firmity, and difficult utterance of speech (which, to say the truth, I doubt was the principal cause of excusing her) the other two were condemn'd to the performance of reading, and exactly pronouncing of all the languages of whatever book he should at one time or other think fit to peruse; viz. the Hebrew, (and I think the Syriac,) the Greek, the Latin, the Italian, Spanish, and French. All which sort of books to be confined to read, without understanding one word, must needs be a trial of patience almost beyond endurance; yet it was endured by both for a long time. Yet the irksomeness of this employment could not be always concealed, but broke out more into expressions of uneasiness; so that, at length they were all, even the eldest also, sent out to learn some curious and ingenious sorts of manufacture, that are proper for women to learn, particularly embroideries in gold and silver.** Can it be, that Milton should thus impose upon his daughters, a task which no human patience could endure, and then charge them with filial ingratitude for at length breaking into expressions of uneasiness? And, after seeing their preparation for future life thus totally neglected, and themselves at length put out to trades beneath their birth and station, must we be told by Mr. Godwin, that we are not to suppose he was neglectful of their best interests?' The first married a carpenter; the second died single; and the third became the wife of a poor weaver, in Spitalfields. We are not among those, who are ready to sacrifice the good name of all others to the reputation of Milton; and, if we have contributed to rescue from infamy the characters of three daughters, who seem to have suffered quite as much sin as they committed, we shall think ourselves sufficiently excused for the prolixity of this examination. *Ph. ap. Godw. 381. + Godw. Phh. p. 127. Wart. note at the end of the will, and obs. on Milton's portraits. The wife, whose conduct has occasioned this digression, was Elizabeth Minshull, of a genteel family, in Cheshire. Milton is said to have married her at the recommendation of his friend Dr. Paget; whose advice he solicited, and who doubtless thought his own kinswoman* would be a fit wife for any body. Milton lived in Germyn-street at the time of this marriage; but he removed, soon after, to a house in the Artillery-walk, leading to Bunhill-fields; which, says Phillips, was his last stage in this world.' From his small house in High-Holborn, where we left him, previous to his appointment of Latin secretary, he removed to one Thompson's, next door to the Bull-head tavern, at Charing Cross; which seems to have been a lodging taken,' says his nephew, 'till his designed apartment in Scotland yard' could be prepared for his reception.† For some reason or other, however, he quit his apartment' in Scotland yard, for a garden-house in Petty-France, in Westminster, opening into St. James Park; where he remained from 1652 till within a few weeks of the restoration. When he emerged from Bartholomew-close, he took a house in Holborn, near Red Lion Fields; whence he removed, as has been just stated, first to Jewin-street, and then to the Artillery-walk. 6 As he was now free of public employment, he devoted his whole time to three undertakings, which had been resumed, at every interval of leisure, for the last twenty years of his life;-a History of his own country, a Latin Dictionary, and an Epic Poem. We agree with Dr. Johnson, that, 'to collect a dictionary, seems a work, of all others, least practicable in a state of blindness, because it depends upon perpetual and minute inspection and collation;' and that, 'to compile a history from various authors, when they can only be consulted by other eyes, is * Ph, ap. Godw. p. 380. Id. ibid. p. 374. not easy, nor possible, but with more skilful and attentive help than can be commonly obtained.' Milton, however, was not without examples. We should suppose, that a lawyer, above all men, ought to have eyes; yet the house of Caius Drusus was always filled with clients; who, says Cicero, when they could not see their own way in their affairs, were willing to avail themselves of a blind guide. Cnius Aufidius discharged the office of prætor, delivered speeches in the senate, and wrote a Grecian history, after he had lost his sight. Videbat in litteris,' says Cicero. Blind Diodatus, the stoic, resided many years at Cicero's house; and, what is scarcely credible, not only devoted himself to philosophy with more eagerness than ever, played upon the Pythagorian fiddle, and read books day and night,-but, what seems to be absolutely impracticable without eyes, superintended a school of geometry, and would direct his pupils, by words, whence, whither, and how to draw their lines.* But, whatever might have been Milton's difficulties in compiling a dictionary or a history, it cannot be pretended, that the loss of sight was a serious impediment to the composition of an epic poem. Homer, we are told, was blind. But, when we say this, to use once more the language of Cicero, we look at his picture, and not at his poetry. What region, asks the delighted philosopher, what coast, what corner of Greece, what species of form, what battle, what parade, what contest of oars, what motion of man or of beast, has he not so painted, that, though he may not have seen it himself, he forces his readers to see it? When Milton commenced Paradise Lost,-how he first conceived the idea, and what was the original celebrity of the poem,are three questions, which his biographers still strive to illustrate, and continue to discuss. Tusc. Quæst. 1. v. § 38, et seq. † Id. ibid. There is some reason to doubt the saying of Dr. Johnson, that he was long choosing, and began late.' Even in a college exercise, written in his 19th year, he expresses his hopes of soaring to the 'door of heaven,' and 'looking in' to see the blissful deities; and it is worth the curious reader's attention,' says Mr. Thyer, one of his commentators, 'to observe how much Paradise Lost corresponds with this prophetic wish.' Again, Milton tells Diodati, who had asked him what he was about at his father's, Tegova, et volitare meditor.' In his first religious treatise, of Reformation, he says, 'some one may, perhaps, be heard singing hymns and hallelujas in new and lofty measures;' nor does he forget to inform the public, in 1642, that, ever since he could conceive himself any thing worth to his country, the intention had lived within him, to celebrate in glorious and lofty hymns the throne and equipage of God's almightiness, and what he works, and what he suffers to be wrought, with high providence in his church; to sing-whatsoever in religion is holy and sublime, in virtue amiable or grave, whatsoever hath passion or admiration of that, which is Yet I had rather, if I were to choose, Thy service in some graver subject use; Such, where the deep transported mind may soar How he before the thundrous throne doth lie. Milton once had a design, it is well known to make prince Ar thur the subject of an epic poem. Mr. Warton thinks, that the advice of Manso, the friend of Tasso, first put him upon this de sign; and Mr. Hayley adds, that the conjecture is not a little strengthened by the fact, that, in Tasso's discourses on epic poetry, Arthur is often recommended as a good hero for a poem. Hayl. p. 254. It was in the ode to Manso, that this design first showed itself; and the above vacation exercise is a proof, that he had long before conceived a different idea. called fortune from without, or the wily subtilties and refluxes of man's thoughts from within; all these things with a solid and tractable smoothness to point out and describe, teaching over the whole book of sanctity and virtue, through all the instances of example, with such delight, to those especially of soft and delicious temper, who will not so much as look upon truth herself, unless they see her elegantly drest; that whereas the pathes of honesty and good life appear now rugged and difficult, though they be indeed easy and pleasant, they will then appear to all men both easy and pleasant, though they were rugged and difficult indeed."* He then proceeds to say, that this thing can only be done by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases.' Here we have nearly the argument and invocation of Paradise Lost; and perhaps it is not unworthy of notice, too, that, in speaking of the difficulties, which attend such an undertaking, he uses almost the same language in this prose treatise, and in the poem. He says, in the former, that he shall give no certain account of what the mind at home, in the spacious circuits of her musing, hath liberty to propose to herself, though of highest hope and hardest attempting;' and he opens the third book of Paradise Lost, with telling us, that he had been taught by the heavenly muse to venture' upon the flight of the foregoing books, though hard and rare.' So, he talks, in the treatise, of being fed with cheerful and confident thoughts;' and, again, in the introduction to the third book of the poem, he 'feeds on thoughts, which move harmonious numbers.' But he has almost told us himself, in so many words, that he began his great epic Reas. of Church Gov. Introd. B. II. + Id ibid. |