because he had been 'depressed by fortune and disarmed by nature. Others were equally depressed by fortune, who yet were not spared; and, so far as Milton was terrible at all, the loss of sight had, by no means, deprived him of his arms. Almost all his invectives against kings and kingship were written after he became blind; and he still possessed the same disposition and strength of mind, with the same keenness and volubility of language. We have two stories about the mode, in which he is said to have eluded punishment. According to one account, he pretended to be dead, and had a funeral procession; and 'the king, we are told, 'applauded his policy, in escaping the punishment of death by a seasonable show of dying.'* We know not how to contradict, nor why we should believe, this tale. Again, during the war between the king and parliament, Davenant was taken prisoner, and condemned to death: Milton's intercession is said to have preserved his life; and, when fortune had brought Milton into similar danger, Davenant, it is added, was glad to repay the benefit. H 'Here,' says Dr. Johnson, n, 'is a reciprocation of generosity and gratitude so pleasing, that the tale makes its own way to credit. But, if help were wanted, I know not where to find it.' It was his creed, that 'seldom any splendid story is wholly true;'† and, accordingly, though, a little before, we were told that 'Milton saw himself and his cause in equal danger,' 'it seems not certain,' now, that his life was ever in danger.' The story here repeated was first delivered by Richardson; who received it from Pope, as he had it from Betterton, the player. The 'narration,' says Dr. Johnson, 'can be traced no higher;' and we are left to conclude, therefore, that it is altogether unworthy of credit. But it is almost impos * Cunningham's Hist. G. B. vol. i. p. 14. Wart. 2d edit. Smaller Poems, p. 358. + Life of Dorset. sible, in the nature of things, that the story should be traced any higher. Betterton was set up and patronised by Davenant; was, of course, in habits of intimacy with him; and, unless we are ready to pronounce him a liar, must have derived his account from Davenant himself.* That Milton's life was at first in danger, we have the clearest evidence. The attorney general was ordered to indict him; and the king, in his proclamation, says, that no endeavours used for his apprehension can take effect, whereby he might be brought to legal tryal, and deservedly receive condign punishment for his treasons and offences.'t This proclamation was dated August 13, 1660. Milton was in the hands of the sergeant at arms in December of the same year. But three months had cooled the resentment of his enemies: the act of indemnity had been past; and, on Saturday, Decem. 15, it was ordered, by the house of commons, 'that Mr. Milton, now in custody of the sergeant at arms, be forthwith released, paying his fees. He had powerful friends in the house; particularly Sir Thomas Clarges, Secretary Morice, and Mr. Andrew Marvel. But he struggled to the last: he refused to pay the sergeant's fees; and, both being called before the house, the question was referred to the committee of privileges and elections.|| How it was determined, we know not. This is the time for Milton's worshippers to ejaculate their lamentations over his fallen and undone condition; more especially as the time draws near, when the wretchedness of his circumstances will so aptly enhance the glory of his great poetical achievment. Mr. Godwin is chief mourner; and he whines after the following manner: 'Blind-robbed, I suppose, of the principal part of his property-hunted * Newt. Life of Milt. Ibid. p. 115, note. Todd, vol. i. p. 97. †Ap. Tol. p. 113, note. Godw. p. 126. Ph. ap. ibid. p. 378. out of society-sheltered, according to one account, by the device of a mock-funeral-hidden in a nameless corner from the pursuers of the law-hearing from day to day of the legal insults and murders committed on his dearest friends-surrounded on all sides by the shouts, the acclamations, and the drunken riots of the frantic royalists-apprehended, and at length with difficulty permitted to escape with liberty and life.'* That he was blind, we do not dispute: that he was robbed of his property, Mr. Godwin gratuitously 'supposes:' that he was hunted out of society, is not true: that he was sheltered by the device of a mock-funeral, is only believed for the sake of a climax: that he was hidden in a nameless corner, is a mistatement; for it was Bartholomew Close: that he heard on all sides, and from day to day, such terrific news, is merely a romance; and that he was apprehended, and with difficulty escaped with liberty and life, is only half true; for he voluntarily came forth from his hiding place, under the act of oblivion; and, though for a time in the custody of the sergeant at arms, we hear of no opposition to his final release. Milton's situation was not half so deplorable as that of many others; and, indeed, this very Mr. Godwin has, in another place, expressed his 'astonishment' at the lenity of his victorious enemies. He was blind, it is true; and, as this was the only particular which distinguished his case from that of his associates, it is exaggerated into a calamity equal to all the rest put together. If Milton had followed a trade, in which his eyes were peculiarly necessary, if, for instance, he was to handle the pencil or the graver, the loss of sight would have been an inconsolable misfortune: but, as his business was chiefly confined to reflection and composition, he had little use for any other eyes than those of the mind. It is a little singular, that, while his biographers make so many moans for him, he never utters one for himself; and that, when writing an especial ode upon his own blindness, he feels so little inclined to be sorrowful, that he falls, like Antipater, to making puns. For our own parts, we are willing to take his own words for his feelings; we will not believe a man wretched when he tells us he is happy. 'Me sortis meæ,' says he to one who taunted him with blindness and imbecility, 'neque piget, neque poenitet. Amici officiosius nunc etiam quam solebant, colunt, observant, adsunt. Neque ego cæcis, afflictis, mocrentibus, imbicillis, tametsi vos id miserum ducetis, aggregari me discrucior. Est quoddam per imbecilitatem, præcunto Apostolo, ad maximas vires iter: sim ego debilissimus, dummodo in mea imbicilitate immortalis elle et milior vigor eò se efficacius exerat; dummodo in meis tenebris divini vultus lemen eó clarius elucet; tum enim infirmissimus ero simul et validissimus, cæcus eodem tempore et perspicacissimus.'* We will add a passage from Cicero. Democritus,' says he, 'luminibus amissis, alba scilicet, et atra discernere non poterat: at vero bona, mala; æqua, iniqua; honesta, turpia; utilia, inutilia; magna, parva poterat: et sine varietate colorum licebat vivere beate; sine notione rerum non licebat. Atque hic vir,' he adds, what we think equally applicable to Milton, 'impediri etiam animi aciem adspectu occulorum arbitrabitur.'† * Godw. Phh. p. 127. But Mr. Godwin has not made Milton wretched enough from his public misfortunes. He must complete the picture by showing a conspiracy among his own children to disturb his quiet, and destroy his happiness. The two eldest daughters, we are told, upon the authority of a nuncupative will, and the annexed depositions, which Mr. Godwin never stops to examine, 'found their favourite relaxation * Def. Sec. Tase. Quæst. 1. v. § 39. in the society of a maid-servant, with whom they combined against their father, and advised her to cheat him with a false account of the marketings. They made away, it is added, with some of his books, and would have sold the rest to the dunghill women.'* So cruelly and so incessantly, indeed, is he said to have been annoyed and preyed upon, that he was obliged to marry a third wife, merely to protect himself from the insults and rapacity of his daughters. And their conduct is represented as peculiarly ungrateful, because, as it is said, in the same documents, Milton expended the 'greatest part of his estate in providing for them;' gave them an excellent education; and, what seems to be thought uncommonly generous, put them out to learn the trade of needlework. That these daughters were guilty of the filial impiety thus laid to their charge, we are not yet prepared to believe. Milton's works are replete with allusions to his domestic affairs; yet we never find him complaining of abuse from any member of his family; and, as to the nuncupative will, upon which the charge is solely founded, we think a brief examination of the circumstances, under which it is said to have been made, the character of the witness, who attests its authenticity, and the nature and consistency of the facts, which they disclose,-will sufficiently show how little such a document is worthy of credit. Christopher Milton, as we have said before, was a practiser of law in the Inner Temple; and spent all his vacations at Ipswich. He deposes, that, on the 20th of July, 1674, when on the eve of quitting London, he paid a visit to our poet; who, he says, addressed to him the following words, in a serious manner, as if he intended them for his last will: 'Brother, the portion due to me from Mr. Powell, my former wife's father, I leave to the unkind children I had by her: but I have received no part of * Godw. Phh. p. 129. + Id. ibid. Godw. p. 127-8. |