who had committed the same kind of crime, escaped with incapacitation; and, as exclusion from public trust is a punishment which the power of Government can commonly inflict without the help of a particular law, it required no 5 great interest to exempt Milton from a censure little more than verbal. Something may be reasonably ascribed to veneration and compassion; to veneration of his abilities, and compassion for his distresses, which made it fit to forgive his malice for his learning. He was now poor and blind; Io and who would pursue with violence an illustrious enemy, depressed by fortune and disarmed by nature?

The publication of the 'Act of Oblivion' put him in the same condition with his fellow-subjects. He was, however, upon some pretence now not known, in the custody of the 15 serjeant in December; and when he was released, upon his refusal of the fees demanded, he and the serjeant were called before the house. He was now safe within the shade of oblivion, and knew himself to be as much out of the power of a griping officer as any other man. How the 20 question was determined is not known. Milton would hardly have contended but that he knew himself to have right on his side.

He then removed to Jewin Street, near Aldersgate Street; and, being blind and by no means wealthy, wanted a do25 mestic companion and attendant; and therefore, by the recommendation of Dr. Paget, married Elizabeth Minshull, of a gentleman's family in Cheshire, probably without a fortune. All his wives were virgins; for he has declared that he thought it gross and indelicate to be a second 30 husband: upon what other principles his choice was made cannot now be known; but marriage afforded not much of his happiness. The first wife left him in disgust, and was brought back only by terror; the second, indeed,

seems to have been more a favourite, but her life was short. The third, as Phillips relates, oppressed his children in his lifetime and cheated them at his death.

Soon after his marriage, according to an obscure story, he was offered the continuance of his employment, and, s being pressed by his wife to accept it, answered, 'You, like other women, want to ride in your coach; my wish is to live and die an honest man.' If he considered the Latin secretary as exercising any of the powers of government, he that had shared authority, either with the Par- 10 liament or Cromwell, might have forborne to talk very loudly of his honesty; and if he thought the office purely ministerial, he certainly might have honestly retained it under the King. But this tale has too little evidence to deserve a disquisition; large offers and sturdy rejections 15 are among the most common topics of falsehood.

He had so much either of prudence or gratitude, that he forbore to disturb the new settlement with any of his political or ecclesiastical opinions, and from this time devoted himself to poetry and literature. Of his zeal for 20 learning in all its parts, he gave a proof by publishing, the next year (1661), Accidence commenced Grammar'; a little book which has nothing remarkable, but that its author, who had been lately defending the supreme powers of his country, and was then writing 'Paradise Lost,' could de- 25 scend from his elevation to rescue children from the perplexity of grammatical confusion, and the trouble of lessons unnecessarily repeated.

About this time, Ellwood the Quaker, being recommended to him as one who would read Latin to him for the ad- 30 vantage of his conversation, attended him every afternoon except on Sundays. Milton, who, in his letter to Hartlib, had declared, that 'to read Latin with an English mouth is

as ill a hearing as Law French,' required that Ellwood should learn and practise the Italian pronunciation, which, he said, was necessary, if he would talk with foreigners. This seems to have been a task troublesome without use. There is 5 little reason for preferring the Italian pronunciation to our own, except that it is more general; and to teach it to an Englishman is only to make him a foreigner at home. He who travels, if he speaks Latin, may so soon learn the sounds which every native gives it, that he need make no 10 provision before his journey; and if strangers visit us, it is their business to practise such conformity to our modes as they expect from us in their own countries. Ellwood complied with the directions, and improved himself by his attendance; for he relates, that Milton, having a curious 15 ear, knew by his voice when he read what he did not understand, and would stop him, and open the most difficult passages.'

In a short time he took, a house in the Artillery Walk, leading to Bunhill Fields; the mention of which concludes 20 the register of Milton's removals and habitations. He lived longer in this place than any other.

He was now busied by 'Paradise Lost.' Whence he drew the original design has been variously conjectured by men who cannot bear to think themselves ignorant of that 25 which, at last, neither diligence nor sagacity can discover. Some find the hint in an Italian tragedy. Voltaire tells a wild and unauthorised story of a farce seen by Milton in Italy which opened thus: Let the Rainbow be the Fiddlestick of the Fiddle of Heaven.' It has been already shown, 30 that the first conception was a tragedy or mystery, not of a narrative, but a dramatic work which he is supposed to have begun to reduce to its present form about the time (1655) when he finished his dispute with the defenders of the king.

He long had promised to adorn his native country by some great performance, while he had yet perhaps no settled design, and was stimulated only by such expectations as naturally arose from the survey of his attainments, and the consciousness of his powers. What he should undertake it 5 was difficult to determine. He was long choosing, and

began late.'

While he was obliged to divide his time between his private studies and affairs of state, his poetical labour must have been often interrupted; and perhaps he did little more in that busy 10 time than construct the narrative, adjust the episodes, proportion the parts, accumulate images and sentiments, and treasure in his memory, or preserve in writing, such hints as books or meditation would supply. Nothing particular is known of his intellectual operations while he was a states- 15 man; for, having every help and accommodation at hand, he had no need of uncommon expedients.

Being driven from all public stations, he is yet too great not to be traced by curiosity to his retirement; where he has been found by Mr. Richardson, the fondest of his admirers, 20 sitting before his door in a grey coat of coarse cloth, in warm sultry weather, to enjoy the fresh air; and so, as in his own room, receiving the visits of people of distinguished parts as well as quality. His visitors of high quality must now be imagined to be few; but men of parts might reasonably 25 court the conversation of a man so generally illustrious, that foreigners are reported, by Wood, to have visited the house in Bread Street where he was born.

According to another account, he was seen in a small house, neatly enough dressed in black clothes, sitting in a 30 room hung with rusty green; pale but not cadaverous, with chalkstones in his hands. He said that, if it were not for the gout, his blindness would be tolerable.

In the intervals of his pain, being made unable to use the common exercises, he used to swing in a chair, and sometimes played upon an organ.

He was now confessedly and visibly employed upon his 5 poem, of which the progress might be noted by those with whom he was familiar; for he was obliged, when he had composed as many lines as his memory would conveniently retain, to employ some friends in writing them, having, at least, for part of the time, no regular attendant. This gave

10 opportunity to observations and reports.

Mr. Phillips observes, that there was a very remarkable circumstance in the composure of Paradise Lost,' 'which I have a particular reason,' says he, 'to remember; for whereas I had the perusal of it from the very beginning, for some 15 years, as I went from time to time to visit him, in parcels of ten, twenty, or thirty verses at a time (which, being written by whatever hand came next, might possibly want correction as to the orthography and pointing), having, as the summer came on, not been showed any for a considerable while, 20 and desiring the reason thereof, was answered, that his vein never happily flowed but from the autumnal equinox to the vernal; and that whatever he attempted at other times was never to his satisfaction, though he courted his fancy never so much; so that, in all the years he was about this poem, 25 he may be said to have spent half his time therein.'

Upon this relation Toland remarks, that in his opinion Phillips has mistaken the time of the year; for Milton, in his Elegies, declares, that with the advance of the spring he feels the increase of his poetical force, redeunt in carmina vires. 30 To this it is answered, that Phillips could hardly mistake time

so well marked; and it may be added, that Milton might find different times of the year favourable to different parts of life. Mr. Richardson conceives it impossible that such a