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$Title{Dr. Samuel Johnson On Milton
Part II}
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$Author{Johnson, Dr. Samuel}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{milton
himself
now
chorus
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paradise
having
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adam
see
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see
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}
$Date{1889}
$Log{See The Beast*0002901.scf
See Paradise Lost*0002902.scf
}
Title:       Dr. Samuel Johnson On Milton
Author:      Johnson, Dr. Samuel
Date:        1889

Part II

     About the time that the army was new-modelled (1645), he removed to a
smaller house in Holborn, which opened backward into Lincoln's Inn Fields.  He
is not known to have published any thing afterwards till the king's death,
when, finding his murderers condemned by the Presbyterians, he wrote a
treatise to justify it, and to compose the minds of the people.

     He made some "Remarks on the Articles of Peace between Ormond and the
Irish Rebels." While he contented himself to write, he perhaps did only what
his conscience dictated; and if he did not very vigilantly watch the influence
of his own passions, and the gradual prevalence of opinions, first willingly
admitted, and then habitually indulged; if objections by being overlooked were
forgotten, and desire superinduced conviction; he yet shared only the common
weakness of mankind, and might be no less sincere than his opponents.  But as
faction seldom leaves a man honest, however it might find him, Milton is
suspected of having interpolated the book called "Icon Basilike," which the
Council of State, to whom he was now made Latin secretary, employed him to
censure, by inserting a prayer taken from Sidney's "Arcadia," and imputing it
to the king; whom he charges, in his "Iconoclastes," with the use of this
prayer, as with a heavy crime, in the indecent language with which prosperity
had emboldened the advocates for rebellion to insult all that is venerable or
great: "Who would have imagined so little fear in him of the true all-seeing
Deity, as, immediately before his death, to pop into the hands of the grave
bishop that attended him, as a special relic of his saintly exercises, a
prayer stolen word for word from the mouth of a heathen woman praying to a
heathen god?"

     The papers which the king gave to Dr. Juxon on the scaffold the regicides
took away, so that they were at least the publishers of this prayer; and Dr.
Birch, who had examined the question with great care, was inclined to think
them the forgers.  The use of it by adaptation was innocent; and they who
could so noisily censure it, with a little extension of their malice, could
contrive what they wanted to accuse.

     King Charles the Second, being now sheltered in Holland, employed
Salmasius, professor of polite learning at Leyden, to write a defence of his
father and of monarchy, and, to excite his industry, gave him, as was
reported, a hundred Jacobuses.  Salmasius was a man of skill in languages,
knowledge of antiquity, and sagacity of emendatory criticism, almost exceeding
all hope of human attainment; and having, by excessive praises, been confirmed
in great confidence of himself, though he probably had not much considered the
principles of society or the rights of government, undertook the employment
without distrust of his own qualifications; and, as his expedition in writing
was wonderful, in 1649 published "Defensio Regis."

     To this Milton was required to write a sufficient answer, which he
performed (1651) in such a manner that Hobbes declared himself unable to
decide whose language was best or whose arguments were worst.  In my opinion,
Milton's periods are smoother, neater, and more pointed; but he delights
himself with teasing his adversary as much as with confuting him.  He makes a
foolish allusion of Salmasius, whose doctrine he considers as servile and
unmanly, to the stream of Salmacis, which, whoever entered, left half his
virility behind him.  Salmasius was a Frenchman, and was unhappily married to
a scold.  Tu es' Gallus, says Milton, et, ut aiunt, nimium gallinaceus.  But
his supreme pleasure is to tax his adversary, so renowned for criticisms, with
vicious Latin.  He opens his book with telling that he has used persona,
which, according to Milton, signifies only a mask, in a sense not known to the
Romans, by applying it as we apply person.  But as Nemesis is always on the
watch, it is memorable that he has enforced the charge of a solecism by an
expression in itself grossly solecistical, when for one of those supposed
blunders he says, as Ker, and I think some one before him, has remarked,
propino te grammatistis tuis vapulandum.  From vapulo, which has a passive
sense, vapulandus can never be derived.  No man forgets his original trade;
the rights of nations and of kings sink into questions of grammar if
grammarians discuss them.

     Milton, when he undertook this answer, was weak of body and dim of sight;
but his will was forward, and what was wanting of health was supplied by zeal.
He was rewarded with a thousand pounds, and his book was much read; for
paradox, recommended by spirit and elegance, easily gains attention; and he,
who told every man that he was equal to his king, could hardly want an
audience.

     That the performance of Salmasius was not dispersed with equal rapidity,
or read with equal eagerness, is very credible.  He taught only the stale
doctrine of authority and the unpleasing duty of submission, and he had been
so long not only the monarch but the tyrant of literature, that almost all
mankind were delighted to find him defied and insulted by a new name not yet
considered as any one's rival.  If Christina, as is said, commended the
"Defence of the People," her purpose must be to torment Salmasius, who was
then at her court; for neither her civil station nor her natural character
could dispose her to favor the doctrine, who was by birth a queen, and by
temper despotic.

     That Salmasius was, from the appearance of Milton's book, treated with
neglect, there is not much proof; but to a man so long accustomed to
admiration, a little praise of his antagonist would be sufficiently offensive,
and might incline him to leave Sweden, from which, however, he was dismissed,
not with any mark of contempt, but with a train of attendants scarcely less
than regal.

     He prepared a reply, which, left as it was imperfect, was published by
his son in the year of the Restoration.  In the beginning, being probably most
in pain for his Latinity, he endeavors to defend his use of the word persona;
but, if I remember right, he misses a better authority than any that he has
found, that of Juvenal in his Fourth Satire:

          "- Quid agas, cum dira et foedior omni
     Crimine persona est?"

     As Salmasius reproached Milton with losing his eyes in the quarrel,
Milton delighted himself with the belief that he had shortened Salmasius's
life, and both perhaps with more malignity than reason.  Salmasius died at the
Spa, September 3, 1653; and, as controvertists are commonly said to be killed
by their last dispute, Milton was flattered with the credit of destroying him.

     Cromwell had now dismissed the parliament by the authority of which he
had destroyed monarchy, and commenced monarch himself, under the title of
Protector, but with kingly and more than kingly power.  That his authority was
lawful, never was pretended; he himself founded his right only in necessity;
but Milton, having now tasted the honey of public employment, would not return
to hunger and philosophy; but, continuing to exercise his office under a
manifest usurpation, betrayed to his power that liberty which he had defended.
Nothing can be more just than that rebellion should end in slavery; that he
who had justified the murder of his king, for some acts which seemed to him
unlawful, should now sell his services and his flatteries to a tyrant, of whom
it was evident that he could do nothing lawful.

     He had now been blind for some years; but his vigor of intellect was such
that he was not disabled to discharge his office of Latin secretary, or
continue his controversies.  His mind was too eager to be diverted, and too
strong to be subdued.

     About this time his first wife died in childbed, having left him three
daughters.  As he probably did not much lover her, he did not long continue
the appearance of lamenting her; but after a short time married Catharine, the
daughter of one Captain Woodcock, of Hackney; a woman doubtless educated in
opinions like his own.  She died, within a year, of childbirth, or some
distemper that followed it, and her husband honored her memory with a poor
sonnet.

     The first reply to Milton's "Defensio Populi" was published in 1651,
called "Apologia pro Rege et Populo Anglicano, contra Johannis Polypragmatici
(alias Miltoni) defensionem destructivam Regis et Populi." Of this the author
was not known; but Milton, and his nephew Philips, under whose name he
published an answer so much corrected by him that it might be called his own,
imputed it to Bramhal; and, knowing him no friend to regicides, thought
themselves at liberty to treat him as if they had known what they only
suspected.

     Next year appeared "Regii Sanguinis clamor ad Coelum." Of this the author
was Peter du Moulin, who was afterwards prebendary of Canterbury; but Morus,
or More, a French minister, having the care of its publication, was treated as
the writer by Milton in his "Defensio Secunda," and overwhelmed by such
violence of invective that he began to shrink under the tempest, and gave his
persecutors the means of knowing the true author.  Du Moulin was now in great
danger; but Milton's pride operated against his malignity; and both he and his
friends were more willing that Du Moulin should escape than that he should be
convicted of mistake.

     In this second defence he shows that his eloquence is not merely
satirical; the rudeness of his invective is equalled by the grossness of his
flattery.  "Deserimur, Cromuelle, tu solus superes, ad te summa nostrarum
rerum rediit, in te solo consistit, insuperabili tuae virtuti cedimus cuncti,
nemine vel obloquente, nisi quia quales inaequalis ipse honores sibi quaerit,
aut digniori concessos invidet, aut non intelligit nihil esse in societate
hominum magis vel Deo gratum, vel rationi consentaneum, esse in civitate nihil
aequius, nihil utilius, quam potiri rerum dignissimum.  Eum te agnoscunt
omnes, Cromuelle, ea tu civis maximus et gloriosissimus,^1 dux publici
consilii, exercitum fortissimorum imperator, pater patriae gessisti.  Sic tu
spontanea bonorum omnium et animitus missa voce salutaris."

[Footnote 1: It may be doubted whether gloriosissimus be here used with
Milton's boasted purity.  Res gloriosa is an illustrious thing; but vir
gloriosus is commonly a braggart, as in miles gloriosus.]

     Caesar when he assumed the perpetual dictatorship had not more servile or
more elegant flattery.  A translation may show its servility; but its elegance
is less attainable.  Having exposed the unskilfulness or selfishness of the
former government, "We were left," says Milton, "to ourselves: the whole
national interest fell into your hands, and subsists only in your abilities.
To your virtue, overpowering and resistless, every man gives way, except some
who, without equal qualifications, aspire to equal honors, who envy the
distinctions of merit greater than their own, or who have yet to learn that in
the coalition of human society nothing is more pleasing to God, or more
agreeable to reason, than that the highest mind should have the sovereign
power.  Such, sir, are you by general confession; such are the things achieved
by you, the greatest and most glorious of our countrymen, the director of our
public councils, the leader of unconquered armies, the father of your country;
for by that title does every good man hail you with sincere and voluntary
praise."

     Next year, having defended all that wanted defence, he found leisure to
defend himself.  He undertook his own vindication against More, whom he
declares in his title to be justly called the author of the "Regii Sanguinis
Clamor." In this there is no want of vehemence or eloquence, nor does he
forget his wonted wit.  "Morus es? an Momus? an uterque idem est?" He then
remembers that Morus is Latin for a mulberry-tree, and hints at the known
transformation:

          - Poma al a ferebat
     Quae post nigra tulit Morus.

     With this piece ended his controversies; and he from this time gave
himself up to his private studies and his civil employment.

     As secretary to the Protector he is supposed to have written the
"Declaration of the Reasons for a War with Spain." His agency was considered
as of great importance; for, when a treaty with Sweden was artfully suspended,
the delay was publicly imputed to Mr. Milton's indisposition; and the Swedish
agent was provoked to express his wonder that only one man in England could
write Latin, and that man blind.

     Being now forty-seven years old, and seeing himself disencumbered from
external interruptions, he seems to have recollected his former purposes, and
to have resumed three great works which he had planned for his future
employment: an epic poem, the history of his country, and a dictionary of the
Latin tongue.

     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.  Nor would Milton probably have begun it after he had lost his
eyes; but, having had it always before him, he continued it, says Philips,
"almost to his dying day; but the papers were so discomposed and deficient
that they could not be fitted for the press." The compilers of the Latin
dictionary, printed at Cambridge, had the use of those collections in three
folios; but what was their fate afterwards is not known.

     To compile a history from various authors, when they can only be
consulted by other eyes, is not easy, nor possible, but with more skilful and
attentive help than can be commonly obtained; and it was probably the
difficulty of consulting and comparing that stopped Milton's narrative at the
Conquest - a period at which affairs were not yet very intricate nor authors
very numerous.

     For the subject of his epic poem, after much deliberation, long choosing,
and beginning late, he fixed upon "Paradise Lost;" a design so comprehensive
that it could be justified only by success.  He had once designed to celebrate
King Arthur, as he hints in his verses to Mansus; but "Arthur was reserved,"
says Fenton, "to another destiny."

     It appears by some sketches of poetical projects left in manuscript, and
to be seen in a library at Cambridge, that he had digested his thoughts on
this subject into one of those wild dramas which were anciently called
Mysteries; and Philips had seen what he terms part of a tragedy beginning
with the first ten lines of Satan's address to the sun.  These mysteries
consist of allegorical persons; such as Justice, Mercy, Faith.  Of the
tragedy or mystery of "Paradise Lost" there are two plans:
    The Persons.                  The Persons.
Michael.                     Moses.
Chorus of Angels.            Divine Justice, Wisdom.
Heavenly Love.               Heavenly Love.
Lucifer.                     The Evening Star, Hesperus.
Adam,)                       Chorus of Angels.
Eve, ) with the Serpent.     Lucifer.
Conscience.                  Adam.
Death.                       Eve.
Labor.                       Conscience.
Sickness,   )                Labor,     )
Discontent, ) Mutes.         Sickness,  )
Ignorance,  )                Discontent,) Mutes.
with others,)                Ignorance, )
Faith.                       Fear,      )
Hope.                        Death.     )
Charity.                     Faith.  Hope.  Charity.

Paradise Lost.

The Persons.

     Moses, recounting how he assumed his true body; that it corrupts not,
because it is with God in the mount; declares the like with Enoch and Elijah:
besides the purity of the place, that certain pure winds, dews, and clouds
preserve it from corruption; whence exhorts to the sight of God; tells they
cannot see Adam in the state of innocence, by reason of their sin.

Justice,)
Mercy,  )  - debating what should become of man, if he fall.
Wisdom, )
Chorus of Angels singing a hymn of the Creation.

Act II.

Heavenly Love.
Evening Star.
Chorus sing the marriage song, and describe Paradise.

Act III.

Lucifer contriving Adam's ruin.
Chorus fears for Adam, and relates Lucifer's rebellion and fall

Act IV.

Adam,) fallen.
Eve, )
Conscience cites them to God's examination.
Chorus bewails, and tells the good Adam has lost.

Act V.

Adam and Eve driven out of Paradise.
- - - presented by an angel with
Labor, Grief, Hatred, Envy, War, Famine, Pestilence,)
Sickness, Discontent, Ignorance, Fear,              ) Mutes
Death,                                              )
To whom he gives their names.  Likewise Winter, Heat, Tempest, etc.
Faith,  )
Hope,   ) comfort him and instruct him.
Charity,)

     Chorus briefly concludes.

     Such was his first design, which could have produced only an allegory, or
mystery.  The following sketch seems to have attained more maturity:

Adam unparadised.

     The angel Gabriel, either descending or entering; showing, since this
globe was created, his frequency as much on earth as in heaven: describes
Paradise.  Next, the Chorus, showing the reason of his coming to keep his
watch in Paradise, after Lucifer's rebellion, by command from God; and withal
expressing his desire to see and know more concerning this excellent new
creature, man.  The angel Gabriel, as by his name signifying a prince of
power, tracing Paradise with a more free office, passes by the station of the
Chorus, and, desired by them, relates what he knew of man: as the creation of
Eve, with their love and marriage.  After this Lucifer appears; after his
overthrow, bemoans himself, seeks revenge on man.  The Chorus prepare
resistance on his first approach.  At last, after discourse of enmity on
either side, he departs: whereat the Chorus sings of the battle and victory in
heaven against him and his accomplices: as before, after the first act, was
sung a hymn of the creation.  Here again may appear Lucifer relating and
exulting in what he had done to the destruction of man.  Man next, and Eve,
having by this time been seduced by the Serpent, appears confusedly covered
with leaves.  Conscience in a shape accuses him; Justice cites him to a place
whither Jehovah called for him.  In the mean while the Chorus entertains the
stage, and is informed by some angel the manner of the fall.  Here the Chorus
bewails Adam's fall.  Adam then and Eve return; accuse one another; but
especially Adam lays the blame to his wife; is stubborn in his offence.
Justice appears, reasons with him, convinces him.  The Chorus admonisheth
Adam, and bids him beware Lucifer's example of impenitence.  The angel is sent
to banish them out of Paradise; but before causes to pass before his eyes, in
shapes, a mask of all the evils of this life and world.  He is humbled,
relents, despairs; at last appears Mercy, comforts him, promises the Messiah;
then calls in Faith, Hope, and Charity; instructs him; he repents, gives God
the glory, submits to his penalty.  The Chorus briefly concludes.  Compare
this with the former draught.

[See The Beast: A mask of all the evils of this life and world.]

     These are very imperfect rudiments of "Paradise Lost;" but it is pleasant
to see great works in their seminal state, pregnant with latent possibilities
of excellence; nor could there be any more delightful entertainment than to
trace their gradual growth and expansion, and to observe how they are
sometimes suddenly improved by accidental hints, and sometimes slowly improved
by steady meditation.

     Invention is almost the only literary labor which blindness cannot
obstruct, and therefore he naturally solaced his solitude by the indulgence of
his fancy and the melody of his numbers.  He had done what he knew to be
necessarily previous to poetical excellence; he had made himself acquainted
with seemly arts and affairs; his comprehension was extended by various
knowledge, and his memory stored with intellectual treasures.  He was skilful
in many languages, and had by reading and composition attained the full
mastery of his own.  He would have wanted little help from books, had he
retained the power of perusing them.

     But while his greater designs were advancing, having now, like many other
authors, caught the love of publication, he amused himself as he could, with
little productions.  He sent to the press (1658) a manuscript of Raleigh,
called "The Cabinet Council;" and next year gratified his malevolence to the
clergy by a "Treatise of Civil Power in Ecclesiastical Cases, and the Means of
removing Hirelings out of the Church."

     Oliver was now dead, Richard was constrained to resign; the system of
extemporary government, which had been held together only by force, naturally
fell into fragments when that force was taken away; and Milton saw himself and
his cause in equal danger.  But he had still hope of doing something.  He
wrote letters, which Toland has published, to such men as he thought friends
to the new commonwealth; and even in the year of the Restoration he bated no
jot of heart or hope, but was fantastical enough to think that the nation,
agitated as it was, might be settled by a pamphlet, called "A ready and easy
Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth," which was, however, enough considered
to be both seriously and ludicrously answered.

     The obstinate enthusiasm of the commonwealthmen was very remarkable. When
the king was apparently returning, Harrington, with a few associates as
fanatical as himself, used to meet, with all the gravity of political
importance, to settle an equal government by rotation; and Milton, kicking
when he could strike no longer, was foolish enough to publish, a few weeks
before the Restoration, Notes upon a sermon preached by one Griffiths,
entitled, "The Fear of God and the King." To these notes an answer was written
by L'Estrange, in a pamphlet petulantly called "No Blind Guides."

     But whatever Milton could write, or men of greater activity could do, the
king was now about to be restored, with the irresistible approbation of the
people.  He was therefore no longer secretary, and was consequently obliged to
quit the house, which he held by his office; and, proportioning his sense of
danger to his opinion of the importance of his writings, thought it convenient
to seek some shelter, and hid himself for a time in Bartholomew Close, by West
Smithfield.

     I cannot but remark a kind of respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to
this great man by his biographers: every house in which he resided is
historically mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place
that he honored by his presence.

     The king, with lenity of which the world has had perhaps no other
example, declined to be the judge or avenger of his own or his father's
wrongs, and promised to admit into the Act of Oblivion all, except those whom
the parliament should except; and the parliament doomed none to capital
punishment but the wretches who had immediately co-operated in the murder of
the king.  Milton was certainly not one of them; he had only justified what
they had done.

     This justification was indeed sufficiently offensive; and (June 16) an
order was issued to seize Milton's "Defence," and Goodwin's "Obstructors of
Justice," another book of the same tendency, and burn them by the common
hangman.  The attorney-general was ordered to prosecute the authors; but
Milton was not seized, nor perhaps very diligently pursued.

     Not long after (August 19) the flutter of innumerable bosoms were stilled
by an act which the king, that his mercy might want no recommendation of
elegance, rather called an Act of Oblivion than of Grace.  Goodwin was named,
with nineteen more, as incapacitated for any public trust; but of Milton there
was no exception.

     Of this tenderness shown to Milton, the curiosity of mankind has not
forborne to inquire the reason.  Burnet thinks he was forgotten; but this is
another instance which may confirm Dalrymple's observation, who says, that
"whenever Burnet's narrations are examined, he appears to be mistaken."

     Forgotten he was not, for his prosecution was ordered; it must be
therefore by design that he was included in the general oblivion.  He is said
to have had friends in the House, such as Marvel, Morrice, and Sir Thomas
Clarges; and undoubtedly a man like him must have had influence.  A very
particular story of his escape is told by Richardson in his Memoirs, which he
received from Pope, as delivered by Betterton, who might have heard it from
Davenant.  In the war between the King and parliament, Davenant was made
prisoner, and condemned to die; but was spared at the request of Milton.  When
the turn of success brought Milton into the like danger, Davenant repaid the
benefit by appearing in his favor.  Here 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.  The danger of Davenant is certain
from his own relation; but of his escape there is no account.  Betterton's
narration can be traced no higher, it is not known that he had it from
Davenant.  We are told that the benefit exchanged was life for life; but it
seems not certain that Milton's life ever was in danger.  Goodwin, 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 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; 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 sergeant in December; and when he was released, upon his
refusal of the fees demanded, he and the sergeant 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
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 domestic companion and attendant; and
therefore, by the recommendation of Dr. Paget, married Elizabeth Minshul, 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 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 favorite, but her life was short.  The third, as
Philips 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 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 parliament 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 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
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 descend from his
elevation to rescue children from the perplexity of grammatical confusion, and
the trouble of lessons unnecessarily repeated.

     About this time Elwood, the Quaker, being recommended to him as one who
would read Latin to him for the advantage 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 Elwood 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
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 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.  Elwood
complied with the directions, and improved himself by his attendance; for he
relates that Milton, having a curious 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 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 which, at last, neither diligence nor sagacity can discover.
Some find the hint in an Italian tragedy.  Voltaire tells a wild and
unauthorized story of a farce seen by Milton in Italy, which opened thus: Let
the rainbow be the fiddle-stick of the fiddle of Heaven.  It has been already
shown 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.

[See Paradise Lost: He was now busied by "Paradise Lost"]

     He long before 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
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 labor must have been often interrupted; and
perhaps he did little more in that busy 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 statesman; for having every help and accommodation
at hand, he had no need of uncommon expedients.