LIFE OF M 1 L 1 O N. 
 
 ivlio gave rife to t}]i? obfervation , v/ere both 
 more inclined . ptrliaps. by nanire and by habit, 
 than chriltianity ran allow. The freedom of tliefe 
 remarks on two very qrear , and equally devout, 
 though different writers, may poilibly offend the 
 partifans of both : in tint cafe my confolation 
 -will be. tnat I have endeavoured to fpeak of 
 them Avith rl^at temperate, though undaunted 
 iincerity. which may fatisfy the fpirit of each in 
 a purer flate of exilience. There is one charac- 
 teijilic oi. ivlilton, Avhicli ought to be confidered 
 as the chiel: foiu'ce ol Iiis happinefs and his fame; 
 I mean his early and perpetual attachment to re- 
 iigio]i. It n\uil gratify every Chriftian to rcfleft, 
 that the man of our counrry mofl eminent for 
 energy of mind , for iuteiifenefs of application , 
 and lor franknef> and intrepidity in afferting what- 
 ever he believed to be tiie caufe of truth , ^vas 
 fo conhrmedly devoted to chriOaanity, that he 
 feem? to have made the Bible, not only the rule 
 of l]is condudi, but the prime dire^ior of his 
 genius. Ilisj^oetry flowed from the fcripture, as 
 if his unparalleled poetical powers had been ex- 
 prtlirly given him by Heaven for the purpofe of 
 imparting to religion fuch luffre as the molt 
 fplendid of human faculties could beAow. As 
 in tlie Paradife Loft he feems to emulate the fub- 
 limity of ?vIofes and the propliets, it appears to 
 have been his wifli . in the Paradife Regained, to 
 copy the fweetnefs and fimplicity of the milder 
 frvaniitliits. If the iutile remarks that were made 
 
THE LIFE or MILTON. 2j3 
 
 Upon the latter Avork , on its firft appearance, 
 exciti d the fpleen of the great author, he ^vonld 
 prob; bly have felt ftill more indignant, could he 
 have {^een the comment of Warburton. That dif- 
 guftii.g writer, whofe critical dictates form a fan- 
 taftic medley of arrogance, acutenefs, and abfiu-- 
 dity. has aiierted , that the plan of Paradife Re- 
 gained is very unhappy, and that nothing was 
 eafier than to have invented a good one. 
 
 Much idle cenfure feems to have been thrown 
 on more than one of Milton's poetical works, 
 from want of due attention to the chief aim 
 of the poet : — if we fairly confider it in re- 
 gard to Paradife Regained, the aim I allude ro , 
 as it probably occahoned , \viil completely jiif- 
 tify , the plan which the prefumptuous critic has 
 fo fupercilioufly condemned. Milton liad alrcndy 
 executed one extenlive divine poem . peculiirly 
 diftinguiflied by riclniefs and fublimity of defcrij)- 
 tion ; in framing a fecond , he would natr.rally 
 wifli to vary its effect; to mal.e it rich in moral 
 fentiment, and fublime in it^ mode of uurolding 
 the hi^heft wifdora that man can learn; for this 
 purpofe it was necelfary to keep ail the orna- 
 mental parts of the poem in due fubordination 
 to the preceptive. This delicate and difficult 
 point is accompliflied with fuch felicity, they are 
 blended together with fuch exquifite harmony 
 and mutual aid, that inflead of arraigning the 
 plan , we mi^ht rather doubt if anv poHible 
 change could improve it; affuredly, there is no 
 
q54 
 
 THE LIFE OF .AI I L T O N. 
 
 poem of epic form , where the fublimeft moral 
 inflriiflion is fo forcibly and abundantly united 
 to poetical delight : the fplendor of the poet 
 does not blaze, indeed, fo intenfely as in his 
 larger produdion ; here he refembles the Apollo 
 of Ovid , foftening his glory in fpeaking to his 
 fon , and avoiding to dazzle the fancy . that he 
 may defcend into the heart. His dignity is not 
 impaired by his tendernefs. The Paradife Re- 
 gained is a poem , that deferves to be peculiarly 
 recommended to ardent and ingenuous youth, as 
 it is admirably calculated to infpire that fpirit of 
 felf-command , which is, as Milton efteemed it, 
 thetrueft heroifm, and the triumph of chriflianity. >i 
 
 It is not my intention to enter into a critical 
 analyfis of the beauties and the blemilhes that 
 are vifible in the poetry of iMilton, not only be- 
 caufe Addifon and Johnfon have both written 
 admirably on his greatefl work, but becaufe my 
 mofl excellent friend, the poet (whofe fpirit I 
 efleem mofl congenial to that oi: Milton) is enga- 
 ged in fuch illuftration of his honored predeceffor; 
 I fliall therefore confine myfelf to a fmgle effay, 
 detciched from this narrative, under the title of 
 " Conjectures on the Origin of the Paradife 
 Loft." 
 
 I muft not, however, omit to fpeak here, as 
 I have engaged to do , of the chara^er beflowed 
 by Johnfon on the principal performance of the 
 poet; the greateft part of that characler is, per- 
 haps, the moft fplendid tribute that was ever paid 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. 255 
 
 by one powerful mind to another. Ariftotle , 
 Longiiius, and Quintillan, have not fpoken of 
 their favorite Homer -with more magnificence of 
 praife; yet the chara6ier, taken altogether, is a 
 golden image, that has lower parts of iron and 
 of clay. The critic feems to prepare a diadem 
 of the richefl. jewels; he places them, mod libe- 
 rally, on the head of the poet; but in the mo- 
 ment of adjufting his radiant gift, he breathes" 
 upon it fnch a vapor of fpleen, as almofl annihi- 
 lates its luftre. 
 
 After difplaying, in the noblefl manner, many 
 of the peculiar excellencies in the poem, he fays, 
 " its perufal is a duty rather than a pleafure ; we 
 read Milton for inlh'u61ion, retire harallcd and 
 overburdened, and look elfewlicre (or recre.i- 
 tion; we defert our mafter, and feek for com- 
 panions." 
 
 Injurious as tiiele remarks are to the pott, 
 let us afcribe them, not to the virulence of in- 
 tended detra£iion , but to the want of poeticil 
 fenfibility in the critic; a A\ant that may be lut- 
 ficiently proved , by comparing this account of 
 the effedt produced by Par?.dife Loft on his own 
 feelings with its eifecft on a fpirit truly poetical. 
 That enchanting poem, The Tafk, very hap});iy 
 furnilhes fnch an iilnftration ; it is thus that a 
 mind attuned by nature to poetry defcribes the 
 eiTe£l in queftion, as produced even in childhood. 
 
 Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms 
 New to my tafte; his Paradiie furpaffed 
 
256 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 The ftriiggling efforts of my boyifh tongue 
 To fpeak its excellence : I danc'd for joy." 
 
 But the little delight that Johnfon confefTes 
 himfelf to have taken in the poetry of Milton 
 was rather his misfortune than his fault; it me- 
 rits pity more than reproach, as it partly arofe 
 from conftitutional infelicity, and the very wide 
 diflerence between the native turn of his mind 
 and that of the poet : never were two fpirits lefs 
 congenial, or two chriflian fcholars, who differed 
 more completely in their fentiments of poetry, 
 politics, and religion. In temperament, as well 
 as in opinions, they were the reverfe of each other; 
 the one was fanguine to excefs, the other melan- 
 choly in the extreme. Milton 
 
 " Migjit fit in the centre and enjoy bright day;" 
 but Johnfon , 
 
 " Benighted walk'd under the mid-day fun; 
 " Himfelf was his own dungeon. " 
 
 Such was the great contraft between thefe two 
 extraordinary men , that although they were both 
 equally hncere in their attachment to chriflianity, 
 and both diftinguiihed by noble intelledlual exer- 
 tions in the fervice of mankind , the critic was na- 
 turally difqualified from being a fair and a per- 
 fect jiJ^^ge of the poet. My regard for a departed 
 
THE LITE or M T L T O N. 25; 
 
 and meritorions writer (of great po^vers, bnt con- 
 ftitiitionally unhappy) is fnch , that I Avould ra- 
 ti, er afcribe to any caufe, than to mere envious 
 ir.ahgnity, his outrages againfi the poetical glory 
 of Milton , which from the force and celebrity of 
 the very admirable but too auftere work tliat 
 contains tliem , it becomes the duty of a more 
 recent biographer to expofe. 
 
 For example, when Johnfon fays that Milton 
 " wrote no language, but formed a Babylonifh 
 diale6^, harJli and barbarous," though it would 
 be difficult to pronounce a critical cenfure more 
 bitter or more injurious, we may impute it^ 
 not to a malevolent defire of depreciating the 
 poet, but to a natural want of ear for tliat har- 
 mony, which the critic condemns as difcord. On 
 this article, the mofl harmionious of our bards 
 has been very happily vindicated by men of 
 fcience and tafle. Dr. Fofler and Lord Mon- 
 boddo have iliown Milton to be one of the moft 
 confummate artificers of language, that ever gave 
 either energy or grace to words; and Mr. Loft , 
 in the preface to his recent edition of Paradife 
 Loft, defcribes the majeftic flow of his numbers 
 with fuch truth and eloquence, as render ample 
 juftice to the infulted dignity of the poet. 
 
 The infult, grofs as it may be thought, lofes 
 much of its force when we recolledl the incon- 
 fiftency of the critic, who, though in his latter 
 work he condemns the language of Milton us 
 harfli and barbarous, had before obferved, with 
 
258 THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 more trnth , in the Rambler, that the poet '* ex- 
 celled as much in the lower as in the hig'n^r 
 parts of his art, and that his fKill in harniony 
 was not lefs than his invention or his learnina;" 
 but the praife as Avell as the cenfure of Johnfon, 
 on this article, could not be the refult of per- 
 fe(^ perception , for the monotony of his o'vn 
 blank verfe, and fome of his remarks in the Ram- 
 bler on particular lines of Milton, are flriling 
 proofs, that although he '.vas a melodious Avriter 
 liimfelf in the common meafures of rhyme, and 
 in dignified profe , yet he never entered \vith 
 perfect intelligence and feeling into the mufical 
 graces of Miltonic compofition ; he wns , indeed, 
 as far from enjoying the poet's ear for tlie varied 
 modulation and exrenfive compifs of metri-.-al 
 harmony, as he was from pofTeffing tlie mild tle- 
 gance of his manners, or the cheerful elevation 
 of his mind. 
 
 There is a ftriking refemblance between the 
 poetical and the moral chara61er of Milton; they 
 were both the refult of the fineft difpofirions for 
 the attainment of excellence that nature could 
 beftow, and of all the advantage^; that ardor atid 
 perfeverance in fludy and dilicipline could add, 
 in a long conrfe of years , to the beneficent pro- 
 digality of nature : even in infancy he difco- 
 vered a pafhon for glory; in youth he was at- 
 tached to temperance; and, arriving at man- 
 hood, he formed the magnanimous defign of 
 building a lofty name upon the moft folid and 
 fecure foundation. 
 
THE L I 1" E OF >^ I L T O N. « ^9 
 " He all his {\:ui\ bent 
 
 To woidiip G0.I alight, and know his works 
 
 Not hid ; nor thole things laft that might prefervc 
 
 Freedom and peace to men. 
 
 In a noble confcionrnefs of his powers and in- 
 tentions, he \vas not aliaid to give, in his early 
 life, a moft fmgular prornire to his country of 
 prudticing fuch future works as might redound 
 to her glory ; and though fuch perfbnal cala- 
 mities fell upon him , as might fairly have ab- 
 folved him from that engagement, yet never was 
 any promife more magnihcenrly fulfilled, Seneca 
 has confidered a man of refolution flruggling with 
 adverfity as a fpe61acie worthy of God; our re- 
 folute countryman not only ftruggled with ad- 
 verfity, but, under a peculiar load of compli- 
 cated calamities, he accompliihed thofe works, 
 that are jufliy reckoned among the noblefl: ofT- 
 fpring of human genius. In this point of view, 
 with what pathetic grandeur is the poet invefled. 
 In contemplating the variety of his fufferings, 
 and his various mental achievements, we may 
 declare , without any extravagance of praife , 
 that although fublimity is the predominant cha- 
 ra^icriflic of Milton's poem, his own perfonal cha- 
 racter is ftill more fubhme. 
 
 Ilis majeftic pre eminence is nobly defcribed 
 in the following verfes of Akenfide , a poet who 
 bore fome affinity to Milton in tlie ardor of 
 his mind , whofe fentiments are always noble, 
 
26o THE LIFE OF MILTON. 
 
 though not always accompanied by a graceful fe- 
 licity of expreflion. 
 
 Mark how the dread Pantheon ftands 
 Amid the domes of modern ban 's, 
 Amid the toys of idle ftate. 
 How fimply , how feverely great ! 
 Then turn, and while each weftern clime 
 Prcfents her tuneful Tons to time , 
 So mark thou Milton's name, 
 And add, thus differs from the throng 
 The fpirit which inform'd thy auFi.l fong, 
 Which bade thy potent voice protedt thy country's 
 fame. 
 
 The po\vers of Milton, indeed, are fo irre- 
 fiflible, that even thofe, whom the blindners of 
 prejudice has rendered his enemies, are conftrain- 
 ed to regard him as an object of admiranon. 
 In this article poflerity , to ^vhom he made a 
 very interefting appeal , has done him ample 
 jnrtice; ftill he is more admired rhan beloved; 
 yet in granting him only admiration, we ungene- 
 roufly withhold the richefl; half of that poft- 
 humous ^e^vard for which lie labored fo fer- 
 vently : we may be confident that he rather 
 wifiied to excite the affe£lion than the applaufe 
 of mankind; and affuredly he has the nobleft 
 title to both, the title of having exerted fuperlative 
 genius and literary ambition , under the conAant 
 influence of religious philantropy. In proportion 
 
THE LiFE OF MILTON. q6i 
 
 as our country has advanced in purity of tafle, 
 Ihe has applauded the poet; and in proportion 
 as {he advances in liberality of fentiment, lliewill 
 love the man ; but love in this a{pe^ is more 
 volatile than admiration , and a beneficent ge- 
 nius may be eafily deprived of it by the detrac- 
 tion of an enemy, or the miftake of a friend: 
 Milton has fuffered not a little from both; and 
 indeed , if one Angular miftake of his friends 
 ihould prevail , he could hardly become an ob- 
 jed of general affection. What votary of the 
 Mules could love a poet , however excellent in 
 that capacity , who reprefented it as a crime in a 
 captive monarch to have made the poetry of 
 Shakelpeare the companion of his folitude? Cre- 
 dulity has imagined that Milton Avas fuch a bar- 
 barous Goth. Nor is this the fuggeflion of his 
 enemies; even VVarton , the liberal defender of 
 his poetical reputation , and feveral living writers 
 of eminence, have lavilhed their cenfures on Mil- 
 ton , from a too hafty belief, that puritanical 
 prejudices had hurried him into this rancorous 
 abfurdity. 
 
 Their cenfures are all founded on a miftake; 
 but the merit of corre(Sling it belongs not to 
 me; Mr. Waldron, the fenfible and modeft edi- 
 tor of a mifcellany, entitled. The Literary Mu- 
 feum , in a note to Rofcius Anglicanus, has, in 
 a very liberal manner, colle6ied and refuted the 
 charges againft Milton on this point, and abun- 
 dantly proved , thit inltead of cenfuring the 
 
Q6a THE L I F E O F INI I L T O N. 
 
 unfortunate Charles for amufmg himfelf with 
 Shakefpeare, he only cenfnred him for imitating 
 the reHgious hypocrify of Richard the Third fo 
 clofely as to utter the very fentimeiits that are 
 afPigned to Richard in the page of the dra- 
 matic poet. 
 
 Milton, undoubtedly thought, what an ar- 
 dent political writer of the prefent n^e has not 
 fcrupled to aflert, that " Charles the Firfl: lived 
 and died an hypocrite." Thefe two acute judges 
 of mankind were, I believe, miflaken in this 
 idea : it leems more probable, that this unfor- 
 tunate prince was flattered into a perfuafion, that 
 he was really the meritorious martyr his adhe- 
 rents endeavoured to reprefent him. But what- 
 foever his genuine character might be, the fevere 
 fentiments which Milton entertained of the 
 king, and the delufive hopes that he cherilhed of 
 the protestor, had equally their fource in the 
 virtuous ardor of his o\vn fpirit. The confciouf- 
 nefs of his integrity, when time had fully un- 
 veiled to him fome illufions, gave that tranquil- 
 lity and vigor to his declining days, which ena- 
 bled him to produce his aftonilhing poems, not 
 more aftonifhing for their intrinfic merit, than 
 for the period of their production 5 fo that his 
 poetry, in this point of view, may be regarded 
 both as the offspring and the witnefs of his virtue. 
 The world had never been enriched with his tAvo 
 poems on Paradife, if their great author , when he 
 was, according to his own true and pathetic 
 dtfcription, 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. q63 
 
 " In darknefs and with dangers coinpafs'd round. " 
 
 had notj in fome little degree, refembled the hero 
 of his Litter poeni , and like that hallowed per- 
 fonage, whom he delineates fo divinely, amid 
 the darknefs and the fiends of the defert, 
 
 " Sat unappall'd in calm and finlefs peace." 
 
 Yet to fuch mifteprefentations has the life and 
 the poetry of Milton been expofed , that both 
 have been confidered as too auftere to be amiable, 
 though affnredly, both in the one and the other, 
 the moft engaging qualities are admirably united 
 to the moft awefui — the graceful and the tender 
 to the grand and the fublime. 
 
 The attra6iions of his mufe have triumphed 
 over obloquy, and in the eftimation of the 
 world llie is juftly thought to refembl^ thf en- 
 chanting Eve of the poet, 
 
 — . — - Adorn'd 
 With what all earth or heav'n could beftow 
 To make her amiable. 
 
 But equal juftice has not hitherto been ren- 
 dered to the perfonal virtues of the author; it 
 has, therefore, been my chief aim, in a deli- 
 neation of his life , to make Milton rather more 
 beloved than more admired j and I may the more 
 reafonably hope to fucceed in that idea , becaufe, 
 though I have never been attached to his poli- 
 tical opinions, yet, in proportion to my refear- 
 ches into his chara(rter as a man, h^ has advanced 
 iji my efteem and my affection. 
 
204 THE L I !• E O F M 1 L T (> N. 
 
 I lament that the necefhty of invcftigating many 
 tnifreprefentations, and of correcting much sfpe- • 
 rity againft him , has frequently obliged me to 
 fpeak rather in the tone of an advocate, than of 
 a common biographer; but I may fay, in the 
 words of the great Roman author, pleading the 
 caufe of a poet infinitely lefs entitled to love and 
 admiration; Hunc ego non diligam, non admirer, 
 non omni ratione defendendum putem ? Atque 
 fic a fummis hominibns eruditiflimifque accepi- 
 mns, Cieterarum rerum ftudia & doCirina, & prae- 
 ceptis, 8c arte conftare ; poetam natura ipfa va- 
 lere , & mentis viribus excitari , & qnafi divine 
 quodam fpiritu afllari — ^if poetical powers may 
 ever delerve to be regarded as heavenly infpira- 
 tion . fnch undoubtedly were thofe of Milton , 
 and the ufe to which he applied tliem ^vas wor- 
 thy of the fountain w-lieiice they flo^ved. He is 
 pre-eminent in that clafs of poets, very happily 
 defcribed in the two following verfes by the amia- 
 ble lord Falkland ; 
 
 Who, while of heav'n the glories they recite, 
 Find it within , and feel the joys they write. 
 
 It is by the epic compofitions of Milton alone 
 that England may efteem herfelf as a rival to an- 
 tiquity in the higheft province of literature; and 
 it appears therefore juft, that the memory of the 
 man, to whom flie is indebted for the pnreft , 
 the moft extenfive, and permanent glory, ihotild 
 for ever excite her affectionate veneration. 
 
 CONJECTURES 
 
CONJECTURES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 ORIGIN 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PARADISE LOST. 
 
 19 
 
C O N J E C T U R E S, Sec. 
 
 CONJECTURES, FANCIES BUILT ON NOTHING FIRM! 
 
 MILTOS. 
 
 o write an Epic Poem was the prime object 
 of Milton's ambition at an early period of life; 
 a paffionate attachment to his country made him 
 hrft think of celebrating its ancient heroes; but in 
 the long interval between the dawn of fuch a 
 proie(^ in his thoughts, and the commencement 
 of his Avork , a new train of images got poffeffion 
 of his fancy; Arthur yielded to Adam, and Eng- 
 land to Paradife. 
 
 To confider what various caufes might con- 
 
 o 
 
 Ipire to produce this revolution in the ideas of 
 the great poet may be a pleafing fpeculation , if 
 it is purfued with due refpe^ to the noble mind 
 that it afpires to examine. 
 
 An inveftigation of a fimilar nature was un- 
 dertaken fome years ago , upon very different 
 principles, when a fm^ular attempt was made to 
 annihilate the poetical glory of Milton, by prov- 
 ing him a plagiary. This attempt was fo extra- 
 ordinary -in its nature, and in its end fo honorable 
 
q68 conjegtukes on the origin 
 
 to the poet and his country , that a brief account 
 otitlhould, I think, be annexed to the Life of 
 Milton 5 whofe admirers may fay, on that occa- 
 fion , to the fianderers of genius , 
 
 *' Difcite juftitiam moniti, & non temnere divos." 
 
 I lliall give, therefore, a fkelch of the literary 
 tranfaclions to which I allude , as an introduc- 
 tion to thofe conje61ures , that a long and affec- 
 tionate attachment to Milton has led me to 
 form, concerning; the origin of his greateft work. 
 
 In 1746 5 William Lauder, an unfortunate 
 adventurer, whom a furious temper, conliderable 
 learning, and greater indigence, converted into 
 an audacious impollor, attacked the originality 
 of the chief Engliih poet. Having afferted , in a 
 pei-iodical mifcellany, that Milton had borrowed 
 all his ideas from tlie juvenile work of Grotius, 
 or from other lefs known writers of Latin verfe, 
 and finding the novelty of his charge attract the 
 attention of the public, he endeavoured to en- 
 force it in a pamphlet, entitled, "• An Effay on 
 Milton's Ufe and Imitation of the Moderns , " 
 printed in i75o, and addreiTed to the two uni- 
 veriities of Oxford and Cambridge. In the clofe 
 of this effay he fcrupled not to fay of Milton : . 
 
 " His induftrious concealment of his helps, 
 *' his peremptory difclaiming all manner of af- 
 *' fifiance, is highly ungenerous, nay criminal 
 " to the laft degree, and abfolutely unworthy of 
 
i 
 
 OF THE PARADISE LOST. qGq 
 
 " any man of common probity and honor. By 
 ** this mean praclice, indeed, he has acquired 
 " the title of the Britifli Homer, nay, has been 
 " preferred to Homer and Virgil both , and con- 
 " fequently to every other poet of every age and 
 *' nation. Cowley, Waller, Denham , Dryden , 
 " Prior, Pope, in comparifon with Milton, 
 " have borne no greater proportion , than that 
 *' of dwarfs to a giant, who, now he is reduced 
 *' to his true flandard , appears mortal and 
 " uninfpired, and in ability little fuperior to the 
 *' poets above-mentioned, but in honeHy and 
 " open dealing, the beft cjuality of the human 
 " mind, not inferior, perhaps, to the moft un- 
 " licenfed plagiary that ever wrote." 
 
 In a publication, containing ///c7z language, 
 Lauder was able to engage the great critic and 
 moralift, Samuel Johnfon , as his confederate; 
 for the preface and poilfcript to the P^fiay, from 
 which the preceding paragraph is cited, are con- 
 fefledly the compohtion of that elaborate and 
 nervous writer. 
 
 This confederacy, unbecoming as it may at 
 firft appear, will, on candid refle^iion , feem 
 rather a credit than a difarace to Johnfon; for 
 we certainly ought to believe that the primary 
 motive , which prompted him to the aihilance 
 of Lauder, was that true and noble companion 
 for indigence , which made him through life fo 
 generoufly willing to afford all the aid in his 
 power to literary mendicants ; but in rendering 
 
«70 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 juftice to that laudable charily, which he con- 
 ftantly exercifed to the iiecefTitous , we cannot 
 fail to obferve , that his malevolent prejudices 
 againfl; Milton were equally vifible on this fignal 
 occafion. Had he not been under the influence 
 of fuch prejudice, could his llrong underRanding 
 have, failed to point out to his affociafe , what 
 a liberal monitor very juilly obferved to Lauder, 
 in convidling him of fraud and falihood, that, 
 allowing his fails to have been true, his infe- 
 rence from them was unfair. Lauder, with an 
 unexampled audacity of impofture, had corrupt- 
 ed the text of the poets , whom he produced 
 as evidence againfl Milton, by interpolating feve- 
 ral verfes, which he had taken from a nealeciled 
 Latin tranflation of the Paradife Loft. Expelling 
 probably to efcape both difcovery and fufpicionby 
 the daring novelty of his deception, and the mental 
 dignity of his patron and coadjutor, he exulted in 
 the idea of blafting the laurels of Milton ; but thofe 
 laurels were proof, indeed, againft the furious and 
 repeated flaOiesof malevolence and hoflility. More' 
 thanone defence of the injured poet appeared; the 
 firft, I believe, was a pamphlet by Mr. Richard- 
 fon , of Clare Hall, printed in 1747, and enti- 
 tled Zoilomaftix, or, a Vindication of Milton, 
 confifiing of letters inferted in the mifcellany, 
 where the charge of Lauder had made its firft 
 appearance ; but the complete overthrow of that 
 impoftor was accompliflied by Dr. Douglas, the 
 prefent bifliop of Salifbury , who publifhed, in 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 27 1 
 
 1750, a letter addrefTed to Lord Bath, with 
 the title of " Milton vindicated from the Charge 
 of Plagiarifm;" a performance that, in many- 
 points of view, may be regarded as a real honor 
 to literature — it unites what we find ver^'^ rarely 
 united in literary contention , great modefty with 
 great fervor ; and magnanimous moderation with 
 the feverity of vindictive juftice. The author 
 fpeaks with amiable liberality of Mr. Bowie , 
 in faying, "" that gentleman had firft colle6ied 
 *' materials for an anfwer to Lauder, " and 
 " has the juftefl claim to the honor of being 
 " the original detector of this ungenerous critic." 
 The writer of this valuable pamphlet gave alfo 
 an admonition to Johnfon , which breathes the 
 manly fpirit of intelligence, of juftice, and of 
 candor, " It is to be hoped (he faid) nay it is 
 " to be expecied , that the elegant and nervous 
 " writer, whofe judicious fentiments and inimi- 
 " table ftyle point out the author of Lauder's 
 *' preface and poftfcript , will no longer allow 
 " one to plume himfelf ^vith his feathers, who 
 " appeareth fo little 4:o have deferved hi^ afhft- 
 " ance ; an afTiftance \vhich, I am perfuaded, 
 *' would never have been communicated had 
 *' there been the leaft fufpicion of thofe fadls , 
 *' which I have been the inftrument of con- 
 " veyfng to the world in thefe Iheets, a perufal 
 *' of which will fatisfy our critic, who was plea- 
 " fed to fubmit his book to the judgment of the 
 " two univerfities , that it has been examined 
 
27*2 CONJtCfUUr^S ON THEORIGIN 
 
 *' and carefully read at leafl by fome members 
 " of the univerfity of Oxford. " The defence of 
 Milton, which I have mentioned, by Mr. Rich- 
 ardfon, proves alfo, for the honor of Cambridge, 
 that her men of letters were by no means defi- 
 cient in fuch regard , as they pecuh'arly owe to 
 the reputation of the poet, who " flames in the 
 van" of the poetical hoft, which has contributed 
 to her renown. 
 
 When the pamphlet of Dr. Douglas had com- 
 pletely unveiled the moft impudent of literary 
 frauds, Johnfon , whom his prejudice againit 
 Milton could no longer render blind to the un- 
 worthinefs of Lauder, recoiled from the wretch 
 whom he had too creduloufly befriended, and 
 finding him as deficient in the truth of fac^s as 
 he was in propriety of fentiment, and decency 
 of language, made him addrefs to his anta^onift, 
 who had convi61ed him of fome forgeries, an 
 ample avowal of more extenfive fraud, and a 
 mofi: humble fupplication for pardon. This ex- 
 piatory addrefs was di61:ated by Johnfon , whofe 
 conduct on the occafion was manly and ir;oral — 
 but it failed to correal his affociate, for preju- 
 dice againft Milton in Lauder arofe almoft to 1 
 madnefs; in Johnfon it amounted only to a de- 
 gree of malevolence , too commonly produced 
 by political difagreement; it had induced him to 
 cherilh too eagerly a detra61iv^e deception , la- 
 bricated to fink an illufcrious charadler , without 
 allowing himfelf the due excrcife of his keen 
 
OF 1 H E PARADISE LOST. 273 
 
 undcrftanding to invedi^atc irs faHhood , or to 
 perrtivi; its al^furdity. Lauder fecms to have 
 hoped, for lonie time, tliat a full conleiiion of 
 liis >ift;nces would reflore him to the favor of tlie 
 public; for iti the year jy^i he ventured to jiub- 
 lilli an apoioiy, addreiled to "-the ArchbilLop of 
 Canterbury, folicitiPxg patronage for his projcdcd 
 edition of th.e fcarce Latin amjiors, from whom 
 he had accufed Milton of borrowing. Tlie chief 
 purpofe of fo extraordinary an attack on the re- 
 nown of the poet, appears to have been a defire , 
 prompted by indigence, to mterefl the public in 
 the re - appearance of thefe negle£ied writers, 
 whom he meant to republilh. In clofnm liis 
 apology to the Archbifliop , he fays, with imgn- 
 lar confidence: 
 
 "• As ior the interpolations (for which I am fo 
 " highly blamed) when paflion is fubhdcd, and 
 " the minds of men can patiently attend to truth, 
 " 1 promife amply to replace them, with pai- 
 " fages ecjuivalent in value that are genuine, that 
 " the public may be convinced that it was ra- 
 *' ther padion and refentment, than a penury of 
 " evidence, the twentieth part of which has not 
 " as yet been produced-, that obliged me to 
 " make ufe of them." 
 
 He printed the colle6iion of Latin poets as he 
 propofed, one ^'olume in 175q, and a fecond in 
 1733. The book may be regarded as a literary 
 curiofity, bTit it feems to have contributed little 
 to the emolument of its miferable editor, who 
 
Q74 CONJECTUllES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 had thoroughly awakened univerfal indignation; 
 and as Dr. Douglas obferved, in a poflfcript to 
 his pamphlet, reprinted in 1756, " The curiofity 
 " of the public to fee any of thefe poems was 
 " at an end ; the only thing which had ftamped 
 " a value upon them, was a fuppofition that Mil- 
 " ton had thought them worthy of his imitation. 
 " As therefore it now appeared , by the detedion 
 *' of Lauder's fyftem of forgery, that Milton had 
 " not imitated them, it is no ^vonder that the 
 " defign of reprinting them fliould meet with 
 " little or no fuccefs." 
 
 The affertion of this learned and amiable 
 writer, that Milton had not imitated thefe poets, 
 is not to be underftood in a ftri6f and liberal 
 fenfe ; for affnredly there are paifages in fome of 
 them that Milton may be liiirly fuppofed to have 
 copied , though his obligations to ihefe Latin 
 poets are very far from being confiderable ; and 
 had they been infinitely greater , the inference 
 drawn by the malevolent reviler of Milton would 
 flill have been prepofLcroufly fevere. 
 
 The detected flanderer was foon overwhelmed 
 with the utter contempt he deferved ; but, con- 
 temptible as he was , the memory of his offences 
 and of his puniflmient ought to be preferved , 
 not fo much for the honor of Milton , as for 
 the general intereft of literature, that if the world 
 can produce a fecoad Lauder , he may not hope 
 for impunity. 
 
OF T H P. PARADISE LOST. CtJ !i 
 
 Pnrt of his fuhfequent hiAory is related in the 
 foliowing words by Dr. Bonglas: 
 
 " Grown defpenite by his difcjppointment, this 
 very rnan . whom but a little before we liave feeii 
 as abject in the confcflion of his forgeries, a« he 
 had beeti bold in tlie contrivance of them, witfi 
 an incoiififtence, ecjualled only by his impu- 
 dence, rene\s'ed his attack upon the author 
 of the Paradife Loft, and in a pamphlet, pp.b- 
 lifhed lor that purpofe , acquainted the world, 
 that the true reafon which had excited him 
 to contrive his forgery was, becaufe Milton 
 had attacked the characfter of Charles the Firft , 
 by interpolating Pamela's prayer from the Ar- 
 cadia, in an Edition of the Eicon Bafilike: 
 hoping, no doubt, by this curious key to h.is 
 condu(ft, to be received into favor, if not by 
 the friends of truth , at Icalt by the idolaters 
 of the royal martyr — the zeal ofthisAvild party- 
 man againft Milton having at the fame time 
 extended itfelf againft his biographer, the very 
 learned Dr. Birch , for no other reafon but 
 becaufe he was fo candid as to exprefs his 
 difl^elief of a tradition unfupported bv evi- 
 dence. " 
 
 Were it requifite to give new force to the 
 many proofs of that malignant prejudice afrainft 
 Milton in a late writer, which I have had too 
 frequent occafion to examine and regret, fucli 
 force might be drawn from the words juft cited 
 from Dr. Douglas. That gentleman here informs 
 
Q 7 & CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN. 
 
 US , that Lauder clire6ied his intemperate zeal 
 againft Dr. Birch, for rejeding the ill-fupported 
 fiory tliat reprefented Milton as an impoftor , 
 concerned in forging the remarkable prayer of 
 the king. Yet Johnfon imgeneroufly labored to 
 fix this fufpicion of difnonefly on the great cha- 
 ra6fer vvhofe life he delineated , by infmuating 
 that Dr. Birch believed the very flory, which 
 Lauder reviled liim for having candidly reje6^ed. 
 Is it not too evident from this circumftance , that 
 Lauder's intemperate hatred of Alilton had in 
 fome degree infecied his noble coadjutor? though 
 he very jnfUy difcarded that impoftor, when con- 
 vi61ed of forgery, after writing for Jiim a fuppli- 
 catory confelhoii of his fraud, for which he was 
 after\vards cenfured by the half-frantic offender, 
 who, finding that it procured him no favor from 
 the public, declared it infinitely top general and 
 too abject for the occafion. 
 
 The malevolence of Johnfon towards the great 
 poet has been reprefented as a mere fiction of 
 party rage, acrimonioufly reviling an illufirious 
 biographer : but inftead of being an injurious 
 hcfion of that evil fpirit, it is a reality univerfally 
 felt, and hncerily lamented by thofe lovers of 
 literature , wlio , being exempt from all party 
 rage themfelves, would willingly annihilate the 
 influence of that inlidious foe to truth and juftice 
 in the republic of letters. It fliould afford us an 
 antidote againft the poifon of party rage in all 
 literary difcuffions, to obferve, that by indulging 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 2/7 
 
 it , a vc ry ftrong and a very devout mind was 
 hurried into the want of clear moral perception , 
 and oF true Chriftian charity, in defcribing the 
 condn61, and in fcrutinizing the motives, of Mil- 
 ton. It feems as il the good angel of this extra- 
 ordinary j.>oet 1 ad determined that his poetical 
 renown Ihould pafs (like his virtue and his ge- 
 nius) thiough trials moft wonderfully adapted to 
 give it luftre; and hence (as im.agination at leaft 
 may pleafe itfelf in fuppofing) hence might fuch 
 enemies be combined againfl him, as the world, 
 perhaps, never favv before in a fimilar confede- 
 racy. A bafe artificer of falfhood , and a mag- 
 nanimous teacher of moral philofophy, united in 
 a wild endeavour to diminilh his reputation ; but, 
 like the rafli affailants of Jupiter, in the fables of 
 paganifm , they only confirmed the pre-eminence 
 they attacked witli prepofterous temerity. Tiie 
 philofopher, indeed, made an honorable retreat; 
 and no candid mind will feverely cenfure liim for 
 an ill-flarred alliance , which however clouded by 
 prejudice, he might originally form in compaf- 
 lion to indigence, and which he certainly ended 
 by rejection of impoPiure. 
 
 The miferable Lauder was punilhed by events 
 fo calamitous, that even thofe admirers of Mil- 
 ton, who are moll oiTended by the enormity of 
 the fraud, mnft wilh that penitence and amend- 
 ment had fecured to this unhappy being, who 
 feems to have pofleffed confiderable fcholarfliip, 
 a milder defliny. Finding himfelf unable to 
 
278 CONJECTUllES Oil THE ORIGIN 
 
 ftriK^gle with public odium in tliis country, he 
 fought an afyhim in the Well Indies, and there 
 died, an indigent outcaft , and a memorahle 
 example, how dangerous it is to incur the in- 
 dignation of mankind, by bafe devices to blaft 
 the reputation of departed genius. — May his 
 wretched cataftrophe preferve the literary world 
 from being diihonored again by artifice fo de- 
 teftablel 
 
 I have faid, that the collection he publiflied 
 of Latin poets is entitled to fome regard as a li- 
 terary curiohty : and it may here be proper to 
 enumerate the authors comprifed in that collec- 
 tjon. The hrlt volume contains the Poemata Sa- 
 cra of Andrew Ramfay, from a copy printed at 
 KdinburfTJi, i633; and the Adamus L.xulofGro- 
 tins, from the edition of the Hague, 1601. In the 
 fccoiui volume we have the Sarcotis of Mafenius, 
 from the edition of Cologne, 1644, omitting the 
 4th and 5th books, which may be found in a 
 copy of the Sarcotis printed at Paris, by Barbou, 
 1771 : the firit book of Da^monomachia, a poem 
 by Odoricus Valmarana, printed at Vienna, in 
 q3 books, i6q7 : Paradifus Jacobi Catfii, a cele- 
 brated Dutch poet — the Paradife of Catfuis is a 
 fpirited and graceful epithalamium on the nup- 
 tials of Adam and Eve , originally written in the 
 native language of the author ; this Latin verfion 
 of it was executed by the learned Barlzeus , and 
 hvii printed in 1643 : Bellum Angelicum, Auc- 
 tore Frederico Taubmanno; a poem, confifling 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. Q79 
 
 of two books , and a fragment of a third , ori- 
 ginally printed in 1604. 
 
 Lander, in publiftiing this colle£iion of cnrious 
 Latin verfe , has occafionally feafoned it with 
 remarks of his o^vn , both in Latin and Engiiih 
 — the tenor of them has a great tendency to 
 confirm the apology , with which Johnfon ex- 
 cufed the implicit and hafty credit that he gave 
 to the grofs forgeries of the impoftor : " He 
 " thought the man too frantic to be fraudulent." 
 The language ufed by Lauder, in the publication 
 I am fpeaking of, fhows indeed that the con- 
 temptuous abhorrence, which this unhappy fcho- 
 lar had conceived of Milton, really bordered 
 upon infanity. Without pointing to any parti- 
 cular inflances of plagiarifm , he beflows on the 
 poet the extraordinary title of the arch felon; 
 and inferts a fmgular epigram , written by a fer- 
 vile foreigner, to prove Milton an atheilt. Not 
 contented with reviling the great author him- 
 felf, he extends the virulent attack to his ne- 
 phew Philips, whom he accufes of having favored, 
 by a fufpicious filence , the fecret pra<f?lice of his 
 uncle 5 in rifiing the treafures of others , " Phi- 
 " lips (fays Lauder) every where in his 'Thea- 
 *' trum Poetarum ,' either wholly paffes over in 
 " filence fuch authors as Milton was moft obliged 
 " to , or, if he chances to mention them , does it 
 " in the moft flight and fuperficial manner ima- 
 ^ ginable. " 
 
q8o conjectures on the origin 
 
 There is Ibme acutenefs, and more truth, iri 
 this oblbrvation concerning Philips, than L.aiider 
 was himl'elf a\vare of. Though Milron was indeed 
 no plagiary , and his nephew of conrfe had. 
 no thefts to conceal , it is very remarkable that 
 Philips , giving an accomit of poets in all langua- 
 ges , omits fuch of their works as were built on 
 fubje61s refembling thofe of his uncle. This omif- 
 fion is not only ftriking in the brief account he 
 gives of the Latin poets collected by Lauder; it 
 extends to fome Italian writers, of whom I lliall 
 prefently have occafion to fpeak more at large. 
 Let me firft obferve, in apology for the omilTions 
 of Philips, which are too frequent to be confi- 
 dered as accidental, that he probably chofe not 
 to enumerate various poems relating to angels, 
 to Adam , and to Paradife , left ignorance and. 
 malice lliould abfurdly confider the mere exiftence 
 of fucii poetry as a derogation from the glory of 
 Milton. That Philips had himfelf no inconfi- 
 derable fliase of poetical tafte , and that he was 
 laudably zealous for the honor of his uncle, ap- 
 pears , 1 think , from the following remarks , 
 which I tranfcribe with pleafure , from his pre- 
 face to the little book I am fpeaking of, as they 
 feem to contain an oblique and graceful com- 
 pliment to his renowned relation; — " A poetical 
 " fancy is much feen in a choice of verfe proper 
 " to a chofen fubje6f. 
 
 " Wit, ingenuity, and learning in verfe, even 
 " elegance itfelf, though that comes neareft, are 
 
 " one 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. q8i 
 
 " one thing, true native poetry is another, in 
 " which there is a certain air and fpirit , which , 
 " perhaps, the molt learned and judicious in 
 " other arts do not perfe^ily apprehend , much 
 " lefs is it attainable by any fludy or induflry. " 
 
 This certain air and fpirit are affuredly mofl 
 confpicuous in Milton : he ^vas a poet of nature's 
 creation , but one who added to all her endow- 
 ments every advantage that fludy could acquire. 
 
 By the force and opulence of his own fancy 
 he was exempted from the inclination and the 
 neceffity of borrowing and retailing the ideas of 
 other poets ; but , rich as he was in his o^\ n 
 proper fund, he chofe to be perfecftly acquainted, 
 not only with the wealth , but even -with the 
 poverty of others. He feems to have read , in 
 different languages, authors of every clafs; and I 
 doubt not but he had perufed every poem col- 
 ledied by Lauder, though fome of them hardly 
 afford ground enough for a conjecture, that he 
 remembered any paffage they contain , in the 
 courfe of his nobler compofition. Johnfon , in 
 his preface to Lauder's pamphlet, reprefents the 
 Adamus Exul of Grotius as " the hrfl draught , 
 " the prima Jlamina of the Paradife Loft. " The 
 fame critic obferves, in touching on this fubjeit, 
 in his life of Milton — " Whence he drew the 
 " original defign has been varioufly conjectured 
 " by men , who cannot bear to think themfelves 
 " ignorant of that, which, at laft , neither dili- 
 " gence nor fagacity can difcover. Some hnd 
 
 20 
 
1282 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 * the hint in an Italian tragedy. Voltaire tells 
 ' a wild, unauthorized ftory ot a farce feen by 
 ' Milton in Italy, which opened thus: 'Let 
 ' the rainbow be the fiddle -Itick of the hddle 
 ' of heaven'." 
 
 The critic Avas perfecTtly right in relinquifliing 
 his former idea concerning- the Adamus Exul of 
 Grotius; but, in his remark on Voltaire, he 
 Iliows how dangerous it is to cenfure any writer 
 for what he fays concerning books, which the 
 cenfurer has no opportunity of examining. \o\- 
 taire, indeed, from his predominant pafhon for 
 ridicule, and from the ralli vivacity, that often 
 led him to fpeak too confidently of various works 
 from a very flight infpe6iion of their contents, 
 is no more to be followed implicitly in points 
 •of criticifm , than he is on the more important 
 article of rehgion : but his opinions in literature 
 are generally worth examination, as he pollefled 
 no common degree of tafte, a perpetual thirft 
 for univerfal knowledge, and though not the 
 moft intimate, yet, perhaps, the mofi: extenfive 
 acquaintance with literary works and literary men 
 that was ever acquired by any individual. 
 
 When Voltaire vifited England in the early 
 part of his life , and was engaged in foliciting a 
 fubfcription for his Henriade, which firft appeared 
 under the title of " The League," he publilhed , 
 in our language, an EfTay on Epic Poetry, a 
 work which , though written under fuch difad- 
 yantage, poffeffes the peculiar vivacity of this 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. qSS 
 
 extrnordinnry ^vriter, and is indeed fo curious a 
 fpecimen of his vcrlatile talent?, that akhoneh 
 it has been fnperfeded by a French compolition 
 of Preiser extent, nnder the fime title, it ongiit, 
 I thiink, to liave foniid a place in that fion.a] tno- 
 nnnient to the name of Voltaire , the edition of 
 his ^vorks in ninety -two volnmes. 
 
 A'= my reader may be gratified in feeing the 
 EnfTiilli ftyle of t]iis celebrated foreigner, T will 
 tranfcribe, without abridgment, what he fays of 
 Andrei ni : 
 
 K- " Milton, as he was travelling through Italy 
 *' in his youth, faw at Florence a comedy called 
 " Adamo , writ by one Andreini, a player, and 
 " dedicated to Mary deMedicis, Queen of France. 
 " The fubje61 of the play was the Fall of Man; 
 " the a61ors, God, the devils, the angels, Adam, 
 " Eve. the Serpent, Death, and the feven mor- 
 " tal fms : that topic, fo improper for a drama, 
 " but fo fnitable to the abfurd renins of the Ita- 
 " Han ftage (as it was at that time) was handled 
 *' in a manner entirely conformable to the ex- 
 *' travag;ance of the delign. The fcene o'pens 
 " with a chorus of angels, and a cherubim thus 
 " fpeaks for the reft : — ' L.et the rainbow be the 
 " fiddle-ftick of the fiddle of the heavens ! let 
 " the planets be the notes of our muhc ! let time 
 " beat carefully the meafure, and the winds 
 " make tl^e iharps, &:a Thus the play begins, 
 
284 CO N JECTU liES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 and every fcene rifes above the lafl: in piofulion 
 of impertinence. 
 
 '" jMilton pierced throngli the abfnrdity of that 
 " performance to the hidden majeRy of the 
 *' fubjeci, ^vhich , being altogether inifit for the 
 *' ftage, yet might be (for the genius of Milton, 
 '* and for his only) the foundation of an epic 
 *' poem. 
 
 "■ He took from that ridiculous trifie the firft 
 ** hint of the noblefl: work, \vhich human ima- 
 " gination has ever attempted , and Avhich he 
 " executed more than twenty years after. 
 
 "" In the like manner, Pythagoras owed the 
 " invention of mufic to the noife of the ham- 
 *' mer of a Blackfmith ,■ and thus , in our days , 
 *' Sir Ifaac Newton , walking in his garden , liad 
 *' the firfl: thought of his fyflem of gravitation 
 "*' upon feeing an apple falling from a tree. " 
 
 It was thus that , in the year 1727 , Voltaire, 
 then ftudying in England , and colleding all pof- 
 iible information concerning our great epic 
 poet, accounted for the origin of Paradife Loft. 
 RoUi , another foreign ftudent in epic poetry, 
 who refided at that time in London , and was 
 engaged in tranflating Milton into Italian verfe , 
 publifhed fome fevere cenfures , in Engliih, on the 
 Englifli efiay of Voltaire, to vindicate both TafTo 
 and Milton from certain ftri61ures of farcaftic 
 raillery, which the volatile Frenchman had la- 
 vilhed upon both. Voltaire, indeed, has fallen 
 himfelf into the very inconfillency , which he 
 
OF THE I'ARADISE LOST. q83 
 
 mentions as unaccountable in Dryden; I mean 
 the inconfiflency of fometimes praifnig Milton 
 Avith fuch admiration as approaches to idolatry, 
 and fometimes reproving him with fucii keennefs 
 of ridicule as borders on contempt. In the 
 courfe of this difcufhon we may find, perhaps , 
 a mode of accounting for the inconfiflcncy both 
 of Dryden and Voltaire; let us attend at prefent 
 to wliat the latter has fiid of Andreini ! — If the 
 Adamo of this author really gave birth to the 
 divine poem of Milton , the Italian ch-amatift , 
 whatever rank he mig;ht hold in his own coim- 
 try, has a fmgular claim to our attention and 
 regard. Johnfon indeed calls the report of Vol- 
 taire a wild and unauthorized ftory; and Rolli 
 alferts, in reply to it, that if Milton faw the 
 Italian Drama, it muft have been at Milan, as 
 the Adamo, in his opinion, was a performance 
 too contemptible to be endured at Florence. 
 " Adreini (fays the critic of Italy) was a flroller 
 (un iftrione) of the worfl age of the Italian let- 
 ters." Notwithftanding theft terms of contempt, 
 which one of his countrymen has beflowed upon 
 Andreini , he appears to me highly worthy of 
 our notice; (for althougli in uniting, like Shak- 
 fpeare and Moliere, the two different arts of 
 writing and of adling plays , he difcovered not 
 fuch extraordinary powers as have jnilly immor- 
 talized thofe idols of the theatre) he was yet en- 
 dowed with one cpiality , nou o)dy uncommon ^ 
 but fuch as might render liim , if I may liazard. 
 
286 GONJEGTUllES ON THE O lU GI N 
 
 the expreflion, the poetical parent of Milton. 
 The quality I mean is , enthniiafm in the high- 
 eft degree, not only poetical but religious. Even 
 the preface that Andreini prefixed to his Adamo 
 may be thought fulhcicnr to have ncled like 
 lightning on the inflammable ideas of trie Enqlifli 
 poet, and to have kindled in his mind the blaze 
 of celeftial imagination. 
 
 I am aware , that in rcfearches like the pre- 
 fent, every conjecture may abound in illuhon ; 
 the petty circumftances, by which great minds 
 are led to the firft conception of ^reat dehgns . 
 are fo various and volatile, that notliing can be 
 more dilhcult to dilcover ; fancy in particular is 
 of a nature fo airy , that the traces of her ftep 
 are hardly to be difcerned; ideas are fo fugitive, 
 that if poets, in their life-time, were queftioned 
 concerning the manner in which the feeds of con- 
 fiderable produ61ions hrft arofe in their mind, 
 they might not always be able to anfwer the in- 
 quiry; can it then be pofhble to fucceed in fuch 
 an inquiry concerning a miglity genius, who has 
 been configned more than a century to the tomb, 
 efpecially when, in the records of his life, we 
 can find no pofitive evidence on the point in 
 queftion? However trifling the chances it may 
 afford of fuccefs , the inveftigation is affuredly 
 worthy our purfuit; for, as an accomplillied cri- 
 tic has faid , in fpeaking of another poet , with 
 his ufual felicity of difcernment and expreffion , 
 " the inquiry cannot be void of entertainment 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. qS; 
 
 " wliilft Milton is our conltant theme : what- 
 *' ever mny he the fortune of the chafe, we are 
 *' fare it will lead us through pleafant profpe6is 
 " and a fine country." 
 
 It has been frequently remarked , that accident 
 and genius generally confpire in the origin of great 
 performances; and the accidents that give an im- 
 pulfe to fancy are often fuch as are hardly within 
 the reach of conjecPture. Had Ell wood himfelf 
 not recorded the occurrence, who would have 
 foppofed that a few words, which fell from a 
 fimple youth in converfation, were the real fource 
 of Paradife Regained ? Yet the offsprings of ima- 
 gination, in this point of view, have a flriking 
 analogy to the productions of nature. The noble 
 poem juft mentioned refembles a rare and valua- 
 ble tree , not planted with care and forecafl , but 
 ariiing vigoroufly from a kernel dropt by a ram- 
 bling bird on a fpot of peculiar fertility. We 
 are perfedly affured that Milton owed one of his 
 great poems to the ingenuous queftion of a young 
 quaker; and Voltaire, as we have feen , has af- 
 ferted , that he was indebted for the other to 
 the fantaflic drama of an Italian ftroller. It does 
 not appear that Voltaire had any higher autho- 
 rity for his alfertion than his own conjecture from 
 a flight infpeciion of the drama, which he haftily 
 defcribes; yet, it is mere juftice to this rapid 
 entertaining writer to declare, that in his conjec- 
 ture there is great probability, which the Kng- 
 lilh reader, I believe, will l)e inclined to admit, 
 
SbS CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 in proportion as he becomes acquainted with An- 
 dreini and his Adamo ; but before we examine 
 their merit, and the degree of influence that Ave 
 may fuppofe them to have had on the fancy of 
 Milton, let us contemplate, in one view, all the 
 Tcattered hints which tlie great poet has given us 
 concerning the grand projedf of his life, his defign 
 of Avriting an epic poem. 
 
 His firft mention of this defign occurs in the 
 following verfes of his poetical compliment to 
 Manfo : 
 
 O niihi fi mea fors talem concedat amicum, 
 Phoebsos decorafTe viros qui tarn bene nnrit , 
 Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges, 
 Arturumque etiam fub terris bel!a moventem, 
 Aut dtcam invids fociali fdedere menu^ 
 Magnanimos heroas; & O modo fpiritus adfit, 
 Fiangam Saxonicas Britonum fub marte phalanges! 
 
 might fo true a friend to ms belong, 
 So fkill'd to grace the votaries of fong , 
 Should I recal hereafter into rhyme 
 The kings and heroes of my native clime, 
 Arthur the chief, who even now prepares 
 In fubterraneous being future wars , 
 "VC'ith all his martial knights to be reftor'd , 
 Each to his feat around the fed'ral board ; 
 And , ! if fpirit fail me not, difperfe 
 Our Saxon plund'rers in triumphant verfe. 
 
 COWPEK 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 2§9 
 
 Mr. Warton fays, in liis comment on this paf- 
 fage , " it is podible that the advice of Manfo , 
 *' the friend of Taflo, might determine our poet 
 " to a defign of this kind." The conjecture of 
 this refpeciable critic may appear confirmed 
 bv the following circumftance : — In the dif- 
 courfes on Epic Poetry , which are included in 
 the profe works of TafTo, Arthur is repeatedly 
 recommended as a proper hero for a poem. Thus 
 we find that Italy moft probably fuggefted to Mil- 
 ton his firft epic idea, which he relinquiflied; nor 
 is it lefs probable that his fecond and more ar- 
 duous enterprife , which he accompliflied , was 
 fuggefted to him by his perufal of Italian authors. 
 If he faw the Adamo of Andreini reprefented at 
 Milan , we have reafon to believe that perform- 
 ance did not immediately infpire him ^vith the 
 project of writing an epic poem on our Firft Pa- 
 rents ; becaufe we find that Arthur kept poffeflion 
 of his fancy after his return to England. 
 
 In the following verfes of his Epitaphium Da- 
 monis, compofed at that period, he ftill fhows 
 himfelf attached to romantic heroes , and to 
 Britiih ftory : 
 
 Dicam, & Pandrafidos regnuni vetus InogeniK, 
 Brenniimque Arviragumque duces, prifcLimque Belinuni 
 Et tandem Armoricos Britonum fub lege colonos, 
 Tiim gravidam Arturo, fatali fraude, logernen , 
 JMenkces vultus, alTumptaque Gorlois arma 
 i^leiUni dolus. 
 
2go CONJECrUllES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 Of Brutus, Dardan chief, my fong fliall be. 
 How with his barks he plough'd the Britifh fea ; 
 Firft from Rutupia's tow'ring headland feen, 
 And of his confort's reign, fair Inogen; 
 Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold, 
 And of Arviragus ; and how of old 
 Our hardy fires th'Armorican controll'd; 
 And of the wife of Gorlois who, furpris'd ] 
 By Uther in her hufband's form difguis'd , 
 (Such was the force of Merlin's art) became 
 Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame : 
 Thefe themes 1 now revolve. 
 
 COWPER, 
 
 In one of his controverfial works, publiflied 
 in 1641, Milton informs us what poetical ideas 
 were then fluctuating in his mind; particularly 
 " what king or knight before the Conqueft might 
 *' be chofen , in whom to lay the pattern of a 
 " chriftian hero. " This project of delineating in 
 a hero a model of chriltian perfecftion , was fug- 
 gefted to the Etiglifli poet , not only by the 
 example, but by the precepts, of Taflb, as they 
 are delivered in his critical difcourfes. The epic 
 defigns of Milton were fufpended, we know, for 
 many years, by very different purfuits ; and 
 when he efcaped from " the troubled fea of noife 
 " and hoarfe difpute to the quiet and ftill air of 
 " delighful fludies," Arthur had fo far ceafed to 
 be his favorite, that he probably exclaimed, in 
 the words of Tallo ; 
 
I 
 
 or THE PARADISE LOST. 29I 
 
 Taccia Artii quel fuoi 
 Erranti, che di fogni empion le carte. 
 
 Arthur no more tVy enant kn'c'hts rehearfc , 
 Who fill, with idle dreams, delufive verfe. 
 
 For Adam now reigned in his fancy, not imme- 
 diately as the fubject of an epic poem, but as a 
 capital perfonage in the plan of a dramatic com- 
 pofition , that inftead of being formed on the 
 narrow ground of Grotius , in his Adamus Exul, 
 allowed a wider range to the fancy , and inclu- 
 ded allegorical characters , like the Adamo of 
 Andreini. 
 
 This compofitlon , firfl printed at Milan , in 
 l6i3, and again in 16)7 , refembles the myfieries 
 of our early ftage; and is denominated in Ita- 
 lian , Rapprejentnzione , a name which the writers 
 of Italy apply to dramas founded on the fcrip- 
 ture. — Dr. Pearce has faid , in the preface to his 
 review of Milton's text, that he ^vas informed 
 an Italian tragedy exifted , entitled // Paradifo 
 Perfo , Paradife Loft; but, in a very extenfive 
 refearch , I can difcover no fuch performance. 
 There is indeed another Italian drama on the' 
 fubje(^, which I have not feen , entitled Adamo 
 Cadiito , tragedia facra; but this was not printed 
 until 1C47 , fome years after the return of our 
 poet from the continent *. It feems very probable 
 
 * For the benefit of commentators on our divine bard, let 
 me here infert a brief lift of fuch Italian compofuions, as may 
 poiiibly have afforded him fome ufefiil hints : 
 
292 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 that Milton, in his collection of Italian books, 
 had brought the Adamo of Andreini to England; 
 and that the perufal of an author, wild indeed, 
 andabounding^in grotefqne extravagance, yet now 
 and then fliining with pure and united rays of 
 fancy and devotion , firfl: gave a new bias to the 
 imaginadon of the Engliili poet, or, to ufe the 
 expreffive phrafe of Voltaire , firfl revealed to 
 him the hidden majejly oftliefubjeci. The apoftate 
 ajigels of Andreini, though fometimes hideoufly 
 and abfurdly difguiting , yet occahonally fparkle 
 
 I. Adamo Caiinto, tragedia facra, di Serafino della Salandra. 
 Cczeiiza, 1647. Octavo. 
 
 z. La Battaglia Ceiefte tra Michele e Liicifero, di Antonio 
 Aifani, Palermitano. Palermo, 156S. Ouarto. 
 
 3. Dell* Adamo di Giovanni Soranzo, i due primi libri. 'Ge- 
 neva 1604. Dnodecimo. 
 
 Thefe little known produftions on the fiibjed of Milton are 
 not to be found in the royal library, nor in the princely col- 
 left'on of Lord Spencer, who poiTcffes that remarkable rarity 
 of Italian literature, the Tcfeiie of Bojcaccio ; and whofe liberal 
 paffion for boolis is ennobled by his politencfs and beneficence 
 to men of letters. 
 
 The poets of Italy were certainly favorites with Milton; and 
 perhaps his Samfon Agoniftes was founded on a facred dr.ima 
 of that country, La Rapprefentazionc di Sanfone, per Aleff.in- 
 dro Rofelli. Siena, 1616. Ouarto. — There is probr.bly confi- 
 derable poetical merit in this piece, as I find two confeqnent 
 editions of it recorded in the hiftorians of Italian literature; 
 yet I am nnabie to fay Avhether Milton is indebted to it or not, 
 as I have never been fo fortunate as to find a copy of RoLUi's 
 compofition. Yet the mention of it here may be ufeful to fu- 
 ture editors of the Englisli poet. 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. QQ^ 
 
 with fuch fire as might awaken the emulation of 
 iMilton. 
 
 I lliall not attempt to produce parallel pailao-es 
 from the two poets, becanfe the chief idea that 
 I mean to inculcate is, not that Milton tamely 
 copied the Adamo of Andreini , hut that his 
 fancy caught fire from that fpirited , though ir- 
 regular and fantaftic, compohtion — that it proved 
 in his ardent and fertile m.ind the feed of Para- 
 , dife Loft; — this is matter of mere conjedure, 
 ■\vhofe probability can only be felt in examining 
 the Adamo — to tlie lovers of Milton it may prove 
 a fource of amufmg fpeculation. 
 
 And as the original w^ork of Andreini is feldom 
 to be found , it may be pleafmg to the reader , 
 both of Engliih and Italian , to fee in thefe pages 
 a brief analyfis of his drama ; with a fhort fe- 
 le£iion from a few of the moft remarkable fcenes. 
 
 The CHARACTERS. 
 
 God the Father. 
 
 Chorus of Seraphim , Cherubim , and 
 
 Angels. 
 The archangel Michael. 
 Adam. 
 Eve. 
 
 A Cherub , the guardian of Adam. 
 Lucifer. 
 Satan. 
 Beelzebub. 
 
Q94: CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 The SEVEN mortal SiNS. 
 The World. 
 The Flesh. 
 Famine. 
 Labor. 
 Despair. 
 Death. 
 Vain Glory. 
 Serpent. 
 
 VoLANO , an infernnl mefrenger. 
 Chorus of Phanioms. 
 
 Chorus of fiery, airy, aquatic, and infernal 
 Spirits. 
 
 ACT I. Scene i. Chorus of Angels , iinging 
 the glory of God. — After their hymn , Avhich 
 ferves as a prologue, God the Fatlier, Angels, 
 Adam and Eve. — God calls to Lucifer, and bids 
 him furvey with confufion the wonders of his 
 power. — He creates Adam and Eve — their de- 
 light and gratitude. 
 
 Scene q. Lucifer, arifmg from hell — heexpreffes 
 his enmity againfl: God, the Good Angels, and Man. 
 
 Scene 3. Lucifer, Satan, and Beelzebub. — 
 Lucifer excites his alfociates to the deftru^iion of 
 Man , and calls other Demons from the abyfs to 
 confpire for that purpofe. 
 
 Scene 4,5, and 5. Lucifer, fummoning fe- 
 ven diflin^t Spirits, commilFions them to ad un- 
 der the chara61er of the feven mortal Sins, with 
 the following names : 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. Qg3 
 
 MeLECANO - - PRIDE. 
 
 LuRCONE - - Envy. 
 
 RuspicANO - - Anger. 
 
 Arfarat - - Avarice. 
 
 Maltea - - Sloth. 
 
 Dulciato - - Luxury. 
 
 GuLiAR - - Gluttony. 
 
 ACT IT. Scene i. The Angels, to the num- 
 ber of fifteen , feparately fmg the grandeur of 
 God, and his munificence to Man. 
 
 Scene 2. Adam and Eve, with Lnrcone and 
 Guliar watching unfeen. — Adam and Eve exprefs 
 their devotion to God fo fervently , that the evil 
 Spirits, though invifible; are put to flight by their 
 prayer. 
 
 Scene 3. The Serpent, Satan, Spirits. — The 
 Serpent, or Lucifer, announces his defign of 
 circumventing Woman. 
 
 Scene 4. The Serpent, Spirits, and Volano. 
 • — Volano arrives from hell, and declares that the 
 confederate powers of the abyfs'defigned to fend 
 a goddefs from the deep, entitled Vain Glory, 
 to vanquifh Man. 
 
 Scene 5. Vain Glory, drawn by a giant, Vo- 
 lano, the Serpent, Satan, and Spirits; — The Ser- 
 pent welcomes Vain Glory as his confederate, then 
 hides himfelf in the tree to watch and tempt Eve. 
 
 Scene 6. The Serpent and Vain Glory at 
 firft concealed, the Serpent difcovers himfelf to 
 
296 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 Eve, tempts and feduces her. — Vain Glory clofes 
 the a6^ ^virh expreflions of triumph. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. Adam and Eve. — After . 
 a dialogue of tendernefs ih.e produces the fruit. — 
 Adam expreff'es horror, but at laft yields to her 
 temptation. — When both have tafted the fruit, 
 they are overwhelmed with remorfe and terror: 
 they fly to conceal themfelves. 
 
 Scene 2. Volano proclaims the Fall of Man ^ 
 and invites the powers of darknefs to rejoice, 
 and pay their homage to the prince of hell. 
 
 Scene 3. ^^olano , Satan , chorus of Spirits , 
 with enfjgns of vi61ory. — Expreliion of their joy. 
 
 Scene 4. Serpent , Vain Glory , Satan . and 
 Spirits. — The Serpent commands Canoro , a mu- 
 fical fpirit, to fmg his triumph, which is cele- 
 brated with fongs and dances in the 4th and 5th 
 fcenes ; the latter clofes with expreffions of horror 
 from the triumphant demons, on the approach 
 of God. 
 
 Scene 6. God the Father, Angels, Adam 
 and Eve. — God fummons and rebukes the fin- 
 ners, then leaves them, after pronouncing his 
 malediclion. 
 
 Scene 7. An Angel, Adam and Eve. — 'The 
 Angel gives them rough fkins for clothing, and 
 exhorts them to penitence. 
 
 Scene 8, The archangel Michael , Adam and 
 Eve. — Michael drives them from Paradife Avith a 
 fcourge of fire. Angels clofe the a6t witli a cho- 
 rus , exciting the offenders to hope in repentance. 
 
 ACT 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. Q97 
 
 ACT IV. Scene i. Volano, chorus of fiery, 
 airy, earthly, and aquatic Spirits. — They exprefs 
 their obedience to Lucifer. 
 
 ScLNE 2. Lucifer rifes , and utters his ab- 
 horrence of the light; the demons confole him — ■ 
 he queftions them on the meaning of God's words 
 and condu(^ towards Man — He fpurns their con- 
 jectures, and announces the incarnation, then pro- 
 ceeds to new machinations againrt Man. 
 
 Scene 3. Infernal Cyclops, fummoned by Lu- 
 cifer, make a new world at his command. — He 
 then commiffions three demons againft man , un- 
 der the characters of the World , the Fleili , and 
 Death. 
 
 Scene 4. Adam alone. — He laments his fate, 
 and at laft feels his fufferings aggravated, in be- 
 holding Eve flying in terror from the hoftile 
 animals. 
 
 Scene 5. Adam and Eve. — She excites her 
 companion to fuicide. 
 
 Scene 6, Famine, Thirft, LafTitude, Defpair, 
 Adam and Eve. — Famine explains her own na- 
 ture, and that of her allociates. 
 
 Scene 7. Death, Adam and Eve. — Death, 
 reproaches Eve Vvith the horrors flie has occa- 
 fioned — Adam clofes the adt by exhorting Eve to 
 taXe refuge in the mountains. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. The Flefli, in the fliape 
 of a woman , and Adam. — He refifts her 
 temptation. 
 
298 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 Scene q. Lucifer, the Flefh, and AdcKn. — 
 Lucifer pretends to be a man, and the elder 
 brother of Adam. 
 
 Scene 3. A Cherub, Adam, the Flelh, and 
 Lucifer. — The Cherub fecretly warns Adam 
 againfl: his foes; and at laft defends him with 
 manifefl power. 
 
 Scene 4. The world, in the fliape of a man,, 
 exulting in his own finery. 
 
 Scene 3. Eve and the World. — He calls forth 
 a rich palace from the ground , and tempts Eve 
 with fp lend or. 
 
 Scene 6. Chorus of Nymphs, Eve, the World, 
 and Adam. — He exhorts Eve to refift thefe allure- 
 ments — the World calls the demons from hell 
 to enchain his vi61ims — Eve prays for mercy: 
 Adam encourages her. 
 
 Scene 7. Lucifer, Death, Chorus of Demons. 
 -<^They prepare to feize Adam and Eve. 
 
 Scene 8. The archangel Michael , with a 
 chorus of good Angels.— After a fpirited alterca- 
 tion, Michael fubdues and triumphs over Lucifer. 
 Scene 9. Adam, Eve, chorus of Angels. — 
 They rejoice in the vi6iory of Michael : he ani- 
 mates the offenders with a promife of favor from 
 God, and future refidence in heaven: — they ex- 
 prefs their hope and gratitude. — The Angels clofe 
 the drama, by fmging the praife of the Redeemer. 
 
 After this minute account of Andreini's plan, 
 ^li6 reader may be curious to fee fome fpecimens 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. SQQ 
 
 of his poetry in an Englifli verfion, I Hiall fe- 
 led three : Firft , the chorus of angels , which 
 ferves as a prologue to the drama , and has been 
 fo ludicroufly defcribed by Voltaire; fecondly, 
 the foliloquy of Lucifer on his firft appearance ; 
 and thirdly, the fcene in which Eve induces 
 Adam to tafte the fruit. I lliall prehx to them 
 the preface of Andreini; but as thefe fpecimens 
 of his compofition might feem tedious here, and 
 too much interrupt the courfe of this effay, I 
 iliall detach them from it, and infert them as an 
 Appendix. 
 
 The majefty of Milton appears to the utmoft 
 advantage when he is fully compared with every 
 writer , whofe poetical powers have been exer- 
 cifed on the fubjecl, to which only his genius was 
 eqnal. 
 
 Let me obferve, however, for the credit of 
 I Andreini , that although he has been contemp- 
 ' tuoufly called a ftroUer , he had fome tindure of 
 i clafTical learning, and confiderable piety. He 
 j occalionally imitates Virgil, and quotes the fa- 
 I thers. He was born in Florence, 1378; his mother 
 was an a61refs , highly celebrated for the excel- 
 lence of her talents, and the purity of her life; 
 flie appeared alfo as an authorefs , and printed 
 a volume of letters and effays , to which two 
 great poets of her country, Taffo and Marini , 
 contributed each a fonnet. Her memory was 
 celebrated by her fon, who publifhed at her death, 
 a collection of poems m her praife. Having 
 
3oo CON JECt U RES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 diftinguiOied himfelf as a comedian nl Milan , he 
 travelled into France, in the train of the famous 
 Mary de Medici, and obtained, as an aclor, the 
 favor of Lewis the Xlllth. The biographical 
 work of Count Mai'zuchelli on the writers of Ita- 
 ly, includes an account of Andreini , Avith a lift 
 of his various productions; they amount to the 
 number of thirty , and form a fingular medley 
 of comedies and devout poems. His Adamo alone 
 feems likely to preferve his name from oblivion ; 
 and that indeed can never ceafe to be regarded 
 as a literary curiofity , while it is believed to have 
 given a fortunate impulfe to the fancy of Milton. 
 
 If it is highly probable, as I think it Avill ap- 
 pear to every poetical reader, who perufes the 
 Adamo, that Andreini turned the thoughts of 
 Milton from Alfred to Adam , and led him to 
 fketch the firft outlines of Paradife Loft in various 
 plans of allegorical dramas, it is poffible iha.t an 
 Italian writer, lefs known than Andreini, firft 
 threw into the mind of Milton the idea of con- 
 verting Adam into an epic perfonage. I have 
 now before me a literary curiofity, which my 
 accompliftied friend, Mr. Walker, to whom the 
 literature of Ireland has many obligations , very 
 kindly fent me , on his return from an excurfion 
 to Italy , where it happened to ftrike a traveller, 
 whole mind is peculiarly awakened to elegant 
 purfuits. The book I am fpeaking of is enti- jj 
 tied La Scena Tragica d'Adamo ed Eva , Eftratta 
 dai primi tre capi della Sacra Genefi , « ridotta 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 3oi 
 
 a fignificato Morale da TroiloLancetta, Benaeenfe. 
 Venetia 164.4. This little work is dedicated to 
 Maria Gonzaga , Dutchefs of Mantua, and is no- 
 thing more than a drama in profe of the ancient 
 form, entitled a morality, on the expulfion of 
 our firfl parents from Paradife. The author does 
 not mention Andreini , nor has he any mixture 
 of verfe in his compofition; but, in his addrefs 
 to the reader, he has the following very remark- 
 able paffage : after fuggelling that the Mofaic 
 hiOory of Adam and Eve is purely allegorical , 
 and defigned as an incentive to virtue , he fays , 
 " Una notte fognai, che Moife mi porfe graziofa 
 " efponzione, e mifteriofo iignihcato con parole 
 " tali appuiito: 
 
 "• Dio fa parte all' huom di fe fteffo con 1' in- 
 *' tervento della ragione , e difpone con infalli- 
 " bile fentenza , che fignoreggiando in lui la me- 
 " defima fopra le fenfuali voglie, prefervato il porno 
 " del proprio core dagli apjjetiti difordinati , per 
 " CTuiderdone di giufta obbedienza gli trasforma il 
 '*' mondo in Paradifo. — Di quefto s' io parlafli, 
 " al ficuro formerei heroico poema convenevole 
 " a femidei. " 
 
 '• One night I dreamt that IVIofes explained 
 " to me the miftery, almofl in thefe words: 
 
 •• God reveals himfelf to man by the inter- 
 ^ vention of reafon , and thus infallibly ordains 
 " that reafon , while fhe fupports her fovereignty 
 " over the fenfual inclinations in man , and pre- 
 " ferves the apple of his heart from licentious 
 
30Q CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 " appetites, in reward of his jufi: obedience trans- 
 " forms the world into Paradife — Of this Avere 
 ** I to fpeak, affuredly I might form an heroic 
 " poem \vorthy of demi-gods. " 
 
 It flrikes me as pofTible that thefe lafl words , 
 afhgned to IMofes in his vifion by Troilo Lan- 
 cetta, might operate on the mind of Milton like 
 the queftion of Ellwood, and prove, in his pro- 
 lific fancy , a kind of rich graft on the idea he 
 deri'v'ed from Andreini , and the germ of his 
 greatefl production. 
 
 A fceptical critic, inclined to difcountenance 
 this conje6iure, might indeed obferve , it is more 
 probable that Milton never faw a little volume 
 not publijhed until after his return from Italy, 
 and written by an author fo obfcure , that his 
 name does not occur in Tirabofchi's elaborate 
 hiftory of Italian literature; nor in the patient 
 Italian chronicler of poets, Quadrio, though he 
 beftows a chapter on early dramatic compofitions 
 in profe. — But the mind , that has once ftarted a 
 conjedure of this nature, muft be weak indeed, 
 if it cannot produce ne^v fliadow's of argument in 
 aid of a favorite hypothehs, — Let me therefore 
 be allowed to advance , as a prefumptive proof 
 of Milton's having feen the work of Lancetta, 
 that he makes a fmilar ufe of Mofes , and intro- 
 duces him to fpeak a prologue in the fketch of 
 his various plans for an allegorical drama. It is 
 indeed poffible that Milton might never fee the 
 performances either of Lancetta or Andreini — • 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOS J'. 3o3 
 
 yet conjedure has ground enough to conclude 
 very fairly , that he was acquainted ^vitil both ; 
 for Andreini \vrote a long allegorical drama on 
 Paradife , and we know that the fancy of Milton 
 firft began to play with the fubje^l according to 
 that peculiar form of compofition. — Lancetta 
 treated it alfo in the fliape of a dramatic allegory; 
 but faid, at the fame time, under the character 
 of Mofes, that the fubjei^ niight form an incom- 
 parable epic poem ; and Milton , quitting his own 
 hafty fketches of allegorical dramas, accompliflied 
 a work which anfwers to that intimation. 
 
 After all, I allow that the province of con- 
 jecture is the region of ihadows; and as I offer 
 my ideas on this topic rather as phantoms that 
 may amufe a lover of poetical fpeculation, than as 
 folid proofs to determine a caufe of great mo- 
 ment , I am perfuaded every good-natured reader 
 will treat them with indulgence: affuredly I Ihall 
 feel neither an^er, nor inclination to contend in 
 their defence, if any feverer critic, 
 
 " Irruat, & fruftra ferro diverberet umbras. " 
 
 In mentioning the imperfe6^ rudiments of Pa- 
 radife Loft, Johnfon fays, very juftly, " It is 
 " pleafant to fee great works in their feminal 
 " ftate , pregnant with latent poffibilities of ex- 
 " cellence ; nor could there be any more de- 
 " lightful entertainment than to trace their gra- 
 " dual growth and expanfion , and to obferve 
 
304 CONJECTURES ON TJIE ORIGIN 
 
 *' how they are fometimes fuddenly advanced by 
 " accidental hints, and fometimes (lowly impro- 
 " ved by fleady meditation." Such entertainment 
 would indeed be peculiarly delightful in refpe6l 
 to Milton. It is in fome meafure beyond our 
 reach , becaufe , if we except his fketches of plans 
 for an allegorical drama, no real evidence is left 
 concerning the origin and progrefs of his m.agni- 
 ficent conception: but fuppofition is often a plea- 
 fant fubflitute for abfolute knowledge; and in 
 the hope that it may prove fo in the prefent 
 cafe, let me advance in this ihadowy refearch , 
 and after accounting for the firft flaflies of Mil- 
 ton's fubje<S on his fancy, purfue the vein of con- 
 je61ure, in confiderir\g various ideas that might 
 influence him in the profecution of his work. 
 
 When Adam engaged the fancy of Milton , 
 however that perfonage might firft be impreffed 
 upon it as a fubje^l; ofverfe, many circumftances 
 might confpire to confirm his afcendency. The 
 works of different arts, which the poet furveyed 
 in his travels, had, perhaps, a confiderable in- 
 fluence in attaching his imagination to our firft 
 parents. — He had moft probably contemplated 
 them not only in the colors of Michael Angelo , 
 wlio decorated Rome with his pidure of the crea- 
 tion, but in the marble of Bandinelli , who had 
 executed two large ftatues of Adam and Eve , 
 which , though they were far from fatisfying the 
 tafte of connoiffeurs , might ftimulate even by 
 their imperfections the genius of a poet. In 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 3o5 
 
 recolle^ling how painting and fculpture had both 
 exercifed their refpe6i.ive powers on thefe hallowed 
 and interefting chara^iers , the mufe of Milton 
 might be tempted to contend with the fifler arts. 
 I muft confefs , however, that Richardfon , a fond 
 idolater of thefe arts and of Milton , is rather in- 
 clined to believe that they did not much occupy 
 the attention of the poet, even during his refi- 
 dence in Italy : yei I am perfuaded he muft have 
 been greatly ftruck by the works of Michael 
 Angelo , a genius whom he refembled fo much 
 in his grand chara6leriftic , mental magnificence ! 
 and to whom he was infinitely fuperior in the 
 attra6\ive excellencies of delicacy and grace. In 
 touching on a point of refemblance between the 
 poet and this pre-eminent artift, we cannot fail 
 to obferve the abundance and variety of charms 
 in the poetry of Milton. AH the diiferent per- 
 fections , which are affigned as chara6leriftics to 
 the moft celebrated painters, are united in this 
 marvellous poet. He has the fublime grandeur 
 of Michael Angelo , the chafte fimplicity of Ra- 
 phael , the fweetnefs of Correggio , and the rich- 
 nefs of Rubens. In his Samfon we may admire 
 the force of Rembrandt, and in his Comus the 
 grace and gaiety of Albano and Poufhn : in 
 fliort , there is no charm exhibited by painting, 
 which his poetry has failed to equal, as far as 
 analogy between the different arts can extend. 
 If Milton did not pay much' attention in his tra- 
 vels to thofe works of the great painters that he 
 
3o6 CONJECTURES ON THE OHIGIk" 
 
 had opportunities of furveying (which I cannot 
 think prob'able) it is certain that his own works 
 afford a moft excellent field to exercife and ani- 
 mate the powers of the pencil *. The article in 
 which I apprehend a painter muft find it moft 
 difficult to equal the felicity of the poet is, the 
 delineation of his apoftate angels. Here , per- 
 haps , poetry has fome important advantage over 
 herfifter art; and even poetry herfelf is confidered 
 by aufterer critics as unequal to the tafk. John- 
 fon regarded the book of Paradife Loft , which 
 defcribes the war of Heaven, as fit to be " the 
 favorite of children. " — • Imagination itfelf may 
 be depreciated , by the aufterity of logic , as a 
 childifli faculty, but thofe who love even its 
 
 * The learned, ingenious, enthiifiaftic Winkelman has 
 advanced, in his moft celebrated work, a very different opi- 
 nion i but the ardor with which this extraordinary man had 
 ftudied and idolized the ancients, rendered him deplorably pre- 
 fumptuous and precipitate in feveral of his ideas relating to 
 modern genius, and particularly in what he has aflerted of 
 Milton. Some paflionate admirers of antiquity feem to lament 
 the fall of paganifm , as fatal to poetry , to painting , and to 
 fculpture ; but a more liberal and enlightened fpirit of cri- 
 ticifm may rather believe, what it is very poflible , I appre- 
 hend, to demonftrate, that chriftianity can hardly be more 
 favorable to the purity of morals, than it might be rendered 
 to the perfeftion of thefc delightful arts. Milton himfelf may 
 be regarded as an obvious and complete proof that the pofition 
 is true as far as poetry is concerned. In what degrees the 
 influence of the Chriftian religion can afFeiH: the other two, it 
 may be pleafing, and perhaps ufeful, to confider in fome fu- 
 ture compofition devoted to their advancement. 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. JO7 
 
 excelTes may be allowed to exult in its delights. 
 No reader truly poetical ever perufed the fixth 
 book of Milton without enjoying a kind of trans- 
 port, which a ftern logician might indeed con- 
 demn , but which he might alfo think it more 
 defirable to Ihare. I doubt not but while Mil- 
 ton was revolving his fubje(fl: in his mind, he 
 often heard from critical acquaintance fuch remarks 
 as might have induced him , had his imagination 
 been lefs energetic , to relinquilli the angels as 
 intra6iable beings, ill fuited to the fphere of poe- 
 try. But if his glowing fpirit ^vas ever damped 
 for a moment by fuggeflions of this nature, he 
 was probably re-animated and encouraged by re- 
 collefling his refpe<^able old acquaintance, the 
 poets of Italy. He had not only feen the infer- 
 nal powers occafionally delineated with great ma- 
 jefly and efFe6i in the Jerufalem of TafTo , and 
 Marini's " Slaughter of the Innocents," but he was 
 probably acquainted with an Italian poem , little 
 known in England , and formed exprefsly on the 
 conflid of the apoflate fpirits. The work I allude 
 to is , the Angeleida of Erafmo Valvafone , print- 
 ed at Venife , in i3go. This poet was of a noble 
 family in the Venetian republic; as his health \vas 
 delicate, he devoted himfelf to retired fludy, and 
 cultivated the Mufes in his caftle of Valvafone. 
 His \vorks are various , and one of his early 
 compofitions was honored by the applaufe o 
 Tallo. His Angeleida confifts of three cantos on 
 the War of Heaven , and is fingularly terminated 
 
CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 by a fonnet, addreffed to the triumphant Arch- 
 angel Michael. Several palTages in Valvaibne 
 induce me to think that Milton was familiar with 
 his work. — I ^vill only tranfcribe the verfes , in 
 which the Itahan poet afligns to the mfernal 
 powers the invention of artillery: 
 
 Di falnitro , e di zolfo ofcura polvc 
 Chiude altro in feiro cavo ; e poi la tocca 
 Dietro col foco , e in foco la rifolve : 
 Onde fragofo tuon fubito fcocca : 
 Scocca e lampeggia , e una palla volve, 
 Al cui fconfro ogni duro aide e trabocca ; 
 Crud' e '1 faetta , ch' im:rar s' attenta 
 V arme che '1 fommo Dio dal Cielo aventa. 
 
 L' Angelo rio , quando a concdtrer forfe 
 Di faper, di bellezza, e di pofTanza 
 Con r eterno factor , perche s' accorfe 
 Quell' arme non aver, ch' ogni arme avanza, 
 L' empio ordigno a compor 1' animo torfc, 
 Che ferir puo del folgore a fcmbianza : 
 E con quefto a' di noftri horrido in terra 
 Tiranno, at ma di folgori ogni guerra. 
 
 Valvafone acknowledges , in his preface, that 
 he had been cenfured for having fpoken Jo ma- 
 terially (ragionato cosi materialmente) of angels , 
 who are only fpirit. But he defends himfelf very 
 ably on this point, and mentions with gratitude 
 two excellent critical difcourfes, written in his 
 
OF THE PAllADISI LOST. 3og 
 
 vindication by Giovanni Ralli and Ottavio Me- 
 nini; — there is a third alfo, according to Quadrio, 
 by Scipione di Manzano , under the name of 
 Olimpo Marcucci , printed at Venice, in zj.to , 
 i5g4. They all beflow great praife on the au- 
 thor whom they vindicate, who appears to have 
 been a very amiable man , and a poet of confi- 
 derable powers, though he poffeffed not the fub- 
 limity and the refinement of Milton or TafTo. 
 In his general ideas of poetry he refembled them 
 both ; and in his mode of exprefling himfelf, in 
 the preface to his Angeleida, he reminds me very 
 ftrongly ofthofepafTages in theprofe works of Mil- 
 ton , w^here he fpeaks on the hallowed magnifi- 
 cence of the art. They both confidered lacred 
 fubjeds as peculiarly proper for verfe; an idea 
 condemned by Johnfon, who fympathized as little 
 with Milton in his poetic as in his political prin- 
 ciples. It was by entertaining ideas of poetry, 
 dire611y contrary to thofe of his critic , that Mil- 
 ton rendered himfelf, in true dignity , the firft 
 poet of the world. Nor can we think that dig- 
 nity in any degree impaired , by difcovering that 
 many hints might be fuggefted to him by va- 
 rious poets, in different languages, who had feized 
 either a part or the whole of his fubje^l before 
 him. On the contrary, the more of thefe we 
 can difcover, and the more we compare them 
 with the Englifli bard, the more reafon we fhsll 
 find to exult in the pre-eminence of his poetical 
 powers. TafTo J in his critical difcourfes, inculcates 
 
3lO CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 a very juft maxim concerning the originality of 
 epic poets , which is very applicable to Milton. — 
 *' Nuovo fara il poema, in cui nuova fara la 
 " teftura de' nodi, nuove le foluzioni. nuovi gli 
 *' epifodi, che per entro vi fono trapofti , quan- 
 " tunque la materia foffe notifTima, e dagli altri 
 *' prima trattata : perche la novita del poema fi 
 *' confidera piuttofto alia forma, che alia ma- 
 " teria." 
 
 This great writer illuftrates his pofition, that 
 the novelty of a poem is to be eflimated more 
 from its form than its fubje<^, by the example 
 of Alamanni , an epic poet of Italy , who loft the 
 praife he might otherwife have acquired, by co- 
 pying too fondly, under modern names , the in- 
 cidents of Homer. — Milton is of all authors un- 
 doubtedly one of the moft original, both in 
 thought and expreflion : the language of his greater 
 works is evidently borrowed from no model, but 
 it feems to have great conformity with the pre- 
 cepts which TafTo has delivered in the difcourfes 
 I have juft; cited , for the formation of an epic 
 ft:yle. Yet in criticifm, as in politics, Milton was 
 undoubtedly 
 
 " NuUius addidus jurare in verba magiftri. " 
 
 He thought on every topic for himfelf; juftly 
 remarking, that " to negle<^ rules and follow 
 *' nature , in them that know art and ufe judge- 
 *' ment, isnotranfgreflion, but an enriching of art." 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 3ll 
 
 This excellent maxim infured to him the exer- 
 cife and the independence of his own elevated 
 mind. There is frequent allnfion to the works 
 of antiquity in Milton, yet no poet, perhaps, 
 who revered the ancients with fuch affeclionate 
 enthufiafm , has copied them fo Httle. This was 
 partly owing to the creative opulence of his own 
 genius, and partly to his having fixed on a fub- 
 je6^ fo different from thofe of Homer and Virgil, 
 that he may be faid to have accompliflied a revo- 
 lution in poetry, and to have purified and ex- 
 tended the empire of the epic mufe. One of the 
 chief motives that induced his imagination to de- 
 fert its early favorite Arthur , and attach itfelf 
 to our firfl: parents, is partly explained in thofe 
 admirable verfes of the ninth book , where the 
 poet mentions the choice of his own fubje£l:, 
 contrafted with thofe of his illuftrious predecejiors : 
 
 Argument 
 Not lefs, but more heroic, than the wratia 
 Of ftern Achilles on his foe purfued 
 Thrice fugitive about Troy wall , or rage 
 Of Turnus for Lavinia difefpous'd , 
 Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that fo long 
 Perplex'd the Greek , and Cytherea's fon, 
 
 — — This fubject for heroic fong 
 Pleas'd me long chufing, and beginning late; 
 Not fedulous by nature to indite 
 "Wars, hitherto the only argument 
 
Sia CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 Heroic deem'd, chief mall' ry to difTed , 
 "Witii long and tedious havoc , fabled knights 
 In battles feign'd ; the better fortitude 
 OP patience and heroic martyrdom 
 Unfung ; or to defcribe races and games , 
 Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd fliields, 
 ImprefTes quaint , caparifons and fteeds , 
 Bafes and tinfel trappings, gorgeous knights 
 At jouft and torneament ; then marfhal'd feaft 
 Serv'd up in hall with fewers and fenefchals; 
 The fkill of artifice or office mean, 
 Not that which juftly gives heroic name 
 To perfon or to poem : me of thefe 
 Nor (kili'd, nor ftudious, higher argument 
 Remains , fufficient of itfelf to raife 
 That name. 
 
 Milton feems to have given a purer fignifica- 
 tion , than we commonly give to the word hero, 
 and to have thought it might be afhgned to any 
 perfon eminent and attra^^ive enough to form a 
 principal figure in a great pi(^ure. In truth, 
 when we recollect the etymology which a phi- 
 lofopher and a faint have left us of the term, 
 we cannot admire the propriety of devoting it to 
 illuftrious homicides. Plato derives the GreeL 
 word from others, that imply either eloquence 
 or love; and St. Auguftine, from the Grecian 
 name of Juno , or the air , becaufe original he- 
 roes were pure departed fpirits fuppofed to refide 
 in that element. In Milton's idea, the ancient 
 
 heroes 
 
OF THE PARADISE LOST. 3l3 
 
 heroes of epic poetry feem to have too much re- 
 fenibled tlie modern great man, according to the 
 dehneation of that chara6ier in Fieldhig's exqui- 
 fite hiftory of Jonathan Wild the Great. Much as 
 theEnghfh poet dehghted in the poetry of Homer, 
 he appears to have thought, hke an American \vri- 
 ter of the prefent age , whofe fervent paffion for 
 the Mufes is only inferior to his philantropy, that 
 the Grecian bard, though celebrated as the prince 
 of moralifts by Horace, and efteemed a teacher of 
 virtue by St. Bafil, has too great a tendency to 
 nourilh that fanguinary madnefs in mankind , 
 which has continually made the earth a theatre 
 of carnage. I am afraid that fome poets and hiflo- 
 rians may have been a little acceffary to the innu- 
 merable maffacres with which men , ambitious of 
 obtaining the title of hero , have delblated the 
 world; and it is certain, that afeverejudge of Ho- 
 mer may, with fome plaufibility apply to him the 
 reproach that his Agamemnon utters to Achilles : 
 
 A/s/ yocp rot epig rt (piXtii TroXsfxoi n /xa;^«/ ts. 
 
 For all thy pleafure is in ftrife and b'ood. 
 
 Yet a lover of the Grecian bard may obferve, in 
 his defence , that in affigning thefe words to the 
 leader of his hoft, he iliows the pacific propriety 
 of his own fentiments ; and that, however his ver- 
 fes may have infligated an Alexander to carnage , 
 or prompted the calamitous frequency of war , 
 even this pagan poet, fo famous as the defcriber 
 ©f battles 5 detefted the objeds of his defcription. 
 
 22 
 
.3l4 CONJECTURES ON THE ORIGIN 
 
 But whatever may be thought of the heathen 
 'bard, Milton, to whom a purer rehpion had criven 
 greater purity , and I think greater force of ima- 
 gination , Milton, from a long furvey of human 
 nature, had contra61ed fuch an abhorrence for 
 the atrocious abfurdity of ordinary war, that his 
 feelings in this point feem to have influenced his 
 epic fancy. He appears to have relinquiflied com- 
 mon heroes, that he might not cherifh the too 
 common characteriflic of man — a fanguinary fpirit. 
 He afpired to delight the imagination, like Ho- 
 mer, and to produce, at the fame time, a much 
 happier effe6i on the mind. Has he fucceeded in 
 this glorious idea? Affuredly he has : — to pleafe 
 is the end of poetry. Homer pleafes perhaps more 
 nniverfally than Milton ; but the pleafure that the 
 Englifli poet excites , is more exqtiifite in its na- 
 ture , and fuperior in its effect. An eminent 
 painter of France ufed to fay, that in reading 
 Homer he felt his nerves dilated , and he feemed 
 to increafe in ftature. Such an ideal effe61; as Ho- 
 mer, in this example, produced on the body, 
 Milton produces in the fpirit. To a reader who 
 thoroughly relilhes the two poems on Paradife, 
 his heart appears to be purified , in proportion 
 to the pleafure he derives from the poet , and his 
 mind to become angelic. Such a tafte for Milton 
 is rare , and the reafon why it is fo is this : — 
 To form it completely , a reader muft poffefs , in 
 fome degree, what was fuperlatively poflelfed 
 by the poet , a mixture of two different fpecies 
 
OF THE PAKADISE LOST. 3l5 
 
 of entluiriarm, the poetical and the religious. To 
 reiilh Korner, it is fuflicient to have a pjliion for 
 excellent verfej but the reader of Milton, who 
 is only a lover of the Mufes, lofes half, and cer- 
 tainly the befl: half, of that tranfcendent delight 
 which the poems of this divine enthufiaft are ca- 
 pable of imparting. A devotional tafle is as re- 
 quihte for the full enjoyment of Milton as a 
 tnlte for poetry; and this remark will fnfficiently 
 explain the inconfiflency fo flriking in the fenti- 
 ments of m.any diftinguilhed writers , who have 
 repeatedly fpoken on the great Englirn poet—- < 
 particularly that inconfiflency, which I partly 
 promifed to explain in the judgments ofDrydeu 
 and Voltaire. Thefe very different men had 
 both a pafTion for verfe, and both ftrongly felt 
 the poetical powers of Milton : but Dry den per- 
 haps had not much , and Voltaire had certainly 
 not a particle , of Milton's religious enthufiafm ; 
 hence, inflead of being imprefied with the fandtity 
 of his fubje6i, they fometimes glanced upon it 
 in a ludicrous point of view. 
 
 Hence they fometimes fpeak of him as the very 
 prince of poets, and fometimes as a mifguided 
 genius, who has failed to obtain the rank he af- 
 pired to in the poetical \vorld. But neither the 
 caprices of conceit, nor the cold aufierity of rea- 
 fon, can reduce the glory of this pre-eminent bard, 
 • — It was in an hour propitious to his renown, 
 that he relinquilhed Arthur and Meilin for Adam 
 and the Angels ; and he might fay on theoccafion, 
 in the words of his admired Petrarch. 
 
3i6 CON J ECTtJiiES, ike. 
 
 To benedico il luogo , il tempo , e V hora 
 Che si alto miraro gli occhi miei. 
 
 I blefs the fpot , the feafon, and the hour, 
 When my piefumptuous eyes were lix'd fo high. 
 
 To fay that his poem wants human interefl, 
 is only to prove , that he who finds tiiat defeat 
 wants the proper fenfibility of man. A work that 
 difplays at full length , and in the ftrongefl light, 
 the delicious tranquillity of innocence, the tor- 
 menting turbulence of guilt, and the confolatory 
 fatisfadion of repentance, has furely abundance of 
 attra(?lion to awaken fympathy. The images and 
 fentiments that belong to thefe varying fituations 
 are fo fuited to our mortal exiflence, that they 
 cannot ceafe to interefl, while human nature 
 endures. The human heart, indeed, may be 
 too much depraved , and the human mind may 
 be too licentious, or too gloomy, to have aper- 
 ient relilh for Milton j but , in honor of his poe- 
 try , we may obferve, that it has a peculiar ten- 
 dency to delight and to meliorate thofe charac- 
 ters ; in which the feeds of tafle and piety have 
 been happily fown by nature. In proportion as 
 the admiration of mankind fliall gro^v more and 
 more valuable from the progrelTive increafe of 
 intelligence, of virtue , and of religion, this in- 
 comparable poet will be more affectionately 
 ftudied , and more univerfally admired. 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 ADAMO OF ANDREINl! 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 ANALYSIS OF ANOTHER ITALIAN DRAMA 
 
 ON THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
[ 3i8 ] 
 
 Al benigno LETTORE. 
 
 I-'AZIO e ftanco ( letter difcreto ) d 'aver con 
 I'occhio dellafronte troppofifo rimirate quefte ter- 
 rene cofe ; quel della mente una volta inzanaldo 
 a piu belle confiderazioni , ed alle tante maravi- 
 glie fparfe dal fommo Dio a benefizio dell' oomo 
 per I'univerfo; fentj paffarmi il cuore da certo 
 flimolo, e da, non foche, crlfliano compun- 
 gimento, vedendo come olfefa in ogni tempo da 
 noi gravemente, quella inefibbile bonta, benigna 
 ad ogni modo ci fi moftraffe , (juelle in un con- 
 tinuo ftato di benificenza ad nfo noftro confer 
 vando; e come una fol volta provocata a ven- 
 detta, oltre i fuoi vafti confmi non allargaffe il 
 mare, al fole non ofcnrafle la luce, fterile non 
 faceffe la terra, per abiiTarci, per acciecarci , e per 
 diftrugiTerci ftnalmente. E tutto internato in 
 quefli divini affetti , mi fentj rapire a me fleffo, 
 e traportare da dolce violenza la nel terreftre pa- 
 radifo, ove pur di veder mi parea 1' uomo pri- 
 miero Adamo , fattura cara di Dio, amiro de- 
 gli angeli, erede, del cielo , familiar delle llelle, 
 compendio delle cofe create, ornamento del tutto, 
 
[ 3i9 ] 
 
 To the courteous READER. 
 
 Oatiated and fatigued (gentle reader) by hav- 
 ing looked on thefe earthly objecls with eyes too 
 intent, and raihng therefore the eye of my mind 
 to higher contemplations, to the wonders diffufed 
 by tlie fupreme Being, for the benefit of man, 
 through the univerfe, I felt my heart penetrated 
 by a certain chriftian compunction in refleciing 
 how his inexprefhble goodnefs, though perpe- 
 tually and grievoufly offended by us, (till fliows 
 itfelf in the higlieft degree ijidulgent towards us, 
 in preferving thofe wonders with a continued in- 
 fluence to our advantage ; and how, on the hrfl pro- 
 vocation to vengeance. Almighty power, does not 
 enlarge the ocean to pais Its immenfe boundary, 
 does not obfcure the light of the lun, does not im- 
 prefs fterilityon the earth, to ingulf us, to blind us, 
 and finally to deflroy us. Softened and abforbed 
 in thefe divine emotions, I felt myfelf tranfported 
 and hurried, by a delightful violence, into a ter- 
 refirial paradlfe , where I feemed to behold the 
 firft man , Adam , a creature dear to God , the 
 friend of angels, the heir of heaven , familiar with 
 the ftars , a compendium of all created things, 
 the ornament of all , the miracle of nature , lord 
 
3-20 APPENDIX. 
 
 miracolo della natura, imperador degli animali , 
 unico aJbergatore dell' univerfo , e fruitore di 
 tante maraviglie e grandezze. Quindi invaghito 
 ancora pin che mai, rifolvei col favor di Dio be- 
 nedetto de dare alia luce del mondo, quel che 
 io portava nelle tenebre della mia mente ; si 
 per dare in qualche modo , a conofcere ch' io 
 conofceva me ftefTo, e gli obblighi infiniti ; ch' io 
 tengo a Dio ; come perche altri , che non co- 
 nofcono, fapeffero chi f u , chi fia, e chi fara , 
 queft' uomo ; e dalla bafTa confiderazione di 
 quefte cofe terrene, alzaffero la mente alle celefle 
 e divine. Stetti pero gran pezza in forfe, s' io doveva 
 e poteva tentare compofizione a me, per mold 
 capi , difFicililhma , poiche cominciando la facra 
 tela della creazione dell' uomo fm la dov' e 
 fcacciato dal paradifo terreflre (che fei hore vi 
 corfero come ben narra Sant Agoftino nel libro 
 della Citta di Dio) non ben Io vedeva come in 
 cinque atti foli , fi brieve fatto raccontar fi po- 
 teffe 5 tanto piu difegnando per ogni atto il nu- 
 mero almeno di fei, o fette fcene. Difficile per 
 la difputa , che fece il demonio con Eva , prima 
 che rinduceffea mangiare il porno, poiche altro 
 non abbiamo, fe non il tefto , che ne faccia men- 
 zionc , dicendo, " Nequaquam moriemini , & eri- 
 tis ficut Dii, fcientes bonum &: malum." Diffi- 
 cile per le parole d' Eva in perfuadere Adamo 
 (che pur aveva il doi^o della fcienza infufa) a 
 guftar del porno : ma difficilifhma fopra tutto per 
 
APPENDIX. 321 
 
 of the animals, tlie only inhabitant of the uni- 
 verfe, and enjoyer of a fcene fo wonderfully 
 gr.'uid. Whence, charmed more than ever, I 
 refoived , with the favor of the bleiled God , to 
 uflser into the light of the world what I bore in 
 the darknefs of my imagination , both to render 
 it known in fome meafnre that I know myfelf, 
 and the infinite obligations that I have to God ; 
 and tliat others, who do not know, may learn 
 the true nature of man, and from the low con- 
 templation of earthly things may raife their mind 
 to things celeflial and divine. 
 
 I remained, however, a confiderable time in 
 doubt, if I ou^ht, or if I were able, to undertake 
 a compofition moft difficult to me on many ac- 
 counts, fince in beginning the facred fubje£\ from 
 man's creation to the point where he is driven 
 from tlie terreflrial paradife (a period of Ax hours, 
 as Saint Auguftine relates in his book on the 
 city of God) I did not clearly perceive how an 
 action fo brief could be formed into five a6is, 
 efpecially allowing to every a.Si the number of at 
 leaft fix or feven fcenes; difficult from the difpute 
 that the Devil maintained with Eve , before he 
 could induce her to eat the apple, fmce we have 
 only the text that mentions it, in faying " Nequa- 
 quam moriemini, & eritis ficut Dii , fcientes bo- 
 num &: malum ; " difficult from the words of 
 Eve, in perfuading Adam (who had indeed the 
 gift of kno\vledge infufed) to tafte the apple ; but 
 difficult above all from my own infirmity, fince 
 
3 22 APPENDIX. 
 
 la mia debolezza, poiche doveva la compofizione 
 rimaner priva di qiiegli ornanienti poetici , cosi 
 cari alle miife : priva di poter trarre le compara- 
 zioni di cofe fabrili, intiodotte col volger degli 
 anni , poiche al tempo del primo uonio , non 
 v' era cofa. Priva pur di nonjinar (mentre pero 
 parla Adamo e con lui fi ragiona) per efempio 
 archi , flrali , bipenni , urne, coltelli , fpade, afte, 
 trombe , tamburri , trofei , veililli , aringhi, mar- 
 telli , faci, mantici. roghi , teatri , erarj , e fo- 
 miglianti cofe, ed infinite, avendole tutte in- 
 trodotte la neceffita del peccato commeflo ; e 
 pero come afflittive e di pena, non dovevan paffar 
 per la mente, ne per la bocca d'Adamo, benche 
 avefle la fcienza infufa, come quegli che nell' in- 
 nocenza feliciffimo fi vivea. E priva eziandio del 
 portare in campo, fatti d' iflorie facre o pro- 
 fane; del raccontare menzogne di favolofi dei ; di 
 narrare , amori, furori , armi , caccie , pefca- 
 gioni , trionfi , naufragi , incendj , incanti , e li- 
 mili cofe , che fono in vero 1' ornamento , e lo 
 fpirito della poesia. Difficile per non fapere in 
 che ftile doveile parlare Adamo, perche rifguar- 
 dando al laper fuo , mericava i verfi intieri , 
 grandi, foftennti , nnmcroh : ma confiderandolo 
 poi paftore ed albergatore de' bofchi, pare che pure 
 e dolce effer doveffe nel fuo parlare e m' accoftai 
 percio a quefto di renderlo tale pin, ch' io potefFi 
 con verfi interi , e fpezzati , e defnienze. E qui 
 prefo animo nel maggior mio dubbio, diedi, non 
 
A P P E N I) I X. 3q3 
 
 the compofition niiift remain deprived of thofe 
 poetic ornaments fo dear to the mufes ; deprived 
 of the power to draw comparifons from imple- 
 ments of art, introduced in the courfe of years, 
 lince in the time of the firft man there was no 
 fuch thing; deprived alfo of naming (at leafi; while 
 Adam fpeaks , or difcourfe is held \vith him) for 
 example, bows, arrows, liatchets, urns, knives, 
 fwords, fpears, trumpets, drums, trophies, ban- 
 ners, lifts, hammers, torches bellows, funeral 
 piles, theatres, exchequers, and infinite thingsjof 
 a like nature, introduced by the necefhties of fm ; 
 they ought not to pafs through the mind , or 
 through the lips of Adam , although he had 
 kno^vledge infufed into him. as one who lived 
 moft happy in a flate of innocence ; deprived , 
 moreover, of introducing points of liiftory, fa- 
 cred or profane, of relating fictions of fabulous 
 deities, of rehearfmg loves, furies, arms, fports 
 of hunting orfilliing, triumphs, fliip wrecks, con- 
 flagrations, inchantments, and things of a like 
 nature , that are in truth the ornament and the 
 foul of poetry; difficult from not knowing in what 
 flyle Adam ought to fpeak, fmce, in refpe61 to 
 his knowledge , it might be proper to alfign to 
 him verfes of a high , majeftic , and flowing ftyle; 
 but confidering him as a fliepherd , and an inha- 
 bitant of the woods, it appears that he fliould 
 be iimple and fweet in his difcourfe, and I en- 
 deavoured , on that account, to render it fuch, 
 as much as I could, by variety of verfiftcation j 
 
3-24 APPENDIX. ; 
 
 fo come , principio ; andai , per cosi dire , fenza 
 mezzo feguendo : e giiinfi al fine ne me ne avvidi, 
 Onde ho da credere che la bonta di Dio , rif- 
 guardando piii tofio 1' affetto buono che i miei 
 difFetti , ( si come retira fpeilo il cuor dell' iiomo 
 dair opre male, cosi 1' induce infenfibilmente 
 ancora alle buone) fofle qnella che mi moveffe la 
 mano , e che 1' opera mia terminafTe. Dunqne a 
 lei fola debbo le grazie di cuella poca che per- 
 avventura li trova nella prefente fatica : fapendo che 
 Tonnipotenza fua , avvezza a trarre maraviglie dal 
 rozzo ed informe caos , cosi da quello molto piii 
 rozzo ed informe della mia mente,^abbia anche 
 tratto quefto parto, fenon per altro, per eflerfacro, 
 e perche, per cosi dire, parlafle un mutolo in per- 
 fona mia, per la poverta dell' ingegno come fuole 
 all'incontro faramutire le piu felici lingue qnando 
 s' impiegano in cofe brutte e profane. Vedafi dnn- 
 que con 1' occhio della difcrezione, ne fi biaiimi 
 peravventura la poverta dello ftile . la poca gra- 
 vita nel portar delle cofe , la flerilita de' concetd, 
 la debolezza degli fpiriti , gli iniipidi fali , gli 
 ftravaganti epifodj , come a dire (per lafciare una 
 infinita d' altre cofe) che il mondo, la carne , 
 e '1 diavolo per tentare Adamo, in forma umana 
 gli s' apprefentino , poich' altro uomo ne altra 
 donna non v' era al mondo , poiche il ferpente 
 
APPENDIX. 3q5 
 
 and here, taking courage in my greateft doubt, 
 I formed, 1 know not how, a beginning; I ad- 
 vanced, if I may fay fo, \vithout any determinate 
 plan, and arrived at the end before I was aware. 
 Whence I am inchned to believe, that the favor 
 of God , regarding rather my good intentions 
 than my defects (for as he often withdraws the 
 heart of man from evil , fo he conducts it infen- 
 fibly to good) gave dire6iion to my hand , and 
 completed my work. Wherefore to that alone 
 I am indebted for the little grace that may per- 
 haps be found in the prefent labor; knowing 
 that as omnipotence is accuftomed to produce 
 wonders from the rude and unformed chaos , fo 
 from the ftill ruder chaos of my mind it may 
 have called forth this produdiion , if not for any 
 other purpofe , yet to be facred , and to make , 
 as it were , a mute fpeak in my perfon , in de- 
 fpite of poverty of genius , as on the other hand 
 it is accuftomed to ftrike mute the moft eloquent 
 tongues 5 when they employ themfelves on fub- 
 je(^s low and profane. Let it be furveyed, there- 
 fore , with an eye of indulgence, and blame 
 not the poverty of flyle , the want of dignity in 
 the condu6\ of the circumftances, fterility of con- 
 ceits, weaknefs of fpirit, infipid pleafantries, and 
 extravagant epifodes; to mention, without fpeak- 
 ing of an infinitude of other things, that the world, 
 the flefli , and the devil , prefent themfelves in hu- 
 man fliapes to tempt Adam, fmce there was then 
 in the univerfe no other man or woman, and the 
 
326 APPENDIX. 
 
 fi moftro pure ad Eva con parte umana ; oltre 
 che fi fa qiiefto, perche le cofe fieno piu intefe 
 dair intelletto con que' mezzi, die a' fenfi s' afpet- 
 tano : pofciache in altra guifa come le tante 
 tentazioni che in un punto foflennero Adamo ed 
 Eva, furono nell' interno della lor mente, cosi 
 non ben capir lo fpettator le poteva. Ne fi de* 
 credere che paflaffe il ferpente con Eva difputa 
 lunga poiche la tento in un punto piu nella 
 mente che con la lingua, diccndo quelle parole; 
 " Nequaquam moriemini, Sc eritis ficut Dii," See. 
 e pur fara di mellieri, per efprimere quegli in- 
 terni contrafti , meditar qualche cofe per di fuori 
 rapprefentarli. Ma fe al pittor poeta muto , e 
 permefTo con caratteri di colore 1' efprimer 
 r antichita di Dio in perfona d' uomo tutto ca- 
 nuto , e dimoftrare in bianca colomba la purita 
 dello fpirito , e figurare i divini meffaggi che fono 
 gli angeli in perfona di giovani alati; perche non 
 e permeifo al poeta, pittor parlante, portar nella 
 tela del teatro altro uomo, altra donna, ch* 
 Adamo ed Eva? e rapprefentare quegli interni 
 contrafti per mezzo d'immagini , e voci pur tutte 
 umane? Oltre che par piu tolerabile I'intro- 
 durre in quefl' opera il demonio in umana figura, 
 di quel che fia I'introdur nell' ifteffa il Padre 
 eterno e 1' angelo flellb ; e pur fe quefto e 
 
APPENDIX. 327 
 
 ferpent difcovered himlelf (o Eve with a human 
 liniiutude; moreover, this is done ih.u the fub- 
 je61 may be belter comprehended by the un- 
 derftanding, through the medium of the fenfes; 
 fmce tlie great temptations that Adam and Eve 
 at once fufiained , were indeed in the interior of 
 their own mind, but could not be fo compre- 
 hended by the fpeclator; nor is it to be believed 
 that the ferpent held a long difpute with Eve, 
 fmce he tempted her rather by a fuggeRion to 
 her mind, than by conference, faying thefe words, 
 " Nequaquam moriemini , & eritis ficut Dii , 
 fcientes bonum Sc malum; and yet it will be ne- 
 ceffary , in order to exprefs thofe internal conten- 
 tions , to find fome expedient to give them an 
 outward reprefentation ; but if it is permitted to 
 the painter, who is a duujb poet, to exprefs by 
 colors God the Father, under the perfon of a 
 man filvered by age ; to defcribe, under the image of 
 a white dove, the purity of the fpirit; and to figure 
 the divine meffengers, or angels, under the ihape 
 of W'inged youths , why is it not permitted to the 
 poet, who is a fpeaking painter, to jreprefent , in 
 his theatrical producftion , another man and an- 
 other Avoman befides Adam and Eve , and to re- 
 prefent their internal conflifls through the me- 
 dium of images and voices entirely human, not 
 to mention that it ajjpears more allowable to 
 introduce in this work the devil under a human 
 fliape, than it is to introduce into it the eternal 
 Fatlier and an angel: and if this is perm.it'c-t; , 
 
 and 
 
328 APPENDIX. 
 
 permelTo , e fi vede tutto giorno efpreffo nelle rap- 
 prefentazioni facre, perche non fi ha da permettere 
 nella preiente dove fe il maggior fi concede, fi de' 
 coiiceder parimenteil minor male; rimira dunqne 
 lettor benigno piu la foflanza, che 1' accidente , 
 per cosi dire, contemplando nell' opera il fine di 
 portar nel teatro dell' anima la miferia , ed il 
 pianto d'Adamo , e fame fpettatore il tuo cuore 
 per alzarlo da quefte baffezze alle grandezze del 
 ciel , col mezzo della virtu e dell' aiuto di Dio, 
 il quale ti feliciti. 
 
 C4HORO d'Angeli cantand la Gloria 
 Di DIO. 
 
 A LLA lira del Ciel Iri fia 1* arco , 
 Corde le sfere fien , note le ftelle, 
 Sien le paufe e i fofpir 1' aure novelle , 
 E '1 tempo i t^mpi a mifurar non parco. 
 
 Quindi alle cetre eterne, al novo canto 
 S' aggiunga melodia, e lode a lode 
 Per colui , ch' oggi ai mondi, ai cieli, gode 
 Gran facitor moftrarfi eterno , e fanto. 
 
 O tu , che pria che fofle il cielo e '1 mondo , 
 In te flefro godendo e mondi e cieli , 
 Come punt' or da facrolanti teli , 
 Verfi di grazie un ocean profondo. 
 
 Deh tu , che '1 fai, grande amator fovrano , 
 Com' hau lingua d' amor, 1' opre cotante , 
 
 Tu 
 
APPENDIX. 3Q9 
 
 and feen every day exhibited in facred repre-. 
 fentations , why Ihould it not be allowed in the 
 prefent, where, if the greater evil is allowable, 
 finely the lefs Ihould be allo^ved : attend there-- 
 fore, gentle reader, more to the fubflance than 
 to the accident, confidering in the work the great 
 end of introducing into the theatre of the foul 
 the mifery and lamentation of Adam , to make 
 your heart a fpe(?lator of them, in order to raife 
 it from thefe dregs of earth to the magnificence 
 of heaven, through the medium of virtue and the 
 affiflance of God, by whom may you be bleiled, 
 
 CHORUS OF Angels fmging the Glory 
 OF GOD. 
 
 J[ o Heav'n's bright lyre let Iris be the bow , 
 Adapt the fpheres for chords, for notes the ftars, 
 Let new-born gales difcriminate the bars , 
 Nor let old time to meafure times be flow. 
 
 Hence to new mufic of the eternal lyre 
 Add richer harmony, and praife to praife, 
 For him, who now his wond'rous might difplays. 
 And fliows the univerfe its awful fire. 
 
 O thou, who ere the world, or heav'n, was made, 
 Didfl in thy felf that world, that heav'n enjoy, 
 How does thy bounty all its powers employ. 
 What inexpreffive good haft thou difplayed. 
 
 O thou, of fov'reign love almighty fource, 
 Who know'lt to make thy works thy love exprefs, 
 
 93 
 
33o APPENDIX. 
 
 Tu infpira ancor lode canore e fante. 
 Fa, ch' alio ftil s' accordi il cor, la mano. 
 Ch' all'or n' udrai ]' alt' opre tue lodando 
 Dir ; che fefti di nulla Angeli e gfere , 
 Ciel , mondo , pefci , augelli , moflri , e fere, 
 Aquile al fol de' tuoi gran rai fembrando. 
 
 ATTO PRIMO. 
 
 SCENA SECONDA. 
 
 L U C I F E R O. 
 
 V_jHi dal mio centro ofcuro, 
 
 Mi chiama a rimirar cotanta luce? * 
 
 Quai maraviglie nova, 
 
 Oggi mi fcopri O Dio? 
 
 Forfe fei ftanco d' albergar nel cielo? 
 
 Perch e crealli in terra, 
 
 Quel vago paradifo ? 
 
 Perch e reporvi poi 
 
 D' umana carne duo terreni del ? 
 
 Dimmi architetto vile , 
 
 Che di fan go opre fefti, 
 
 Ch' avverra di queft' uom povero, ignudo, 
 
 Di bofchi habitator folo , e di felve? 
 
 Forfe premer col pie crede le ftelle , 
 
 Impoverito e 1 ciel, cagione io folo 
 
 Fui di tanta ruina , ond' or ne godo. 
 
 Tefl'a pur ftella a ftella, 
 
APPENDIX. 33i 
 
 Let pure devotion's fire the foul poffefs, 
 And give the heart and hand a kindred force. 
 Tlien flialt thou hear, how, when the world begun, 
 TJiy life-producing voice gave myriads birth , 
 Call'd forth from nothing all in heav'n and earth, 
 Blefs'd in thy light as eagles in the fun. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 SCENE THE SECOND, 
 
 LUCIFER. 
 
 VV ^^ from my dark abyfs 
 
 Calls me to gaze on this excefs of light? 
 
 What miracles unfeen 
 
 Show'ft thou to me, O God? 
 
 Art thou then tired of refidence in Heav'n ? 
 
 Why haft thou raifed on earth 
 
 This lovely Paradife , 
 
 And wherefore placed in it 
 
 Two earthly demi-gods of human mould? 
 
 Say, thou vile architect, 
 
 Forming thy works ofduft, 
 
 What will befal this naked helplefs man , 
 
 The fole inhabitant of glens and woods ? 
 
 Does he then dream of treading on the Itars? 
 
 Heav'n is impoverifh'd , and I , alone 
 
 The caufe, enjoy the ruin I produced: 
 
 Let him unite above 
 
33'2 APPENDIX. 
 
 V aggiunga e luna, e iole, 
 
 S' afFatichi pur Dio , 
 
 Per far di novo il ciel lucido adorno, 
 
 Ch' al jfiri 5 con biafmo e fcorno, 
 
 Vana 1' opra fara , vano il fudore, 
 
 ¥u Lucifero fol quell' ampia luce, 
 
 Per cui fplendeva in mille raggi il cielo ; 
 
 Ma quefte faci or i'ue fon ombre e fumi, 
 
 O de' gran lumi miei, baftardi lumi 
 
 II ciel che die fi fia faper non voglio, 
 
 Che che fi fia queft uom' faper non euro, 
 
 Troppo oftinato e duro , 
 
 E '1 mio forte penfiero, 
 
 In moftrarmi implacabile , e fevero , 
 
 Contra il ciel, contra 1' uom , 1' angelo , e Dio. 
 
 ATTO TERZO. 
 
 SCENA PRIMA. 
 
 ADAMO, EVA. 
 
 (_} MIA compagna amata, 
 
 O di quefta mia vita 
 
 Vero cor , cara vita ; 
 
 Si frettolofa adunque ali vibrando 
 
 Peregrina inceffante 
 
 Per ritrovar Adamo , 
 
 Solinn-a andavi errando? 
 
 Eccolo; che I'imponi P Parla omai 
 
 Tanto indugi? deh chiede; O Dio, che fai? 
 
A P P E N D I X. 333 
 
 Star upon Itar , moon , fun , 
 
 And let his Godhead toil 
 
 To re-adorn and re-illume his heav'n; 
 
 Since in the end derifion 
 
 Shall prove his works, and all his efforts, vain; 
 
 P'or Lucifer alone uas that full light, 
 
 Which fcatter'd radiance o'er the plains of Heav'n. 
 
 But thefe his prefent fires are fliade andfmoke, 
 
 Bafe counterfeits of my more potent beams; 
 
 I reck not what he means to make his heav'n j 
 
 Nor care I what this creature man may be, 
 
 Too obftinate and firm 
 
 Is my undaunted thought 
 
 In proving that I am implacable, 
 
 'Gainft heav'n, 'gainft man, the angels,and their God, 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 O MY belov'd companion , 
 
 O thou of my exiflence 
 
 The very heart and foul, 
 
 Haft thou , with fuch excefs of tender hafte , 
 
 With ceafelefs pilgrimage, 
 
 To find again thy Adam 
 
 Thus folitary wandered? 
 
 Behold him, fpeak , what are thy gentle orders? 
 
 Why doft thou paufe? O God, what art thou doing? 
 
534 APPENDIX. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 O cnriflimo Adamo , 
 
 O mia fcorta, o mio duce 
 
 Ch' a rallegrar ch' a folazzar m' induce ; 
 
 Sol' io te defiava , 
 
 E tra fi grati orrori, 
 
 Solo te ricercava. 
 
 ADAMO. 
 
 Poiche ti lice Adamo 
 
 (Belliflima compagna) 
 
 Del tno gioir nomar radice, e fonte, 
 
 Eva , fe '1 venir meco , 
 
 Or t' aggrada , mollrarti arnica , intendo 
 
 Cofa non piii veduta; 
 
 Cofa si vaga, che per maraviglia 
 
 Inarcherai le ciglia ; 
 
 Mira, fpofa gentile, in qnella parte 
 
 Di cosifolta, e verdeggiante felva 
 
 Dov' ogni augel s' infelva 
 
 La dove appunto quelle due si bianche 
 
 Colombe vanno con aperto volo; 
 
 Ivi appunto vedrai (o maraviglia) 
 
 Forger tra molli fiori 
 
 Un vivo umore , il qual con torto paiTo 
 
 Si frettolofo fngge 
 
 E fuggendo t' alletta , 
 
 Ch' e forza dlr; ferma bel rivo, afpetta : 
 
 Qulndi vago in feguirlo 
 
 Tu pur il fegui , ed ei come s' avefle 
 
APPENDIX. 335 
 
 EVE. 
 
 Adam, my befl beloved, 
 
 My guardian and my guide, 
 
 Thou fource of all my comfort, all my joy, 
 
 Tliee, thee alone I wifli , 
 
 And in thefe pleafing horrors 
 
 Thee only have I fought. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Since thou may'ft call thy Adam 
 
 (Moft beautiful companion) 
 
 The fource and happy fountain of thy joy, 
 
 Eve ; if to walk with me 
 
 It now may pleafe thee , I will lliow thee , love , 
 
 A fight thou haft not feen , 
 
 A fight fo lovely, that in wonder thou 
 
 Wilt arch thy graceful brow; 
 
 Look thou , my gentle bride , towards that path 
 
 Of this fo intricate and verdant grove , 
 
 Where fit the birds embower'd ; 
 
 Juft there, where now, with foft and fnowy 
 
 plumes, 
 Two focial doves have fpread their wings for flight ; 
 Juft there thou Ihalt behold (O pleafing wonder) 
 Springing amid the flow'rs, 
 A living ftream , that with a winding courfe 
 Flies rapidly away, 
 And as it flies allures, 
 
 And tempts you to exclaim, fweet river flay; 
 Hence, eager in purfuit, 
 You follow , and the ftream , as if it had 
 
Jjb APPENDIX. 
 
 Brama di fcherzar teco, 
 
 Fra mille occnlte vie dipiiite, erbofe 
 
 Anzi note a lui fol celato fugge : 
 
 Pofcia qiiand' egli albolta, 
 
 Che tu t' ailliggi , perche V hai fmarrito 
 
 Alza la chioma acquofa , e par che dica 
 
 A gorgogliar d' iin lifo , 
 
 Segui pur fegui , il molle pafib mio, 
 
 Che fe godi di me, con te Icherz' io ; 
 
 Cosi con dolce inganno alfin ti guida 
 
 Sin air eftrema cima 
 
 D'un pradcel fiorito; ed egli allora, 
 
 Con veloce dimora , 
 
 Dice : rimand ; addio, gia, gia, ti lafcio 
 
 Poi fi dirupa al bafTo W 
 
 Ne fegiiirlo potendo nmane piante 
 
 Forz' e che I'occhio il fegua ; e la tu miri 
 
 Come gran copia d' acqua in cerchio anguflo 
 
 Accoglie in cupa , e fruttuofa valle 
 
 D' allor cinta, e d'ulive, 
 
 Di ciprefh ; d' aranci , e d' alti pini; 
 
 II qual limpido umore , ai rai del fole , 
 
 Sembra un puro criflallo: 
 
 Ouind' e che nel bel fondo 
 
 Nel criftallin dell' onda 
 
 Tralucer miri ricca arena d' ore 
 
 TA un mobile argento 
 
 Di cento pefci , e cento : 
 
 Qui con note canore, 
 
 Candidi cigni alia bell' onda intorno; 
 
 Fanno dolce foggiorno, 
 
APPENDIX. 337 
 
 Defire to fport with you, 
 
 Thro' many a florid, many a graffy way, 
 
 Well known to him, in foft concealment flies; 
 
 But when at lenirth he hears 
 
 You are aflliciied to have lofl: his fiaht 
 
 He rears his watry locks, and feems to fay, 
 
 Gay with a gurgling ftnile , 
 
 P'olloWjah follow flill my placid courfe, 
 
 If thou art pleafed with me, with thee I fport; 
 
 And thus, with fweet deceit, he leads you on 
 
 To the extremefl; bound 
 
 Of a fair flow'ry meadow, then at once. 
 
 With quick impediment, 
 
 Says, flop , adieu, for now, yes, now I leave you, 
 
 Then down a rock defcends; 
 
 There, as no human foot can follow farther. 
 
 The eye alone muft follow him, and tliere, 
 
 In little fpace , you fee a mafs of water 
 
 Colle6]ed in a deep and fruitful vale. 
 
 With laurel crowned and olive. 
 
 With cyprefs , oranges, and lofty pines; 
 
 The limpid water in the fun's bright ray 
 
 A perfect cryflal feems ; 
 
 Hence in its deep recefs , 
 
 In the tranflucent wave, 
 
 You fee a precious glittering fand of gold, 
 
 And bright as moving filver 
 
 Innum.erahle fifli; 
 
 Here with melodious notes 
 
 The fnowy fwans upon the Ihining ftreams 
 
 Form their fweet refidence , 
 
338 APPENDIX. 
 
 E fembran gorgheggiando all' aura dire 
 Qui fermi il pie chi brama a pien gioire. 
 Sicche cara compagna 
 Meco venir ti caglia. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Cosi ben la tua lingua mi fcoperfe 
 
 Quel, che moflrarmi afpiri, ^ 
 
 Che '1 fugitivo rivo miro fcherzante, 
 
 E r odo mormorante; 
 
 Ben anco e vaga quefta parte ov' ora 
 
 Facciam grato foggiorno , e qui fors' anco , 
 
 Piu ch' al trove , biancheggia il vago giglio 
 
 E s' invermiglia la nafcente rofa ; 
 
 Ouinci anco rusfiadofe. 
 
 Son I'erbette minute , 
 
 Colorite da' ftori ; 
 
 Qui le piante frondute 
 
 Stendono a gara l' ombre, 
 
 S' ergono al ciel pompofe. 
 
 ADA M 0. 
 
 Or al frefco dell' ombre, 
 
 Al bel di qnefte piante, 
 
 Al vezzofo de' pr.ui , 
 
 Al dipinto de' fiori, 
 
 Al mormorar dell' acque e degli augelli , 
 
 Affediamoci lieti. 
 
 E V A. 
 
 Eccomi affifa , 
 
 O £ome godo in rlmirar non folo, 
 
A P P E N D I X. 339 
 
 And feem in warbling to the wind to fay, 
 Here let thofe reft vvlio wifli for perfe6i joy. 
 So that, my dear companion, 
 To walk with me will pleafe thee, 
 
 EVE. 
 
 So well thy language to my fight has brought 
 
 What thou defiredft to fliow me, 
 
 I fee thy flying river as it fports , 
 
 And hear it as it murmurs: 
 
 And beauteous alfo is this fcene where now 
 
 Pleas'd we fojourn; and here, perhaps e'en here 
 
 The lily whitens with the pureft luftre, 
 
 And the rofe reddens with the richefl hue j 
 
 Here alfo batli'd in dew , 
 
 Plants of minuteft growth 
 
 Are painted all with flowers; 
 
 Here trees of ampleft leaf 
 
 Extend their rival fhades. 
 
 And ftately rife to heav'n. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 No^v by thefe cooling fliades, 
 
 The beauty of thefe plants , 
 
 By thefe delightful meadows, 
 
 Thefe variegated floAv'rs , 
 
 By the foft mufic of the rills and birds, 
 
 Let us fit down in joy. 
 
 EVE. 
 Behold then I am feated ; 
 How I rejoice in viewing, not alone. 
 
340 APPENDIX. 
 
 Qiiefti fior, qnefle erbette, e quante piante 
 
 Ma I'Adamo, 1' Amante. 
 
 Tii tu fei quel per cui vezzofi i prati 
 
 Piu mi fembrano , e cari, 
 
 Piu coloriti i frutti , e i fonti cari. 
 
 ADAM 0. 
 
 Non pon tanti arrecarmi 
 
 Leggiadri fior quefti be' campi adorni , 
 
 Che vie pin vaghi fiori io non rimiri 
 
 Nel bel giardin del tuo leggiadro voltoj • 
 
 Datevi pace o fiori , 
 
 Non fon mendaci i detti , 
 
 Voi da rugiade aeree afperfe fiete, 
 
 Voi lieto fate umil terreno erbofo , 
 
 Ad un fol fiammeggiar d' accefo fole, 
 
 Ma col cader del fol voi pur cadrete. 
 
 Ma gli animati fiori, 
 
 D' Eva mia cara e bella , 
 
 Vanfi ogn' ora irrigando, 
 
 Dalle calde rugiade , 
 
 Ch' ella fparfe per gioia, 
 
 II fuo fattor lodando , 
 
 Ed al rotar di duo terreni foli, 
 
 Nel ciel della fua fronte 
 
 S'ergon per non cadere , 
 
 II vago Paradifo 
 
 Ornando d'un bel vifo. 
 
APPENDIX. 341 
 
 Thefe f]o\\''rs , thefe herbs, thefe high and grace- 
 ful pLints. 
 
 But Adam, more my lover, 
 
 Thou, thou art he by whom the meadoAvs feem 
 
 More beautiful to me, 
 
 The fruit more blooming , and the ftreams more 
 clear. 
 
 ADA M. 
 
 Thefe decorated fields , 
 
 With all their flow'ry tribute , cannot equal 
 
 Thofe lovelier flowers that with delight I view 
 
 In the fair garden of your beauteous face; 
 
 Be pacified , ye flow'rs , ♦ 
 
 My words are not untrue,- 
 
 You fliine befprinkl'd with ethereal dew, 
 
 You give the humble earth to grow with joy 
 
 At one bright fparkle of the blazing fun ; 
 
 But with the falling fun ye alfo fall : 
 
 But thefe more living; flow'rs 
 
 Of my dear beauteous Eve 
 
 Seem frefhen'd every hour 
 
 By foft devotion's dew , 
 
 That fhe with pleafure flieds , 
 
 Praifing her mighty Maker; 
 
 And by the rays of two terreflrial funs, 
 
 In that pure Heav'n her face, 
 
 They rife, and not to fall, 
 
 Decking the Paradife 
 
 Of an enchanting vifage. 
 
3^2 APPENDIX. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Deh non voler Adamo , 
 
 Con facondia fonora. 
 
 L* orecchio armonizzar, dir Eva, io t' amoj 
 
 Troppo s' affida il core 
 
 Che sfavilli di puro e fanto ardore; 
 
 Or tu ricevi in camblo , o caro amico , 
 
 Quefto vermiglio don; ben lo conofci , 
 
 Quefl' e '1 porno vietato, 
 
 Queft' e 1 frutto beato. 
 
 ADAMO. 
 
 Laffo me ^ che rimiro ? oime , che felli , 
 Rapitrice del porno , 
 Da gran fignor vietato? 
 
 EVA, 
 
 Lunga fora il narrarti 
 
 La cagion, che m' induffe 
 
 A far preda del porno. Or bafti ch'io 
 
 D' ali impennati al ciel 1' acquillo feci. 
 
 ADAMO. 
 
 Ah non fia ver , non fia . 
 
 Ch' a te per efler grato 
 
 Mi moftri al cielo ribellante, ingrato, 
 
 E' n ubbidire a donna 
 
 Difubbidifca al mio Fattore, a Dio. 
 
 Dunque pena di morte 
 
 Non ti fe per terror le guance fmorte. 
 
APPENDIX, 343 
 
 E V E. 
 
 Dear Adam , do not feek 
 
 With tuneful eloquence 
 
 To footh my ear by fpeaking of thy love; 
 
 The heart is confident 
 
 That fondly flames with pure and hallow'd ardor; 
 
 In fweet exchange accept, my gentle love, 
 
 This vermeil tindur'd gift; you know it well; 
 
 This is the fruit forbidden; 
 
 This is the bleifed apple. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Alas ! what fee I ! Ah ! what haft thou done? 
 Invader of the fruit 
 Forbidden by thy God ! 
 
 EVE. 
 
 It would be long to tell 
 
 The reafon that induced me 
 
 To make this fruit my prey; let it fuffice, 
 
 I've gained thee wings to raife thy flight to heav'n. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Ne'er be it true , ah ! never , 
 
 That to obtain thy favor 
 
 I prove to Heav'n rebellious and ungrateful 
 
 And to obey a woman 
 
 So difobey my Maker and mv God. 
 
 Then did not death denounc'd 
 
 With terror's icy palenefs blanch thy cheek? 
 
 EVE. 
 
344 APPENDIX. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 E tu credi fe 1 porno 
 
 Efca fofle di morte, 
 
 Che 1' aveffe inalzato il gran cultore 
 
 Dov' eterna e la vita? 
 
 Stimi tu fe d' errore 
 
 Cagione foile il porno , 
 
 Ch' alle loci dell' uomo. 
 
 Si pomifero e vago , 
 
 Fertileggiar 1' aveife fatto ail' aure? 
 
 Ah fe cio folfe, ben n' avrebb' ei dato 
 
 Cagion d' alto peccato , 
 
 Poiche natura impone, 
 
 (Precettrice fagace) 
 
 Che per viver queft' uomo fi pafca e cibi, 
 
 E che conforme il bello , il buono ei creda. 
 
 A D A M O. 
 
 Se 1 celefte cultore , 
 
 Che i bei campi del cielo , 
 
 Seminati ha di flelle , 
 
 Era tante piante fruttofe, e belle 
 
 Pofe il vietato porno , 
 
 II piu bello , il piu dolce j 
 
 Fe per conofcer 1' uomo 
 
 Sagace offervator di voglia eccelfa, 
 
 E del gran meritar per dargli il modo ; 
 
 Che fol nome di forte avien che acquifli, 
 
 Chi fupera fe fteflb , e i proprj affetti : 
 
 Ben avria di peccar ragion queft' uomo , 
 
 Quando di pochi frutti, 
 
 I 
 
 Folfe 
 
APPENDIX. $\5 
 
 EVE. 
 
 And think'fl: thou , if the apple 
 
 Were but the fruit of death, 
 
 The great Producer would have raifed it there, 
 
 Where being is eternal ; 
 
 Think'fl thou , that if of error 
 
 This fruit tree were the caufe. 
 
 In man's delighted eye 
 
 So fertile and fo fair 
 
 He would have form'd it flourifliing in air? 
 
 Ah ! were it fo , he would indeed have giv'n 
 
 A caufe of high offence, 
 
 Since nature has ordain'd 
 
 (A monitrefs fagaciousj 
 
 That to fupport his being man mufl eat, 
 
 And trufl in what looks fair as juft and good. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 If the celeftial tiller , 
 
 Who the fair face of heav'n 
 
 Has thickly fown with flars, 
 
 Amidfl fo many plants, fruitful and fair, 
 
 Placed the forbidden apple, 
 
 The faireft and moft fweet , 
 
 'T was to make proof of man 
 
 As a wife keeper of his heav'nly law, 
 
 And to afford him fcope for high defert; 
 
 For he alone may gain the name of brave 
 
 Who rules himfelf, and all his own defires; 
 
 Man might, indeed, find fome excufe for fin, 
 
 If fcantily with fruits 
 
246 THE LIFE or iM I L i N. 
 
 and the chief utility that arifes from tliis attrac- 
 tive brancli of literature confifts in the affedionate 
 intereft, which it difplays and communicates in 
 favor of the talents and probity that it afpires to 
 celebrate; hence the moft engaging pieces of bio- 
 graphy are thofe that have been written by re- 
 lations of the deceafed. This remark Is exem- 
 plified in the life of Agricola by Tacitus, and 
 in that of Racine, the dramatic poet, written 
 by his fon , who , was alfo a poet, and addrefled 
 to his grand fon. 
 
 It has been the lot o-f Milton to have his life 
 frequently defcribed, and recently, by a very- 
 powerful author, who, had he loved the cha- 
 racter lie engaged to delineate, might, perhaps, 
 have latisfied the admirers of the poet, and clofed 
 the lift of his numerous biographers. But the 
 very wonderful mind of Johnfon was fo embit- 
 tered by prejudice, that in delineating a cha- 
 racter confeffediy pre-eminent in eminent accom- 
 pliihments, in genius, and in piety, he perpe- 
 tually endeavours to reprefent him as unamiable, 
 and inftead of attributing any miftaken opinions 
 that he might entertain to fuch fources as charity 
 and reafon confpire to fnggelt , imputes them to fup- 
 pofed vices in his mind, moft foreign to his nature, 
 and the very worfl that an enemy could imagine. 
 
 In the courfe of this narrative I have confi- 
 dered it as a duty incumbent upon me to no- 
 tice and counteract, as they occurred, many im- 
 portant flrokes of the hoftility which I am now 
 
THE LIFE OF MILTON. Q47 
 
 lamenting, thefe become fiill more remarkable in 
 that portion of the biographer's labor to which 
 I am at length arrived ; it is in difTe^iing the mind 
 of Milton , if 1 may nfe fuch an exprelhon , that 
 Johnfon indulges the injurious intemperance of 
 his hatred. " It is to be fufpe6ied (he fays) that 
 " his predominant dehre was to deflroy rather 
 *' than efiablifli ; and that he felt not fo much 
 *' the love of liberty as repugnance to authority." 
 Such a fufpicion may indeed he harboured by 
 poHtical rancor, but it mufl be in dire^i oppofi- 
 tion toijuftice and truth; for of all men who 
 have ^vritten or a^led in the fervice of liberty , 
 there is no individual , \vho has proved more 
 completely, both by his language and his life, 
 that he made a perfect diflincTtion between li- 
 berty and licentioufnefs. No human fpirit could 
 be more fmcerely a lover of jufi and beneficent 
 authority ; for no m^an delighted more in peace 
 and order; no man has written more eloquently 
 in their praife , or given fublimer proofs of his 
 own perlonal attachment to them by the regula- 
 tion of his own orderly and peaceful ftudies. If 
 he hated power (as Jolmfon afferts in every ef- 
 tabliflied form, he hated not its falutary influ- 
 ence, but its pernicious exertions. Vehement as 
 he occafionally was againlt kings and prelates , he 
 fpoke of the feciaries with equal indignation and ab- 
 horrence when they alfo became the agents of per- 
 fecution; and as he had fully feen, and has forcibly 
 expofed, the grofs failings of republican reformers. 
 
3i8 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 EVA. 
 So ch' altro non defiri, 
 Che le lagrime mie, che i miei fofpiri, 
 Ond' or a' vcnti, a' mari, 
 Porgo tributi amari. 
 
 A D A IVI O. 
 Ahi mi fpezza il core , 
 Che far deggia non fo j s' io miro il cielo 
 Sento vagarmi un gielo , 
 Per r ofTe che mi ftrugge , 
 Vago fol d' offervar precetli eterni : 
 Se la compagna miro 
 
 Piango al fuo pianto , a' fuoi fofpir fofpiro , 
 E mi ftruggo e m' accoro , 
 S' ubbidirla rifiuto : il cor amante 
 Fa ch' al porno veloce apra la mano. 
 L' alma nel fen dubbiante 
 La rifpinge e la chiiide; 
 Mifero Adamo, o quanti 
 Accampano il tuo cor varii defiri, 
 Qui per 1' un tu fofpiri , 
 Per r altro godi , ne faper t' e date 
 Se tn farai piegato, 
 Da fofpiri o da gioia 
 Dalla donna o da Dio. 
 
 EVA. 
 E pur penfa, e penfando, 
 Vuol ch' Eva fola in bando, 
 Ponga d' elfer felice , 
 Nel fublimar queft' uomo, 
 E pur oime ho d' ogni altezza il porno. 
 
APPENDIX. 349 
 
 E V E., 
 I know your fole defire 
 Is to be witnels to my fighs and tears;, 
 Hence to the winds and feas , , 
 
 I pay this bitter tribute. 
 
 ADAM. 
 Alas , my heart is fplitting ! 
 What can I do? When I look up tq heav'n 
 I feel an icy tremor, 
 E'en thro' my bones, opprefs me; 
 Anxious alone to guard the heav'nly precept, 
 If I furvey my partner, 
 I fliare her tears and echo back her fighs; 
 *T is torture and diflra^iion 
 To wound her with refufal : my kind heart 
 Would teach my op'ning hand to feize the apple, 
 But in my doubtful breaft 
 My fpirit bids it clofe : 
 Adam, thou wretch, how many 
 Various defires befiege thy trembling heart; 
 One prompts thee now to figh , 
 Another to rejoice, nor canft thou know 
 Which fliall incline thee moft, 
 Or fighs or joyous favor 
 From woman or from God. 
 EVE. 
 Yet he refle^ls and wifiies 
 That Eve Ihould now forfake 
 Her hope of being happy 
 In elevating man , 
 E'en while I hold the fruit of exaltation. 
 
35o APPENDIX. 
 
 ADAM 0. 
 
 Muti SI , ma eloquent! , 
 
 Sono i tuo' fguardi amica, 
 
 Oime quanto chiedete, 
 
 Quaiito, quanto ottenete, 
 
 Pria, che parli la lingua, il cor conceda, 
 
 Occhi foli deir alma, 
 
 Pill il bel ci'el della fronte 
 
 Non fia che tenebrate; 
 
 Tornate oime tornate ; 
 
 A fugatr a iiTaggiar guancia nembofa; 
 
 Alza , alza , la fronte , 
 
 Da quella malTa d' or, che '1 volto inchioma 
 
 Da que' raggi di fole 
 
 Bei leganli del cor, lampo degli occhi 
 
 Fa -c^ie la chioma bella , 
 
 Oggi leve e vagante 
 
 La portin 1' aure, e fi difcopra il vifo 
 
 Della gloria d' un cor bel paradifo 
 
 Mi difpongo ubbidirti, 
 
 Sono imperi i tuoi preghi , 
 
 Sii, su , negli occhi e nelle labbra intanto, 
 
 Fa balenar il rifo, afciuga il pianto. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Deh mifcredente Adamo , 
 
 Ricevitor cortefe 
 
 Fati omai di bel frutto , 
 
 Corri , corri oggimai, tocchi la mano, 
 
 D' efca beante il fortunato fegno. 
 
APPENDIX. 35l 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Tho' mute yet eloquent 
 
 Are all your looks, my love; 
 
 Alas, whate'er you aik 
 
 You 're certain to obtain, 
 
 And my heart grants before your tongue can fpeat.: 
 
 Eyes that to me are funs , 
 
 The heav'n of that fweet face, 
 
 No more, no more obfcure, 
 
 Return, alas, return 
 
 To fcatter radiance o'er that cloudy cheek : 
 
 Lift up , O lift thy brow 
 
 From that foft mafs of gold that curls around it. 
 
 Locks like the folar rays , 
 
 Chains to my heart, and lightning to my eyes, 
 
 let thy lovely treffes , 
 Now light and unconfined , 
 
 Sport in the air, and all thy face difclofe 
 That paradife that fpeaks a heart divine. 
 
 1 yield thee full obedience; 
 Thy prayers are all commands; 
 
 Dry, dry thy ftreaming eyes, and on thy lips 
 Let tender fmiles like harmlefs light'ning play. 
 
 EVE. 
 
 Ah mifbelieving Adam, 
 
 Be now a kind receiver 
 
 Of this delightful fruit ; 
 
 Haften , now haften to extend thy hand 
 
 To prels this banquet of beatitude. 
 
33q appendix. 
 
 ADAM 0. 
 
 DolcifTima compagna 
 
 Mira il caro amatore 
 
 Scacciali omai dal core 
 
 I.e firti d' afpro duolo , a lui volgendo 
 
 Di caro polo defiderate flelle : 
 
 Scoprimi il vago pomo 
 
 Che tra fior, che tra frondi 
 
 (Accorta involatrice) a me nafcondi. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Eccoti Adamo il pomo : 
 
 Che fii dir ? lo guftai , ne fon gia morta , 
 
 Ah che viver dovradi 
 
 Anzi farci nel ciel fimili a Dio ; 
 
 Ma prja convien, che '1 pomo 
 
 Tutto fra noi fi gufli , 
 
 Indi pofcia guftato 
 
 A bel trono di rai , trono ftellato , 
 
 Ne condurran gli angeli lieti a volo. 
 
 ADAMO. 
 
 Dammi il frutto rapito 
 
 Rapitrice cortefe, 
 
 Dammi il frutto gradito; 
 
 S' ubbidifca a chi tanto, 
 
 Per farmi un Dio ha faticato e pianto 
 
 Oime lafTo , che feci ? 
 
 Quale mi fcende al cor acuta fpina 
 
 Di fubitano duolo? 
 
APPENDIX. 353 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 O my moft fweet companion , 
 
 Behold tliy ardent lover 
 
 Now banilli from his heart 
 
 The whirlpool of affliction , tnrn'd to him 
 
 His deareft guide, his radiant polar flar: 
 
 Sliow me that lovely apple, 
 
 Which, 'midft thy flow'rs and fruits, 
 
 Ingenious plunderer , thou hid'fl from me, 
 
 EVE. 
 
 Adam, behold the apple : ^ 
 
 What fay 'ft thou ? I have tafted , and yet live. 
 
 Ah, 't will enfure our lives, 
 
 And make us equal to our God in heav'n; 
 
 But firft the fruit entire 
 
 We muft between us eat, 
 
 And when we have enjoyed it, 
 
 Then to a radiant throne, a throne of flars. 
 
 Exulting angels will dire6l our flight. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Give me the pilfer'd fruit, 
 
 Thou courteous pilferer. 
 
 Give me the fruit that charms thee, 
 
 And let me yield to her, 
 
 AVho to make me a god , has toiled and wept. 
 
 Alas ! what have I done ! 
 
 How fliarp a thorn is piercing in my heart 
 
 With inftantaneous anguilhj 
 
3-54 APPENDIX. 
 
 Oime qua! mi fommerge 
 Vafto ocean di pianto? 
 
 EVA. 
 LalTome, ciie rimiroP 
 O conofcenza acerba, o vifta nova, 
 II tutto s'arma al precipizio umano. 
 
 A D A M 0. 
 Ahi cara libertade ove fe' gita? 
 
 EVA. 
 
 O cara libertade, o fier fervaggio. 
 
 A D A M O. 
 
 E quefto e '1 dolce frutto, 
 Cagion di tanto amaro? 
 Dimmi , perche tradirmi? 
 Perche del ciel privarmi? 
 Deh pirche mi traefli 
 Dallo flato innocente 
 Dove lieto i' godea vita felice?" 
 Perche foggetto farmi, 
 Di morte alle crud' armi 
 Tu pur, cli' eri mia vita. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Fui cieca. talpa al bene, 
 Fui troppo occhiuta al male, 
 Fui d' Adamo nemica, 
 Fui contro Dio rubella; 
 
APPENDIX. 355 
 
 HoAv am I ovenvhelm'-d 
 In a vaft Hood of tears. 
 
 EVE. 
 
 Ala? ! what do I fee? 
 
 Oh bitter knowledge, unexpe^ed fight I 
 
 All is prepared for human mifery. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 O precious liberty, where art thou fled? 
 
 EVE. 
 
 precious liberty ! O dire enthralment ! 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Is this the fruit fo fweet, 
 
 The fource of fo much bitter ? 
 
 Say, why would'ft thou betray me? 
 
 Ah why of he^av'n deprive me ? 
 
 Why make me forfeit thus 
 
 My flate of innocence , 
 
 Where cheerful I enjoy a blifsful life? 
 
 Why make me thus a flave 
 
 To the fierce arms of death , 
 
 Thou whom I deemed my life ? 
 
 E V E. 
 
 1 have been blind to good, 
 Quick- fighted but to evil^ 
 An enemy to Adam, 
 
 A rebel to my God ; 
 
4-56 APPENDIX. 
 
 E per ofar d'alzarmi, 
 Alle porte del cielo , 
 Alle foglie cadei del balTo inferno. 
 
 ADAM 0. 
 
 Ahi qnial dardo divin mi fembra il cielo , 
 Rotar di fiamme accefo? 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Ahi qual flagello 
 
 LaiTa mene fovrafta ? Oime fon nuda , 
 
 E con Adamo i' parlo? 
 
 A D A M 0. 
 Nudo fon? Chi mi cela? io parto. 
 
 EVA. 
 Io fuggo. Exeunt. 
 
 i 
 
A PPENDIX. 357 
 
 For daring to exalt me 
 
 To the high gates of heav'n , 
 
 I fall prefumptuous to the depths of hell. 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Alas , what dart divine appears in heav'n , 
 Blazing with circling flame ? 
 
 EVE. 
 
 What punifhment, 
 Wretch that I am, hangs o'er me ? Am I naked. 
 And fpeaking flill to Adam ? 
 
 ADAM. 
 
 Am I too naked ? Shelter, hence. 
 
 EVE. 
 
 I fly. Exeunt. 
 
358 APPENDIX. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE DRAMA 
 
 ENTITLED, 
 
 La Scena Tragica d ADAMO ed EVA. 
 
 Da troilo lancetta benacense. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 God 
 
 C^OMMEMORATES his Creation of the heavens , 
 the earth, and the water — determines to make 
 man— gives him vital fpirit, and admonifhes him 
 to revere his maker , and live innocent. 
 
 SCENE 2. 
 
 Raphael, Michael, Gabriel, and Angels. 
 
 Raphael praifes the works of God — the other 
 angels follow his example, particularly in regard 
 to man. 
 
 SCENE?. 
 
 God and Adam. 
 
 God gives paradife to Adam to hold as a fiei 
 —•forbids him to touch the apple — Adam pro-] 
 mifes obedience. 
 
 i 
 
APPENDIX. 359 
 
 SCENE 4. 
 
 Adam 
 
 Acknowledges the beneficence of God , and 
 retires to repofe in the fhade. 
 
 End of the Firjt A£l. 
 
 ACT THE SECOiVD. 
 
 S C E N E X. 
 God and Adam. 
 
 CjrOD refolves to form a companion for Adam , 
 and does fo while Adam is fleeping — he then 
 awakes Adam , and prefenting to him his new 
 affociate, bleffes them both; then leaves them, 
 recommending obedience to his commands. 
 
 SCENE 2. 
 Adam and Eve. 
 Adam receives Eve as his wife — praifes her, 
 and entreats her to join with him in revering and 
 obeying God — (he promifes fubmiffion to his will, 
 and entreats his infl:ru(^ion — he tells her the pro- 
 hibition, and enlarges on the beauties of Paradife 
 — on his fpeaking of flocks, Ihe defires to fee them, 
 and he departs to fhow her the various animals. 
 
 SCENE 5. 
 
 Lucifer, Belial, Satan. 
 Lucifer laments his expulfion from heaven , 
 and meditates revenge againfl man — the other 
 
36o APPENDIX. 
 
 demons relate tlie caufe of their expulfion , and 
 flimiilate Lucifer to the revenge he meditates — 
 he refolves to employ the Serpent. 
 
 SCENE 4. 
 
 The Serpent, Eve, Lucifer. 
 
 The Serpent queftions Eve — derides her fear 
 and her obedience — tempts her to tafle the apple 
 — flie exprelles her eagernefs to do fo — the Ser- 
 pent exults in the profpe6t of her perdition — 
 Lucifer (^vho feems to remain as a feparate per- 
 fon from the Serpent) expreffes alfo his exul- 
 tation, and fteps afide to liften to a dialogue 
 between Adam and Eve. 
 
 S C E N. E <}. 
 
 Eve, Adam. 
 
 Eve declares her refolution to tafte the apple, 
 and prefent it to hei- hufband — flie taftes ir, and 
 expreffes unufual hope and animation — flie fays 
 the Serpent has not deceived her — -flie feels no 
 fign of death, and prefents the fruit to her hufband 
 — he reproves her — flie perfifts in preffing him 
 to eat — he complies — declares the fruit fweet, 
 but begins to tremble at his own nakednefs — he 
 repents, and expreffes his remorfe and terror — 
 Eve propofes to form a covering of leaves — they 
 retire to hide themfelves in foliage. 
 
 End of the Second Adl. 
 
 ACT 
 
APPENDIX. 36l 
 
 ACT THE THIRD. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Lucifer, Belial, Satan. 
 
 JLuciFER exults in his fuccefs , and the other 
 demons applaud him. 
 
 SCENE 2. 
 
 Raphael, Michael, Gabriel. 
 
 Thefe good fpirits lament the fall , and retire 
 with awe on the appearance of God. 
 
 SCENE J. 
 
 God, Eve, Adam. 
 
 God calls on Adam — -he appears and laments 
 his nakednefs — God interrogates him concerning 
 the tree — he confefl'es his offence, and accufes 
 Eve — flie blames the Serpent — God pronounces 
 his malediction, and fends them from his prefence. 
 
 SCENE 4- 
 
 Raphael, Eve, and Adam. 
 
 Raphael bids them depart from Paradife-— 
 Adam laments his deftiny — Raphael perfifts in 
 driving them rather harfiily from the garden — - 
 Adam begs that his innocent children may not 
 fuffer for the fault of their mother — Raphael 
 replies , that not only his children , but all his 
 
 q5 
 
36s ' APPENDIX. 
 
 race, muft fufFer, and continues to drive them 
 from the garden — Adam obeys — Eve laments, 
 but foon comforts Adam — he at length departs , 
 animating himfelf with the idea, that to an in- 
 trepid heart every region is a home. 
 
 SCENE 5. 
 
 A Cherub, 
 
 Moralizing on the creation and fall of Adam , 
 concludes the third and laft ad. 
 
 JF I N I S. 
 
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