bidding me take it home with me and read it at my leisure, and when I had done so, return it to him with my judgment thereupon. When I came home, and set myself to read it, I found that it was that excellent poem which he entitled Paradise Lost." This anecdote seems to determine the time of the poem's completion, although his biographers disagree respecting the exact period of its commencement. Aubrey says that he began it about "two years before the king came in;" Philips, on the contrary, assigns its beginning to the close of 1655, and Richardson prefers a date yet earlier. These discordant opinions we cannot hope to reconcile. the mighty task was begun in blindness, and pursued under all the miseries of that melancholy bereavement, if not "with dangers compassed round," yet in darkness and solitude. But during this long night of suffering, the Enchanter was at work, hewing from "the diamond quarries" and the "rocks of gold*," until at length the cloud of mystery melted away, and the majestic structure rose in its resplendent stateliness before the wondering eyes of men. We know that The plague having terminated its ravages, Milton returned to London, and communicated a very interesting ́account of his escape to his friend Peter Heimbach, a learned German, who, from an expression in one of the poet's letters, is supposed to have resided in his house when he visited England †. 66 If among so many funerals of my countrymen in a year so full of pestilence and sorrow, you were induced, as you say, by rumour, to believe that I also was snatched away, it is not surprising; and if such a rumour prevailed among those of your nation, as it seems to have done, * Paradise Lost, B. v. 755. + Todd. because they were solicitous for my health, it is not unpleasing, for I must esteem it as a proof of their benevolence towards me. But by the graciousness of God, who had prepared for me a safe retreat in the country, I am still alive and well; and I trust not utterly an unprofitable servant, whatever duty in life there yet remains for me to fulfil. That you remember me after so long an interval in our correspondence, gratifies me exceedingly, though, by the politeness of your expression, you seem to afford me room to suspect that you have forgotten me, since, as you say, you admire in me so many different virtues collected together. From so many weddings I should assuredly dread a family too numerous, were it not certain, that in narrow circumstances, and under severity of fortune, virtues are most excellently reared, and are most flourishing. Yet one of these said virtues has not very handsomely rewarded me for entertaining her; for that which you call my political virtue, and which I should rather wish you to call my devotion to my country (enchanting me with her captivating name), almost, if I may say so, expatriated me. Other virtues, however, join their voices to assure me, that wherever we prosper in rectitude, there is our country. In ending my letter, let me obtain from you this favour, that if you find any parts of it incorrectly written, and without stops, you will impute it to the boy who writes for me, who is utterly ignorant of Latin, and to whom I am forced, wretchedly enough, to repeat every single syllable that I dictate.” When Paradise Lost was ready for publication, some difficulty arose in procuring a license; several passages were objected to, and particularly the simile of the sun eclipsed, in the first book, which was thought to contain a political allusion. The license, however, was finally granted, and Milton disposed of the copyright, April 27, 1667, to Samuel Symmons, in consideration of an immediate payment of five pounds, and five more when thirteen hundred copies of the first edition should be sold; a like sum after a sale of an equal number of the second edition, and again of the third. The most trifling circumstance connected with the history of this immortal poem possesses some interest; and it may be mentioned that it appeared in 1667, in a small quarto form, neatly bound, at the price of three shillings. A full and accurate account of the various editions has been given by Mr. Todd. After several variations in the title, a plan adopted to promote the circulation, Milton in two years became entitled to the second payment, for which he signed a receipt April 26, 1669. The sale of so large an impression, it has been remarked by Johnson, was an uncommon example of the prevalence of genius. The very nature of the work, independent of the political reputation of the author, presented an almost insurmountable obstacle to its popularity. It was the season of gay and elegant persiflage. To be solemn, or thoughtful, was to be dull; and Anacreon was a greater poet than Homer. Milton's admirers, therefore, were to be sought among the high-minded few who are always to be found in every country and under every government. Barrow, a learned physician, and Marvell, himself a poet, prefixed verses of no common merit to the second edition, and a greater far, even Dryden, pronounced it one of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems, which any age or nation had produced. This enthusiastic tribute was not bestowed until after Milton's death, but that circumstance only testifies more clearly the sincerity of the eulogist. progress to fame was slow but certain, and when the folio Its edition appeared, in 1688, under the patronage of Lord Somers, the most eminent individuals of the time were among the five hundred subscribers. It had been already translated into the Latin and Dutch languages, a very remarkable testimony to the diffusion of its fame. Its reputation crept quietly along, like a subterraneous current, rarely heard in the tumult of ephemeral rivalry, but growing wider and deeper every hour, until at length it swept into light, a broad, rapid, and glittering river. The composition of Paradise Lost forms an epoch in literary history. We have seen it commenced in blindness, pursued under many and various difficulties, and completed in solitude and in poverty. The enthusiasm which distinguishes every true poet, assumes in the Christian bard that higher character of zeal which Milton, in one of his prose works, compares to a warrior of æthereal substance, armed in complete diamond, and driving the flaming wheels of his chariot over the scarlet pride of principalities and powers,-a noble metaphor, and finely illustrative of the energy of deep mental devotion, triumphing over every obstacle, breaking down every barrier from the goal, braving every peril, enduring every privation. Enthusiasm like this, supports itself, teaching the soul to satisfy its hunger, as it were, out of its own veins, during the pilgrimage along the desert. Such was the zeal of Columbus and of Milton; both endowed with rare faculties, both possessing rich imaginations, both cheered by the inward light of their lofty anticipations. The Wanderer of the Sea was soothed by visions of that gorgeous land which destiny appeared to withhold from his search; streets of gold, and valleys radiant with fruits of paradise, flashed upon his slumbering and waking eyes; while the poet escaped from the narrow boundaries of his garden-house, to roam through the cedar glens of Eden, or build up the emerald columns of the Celestial City. It was this flame that illuminated the dungeon of Tasso. It shines, indeed, into every cell. Imprisonment could not deprive Boëthius of the Consolations of Philosophy, nor Raleigh of his eloquence, nor Davenant of his grace, nor Chaucer of his mirth, nor five years' slavery at Algiers deaden the wit of Cervantes. Much of this severe perseverance, and solemn hardihood of character, Milton owed to his connexion with the Puritans, whose history is full of interest. Johnson thought their want of learning atoned for by their skill in the Scriptures, and by the holiness of their lives. Popular opinion has its flux and reflux always in a corresponding ratio. So it was at the Restoration:-to those who gazed from amidst the brilliancy and intoxication of a national carnival upon the austere simplicity of declining Puritanism, it presented a strange and ludicrous appearance. The change of government was accompanied by a revolution in literature. The enthusiastic zeal and inflaming devotion which breathed through the poetry and prose of that period, were replaced by the festive songs of Sedley, the sparkling dialogue of Wycherley, and the abandoned irony of Rochester. Genius lent its aid to the crusade against the Puritans, and Butler delighted the world with the adventures of Hudibras. The lyre was carried from the Temple to the Theatre, and the popular feelings were hurried along the thousand streams of gaiety and pleasure. To Puritanism we are probably indebted for Paradise Lost. The early studies of Milton had led him to the haunts of Italian song, and the lays of the "famous renowners" of Beatrice and Laura; then, too, he betook himself, as he has told us, to the solemn cantos of chivalrous romance, and hoped to immortalize |