for any publick truft; but of Milton there was no exception. Of this tenderness fhewn to Milton, the curiofity of mankind has not forborn to enquire the reafon. Burnet thinks he was forgotten; but this is another instance which may confirm Dalrymple's obfervation, who fays, "that whenever Burnet's narrations are examined, he appears to be mistaken." Forgotten he was not; for his profecution was ordered; it must be therefore by defign that he was included in the general oblivion. He is faid to have had friends in the houfe, fuch 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 Richardfon 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 prifoner, and condemned to die; but was fpared at the request of Milton. When the turn of fuccefs brought Milton into the like danger, Davenant repaid the benefit by appearing in his favour. Here is a reciprocation of generofity and gratitude fo pleafing, 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 efcape 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 feems not certain that Milton's life ever was in danger. Goodwin, who had committed the fame kind of crime, efcaped with incapacitation; and as exclufion from 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 cenfure little more than verbal. Something may be reafonably afcribed to veneration and compaffion; to veneration of his abilities, and compaffion for his diftreffes, which made it fit to forgive his malice for his learning. He was now poor and blind; and who would purfue with violence an illuftrious enemy, depreffed by fortune, and difarmed by nature? The publication of the act of oblivion put him in the fame condition with his fellow-fubjects. He was, however, upon fome pretence now not known, in the cuftody of the ferjeant in December; and, when he was released, upon his refufal of the fees demanded, he and the ferjeant were called before the House. He was now fafe within the shade of oblivion, and knew himfelf 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 fide. He then removed to Jewin-ftreet, near Alderfgateftreet; and being blind, and by no means wealthy, wanted a domeftick companion and attendant; and therefore, by the recommendation of Dr. Paget, married Elizabeth Minfhul, of a gentleman's family in Cheshire, probably without a fortune. All his wives were virgins; for he has declared that he thought it grofs and indelicate to be a fecond 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 fecond, indeed, feems to have been more a favourite, but her life was fhort. The third, as Philips relates, oppreffed his children in his life-time, and cheated them at his death. Soon after his marriage, according to an obfcure ftory, he was offered the continuance of his employment; and being preffed by his wife to accept it, anfwered, "You, like other women, want to ride in your coach; my wifh is to live and die an honest "man.". If he confidered the Latin fecretary as exercifing any of the powers of government, he that had shared authority, either with the parliament or Cromwell, might have forborn to talk very loudly of his honesty; and if he thought the office purely ministerial, he certainly might have honeftly 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 topicks of falfehood. He had fo much either of prudence or gratitude, that he forbore to difturb the new fettlement with any of his political or ecclefiaftical 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 fupreme powers of his country, and was then writing Paradife Loft, could defcend from his elevation to rescue children from the perplexity of grammatical confufion, and the trouble of leflons unneceffarily repeated. About About this time Elwood the quaker, being recom mended to him as one who would read Latin to him, for the advantage of his converfation, 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 bearing as Law French, required that Elwood should learn and practise the Italian pronunciation, which, he faid, was necef fary, if he would talk with foreigners. This feems to have been a task troublesome without ufe. 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 fo foon learn the founds which every native gives it, that he need make no provifion before his journey; and if ftrangers vifit 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 car, knew by his voice when he read what he did not understand, and would ftop him, and open the most difficult paffages. * This fingular perfon was a neighbour of Milton's father in the country, and alfo of Waller, and had the confidence of the latter, as appears by the life of that poet prefixed to fome editions of his works. He was an ingenious man, and a scholar, and wrote a life of himself, published in 8vo, 1714. In it are related his fudden converfion to quakerifm, the refentment of his father for his refufing to be uncovered before him, his fufferings for the truth by impris fonment, and other feverities, his deliverance from all his troubles, and lastly his marriage to an amiable young woman of his own profeffion, one of the Penn family, whom he had courted both in profe and verfe, with all that fimplicity of ftyle and fincerity of expreffion which then distinguished that inoffenfive people. In a fhort time he took a houfe 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 in any other. He was now bufied by Paradife Loft. Whence he drew the original defign has been variously conjectured by men who cannot bear to think themselves ignorant of that which, at last, neither diligence nor fagacity can discover. Some find the hint in an Italian tragedy. Voltaire tells a wild and unauthorised story of a farce feen by Milton in Italy, which opened thus: Let the Rainbow be the Fiddlestick of the Fiddle of Heaven. It has been already fhewn, that the first conception was a tragedy or myftery, not of a narrative, but a dramatick work, which he is fuppofed to have begun to reduce to its prefent form about the time (1655) when he finished his difpute with the defenders of the king. He long had promised to adorn his native country by fome great performance, while he had yet perhaps no fettled defign, and was ftimulated only by fuch expectations as naturally arofe from the furvey of his attainments, and the consciousness of his powers. What he fhould undertake, it was difficult to determine. He was long chufing, and began late. While he was obliged to divide his time between his private studies and affairs of ftate, his poetical labour must have been often interrupted; and perhaps he did little more in that bufy time than conftruct the narrative, adjust the episodes, proportion the parts, accumulate images and fentiments, and treasure in his memory, or preferve in writing, fuch hints as books or meditation would fupply. Nothing particular is known of his intellectual operations while he was a statesman; for, |