that disgraceful bartering of the public interests, which has branded his immediate successors with so just an infamy? No,-but the loss of his eye-sight; a loss which, to a being of his love of the beautiful as well as the sublime in nature, may be more easily felt than described; but which, however deeply he lamented in its consequences, he gloried in from its cause, and has made the subject of those noble lines which ought to be familiar as household words in the mouth and heart of every Briton:

Cyriac, this three-years'-day, these eyes, though clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs, doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied

In Liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side;

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask,
Content though blind, had I no better guide.

Well has it been said by an excellent living poet, William Howitt,*

"Most bitter payment found he in his day

"In his ungrateful country's taunts and jeers,
"And ours is ;—are we framed of nobler clay ?
"Love and deep reverence, ecstasies and tears."

The great principle of his life then, was the utter absence of selfishness, the devotion of all his faculties (which, I repeat, he considered only given him in trust) to what he felt to be the real benefit of his fellow creatures. Bearing this great and noble principle of action in mind, let us now trace him more particularly in his career. And, I know not how it is possible to give you so concise and yet comprehensive a description of his boyhood and youth up to the time when he first engaged in the momentous controversies which aroused and distracted that age, and of the motives which urged him

Frazer's Magazine, for April, 1837.

to enter into them, than in his own words, and which I am the more induced to read as they ar so admirably characteristic of the man. I am about to read an extract from his "Second Defence of the People of England" in an edition of his Prose Works, containing an able introductory review by Mr. Fletcher, and published by Mr. Childs of Bungay ;* who has made this noble present to his country, in order that those compositions which have been hitherto inaccessible from their price (several guineas being the cost of former complete editions) may be within the reach of every Englishman.

After stating that he is led in self-defence "to rescue his life from that species of obscurity which is the associate of unprincipled depravity," he says

"This it will be necessary for me to do on more accounts than one first, that so many good and learned men among the neighbouring nations, who read my works, may not be induced by this fellow's calumnies to alter the favourable opinion which they have formed of me; but may be persuaded that I am not one who ever disgraced beauty of sentiment by deformity of conduct, or the maxims of a freeman by the actions of a slave; and that the whole tenour of my life has, by the grace of God, hitherto been unsullied by any enormity or crime. Next, that those illustrious worthies, who are the objects of my praise, may know that nothing could afflict me with more shame than to have any vices of mine diminish the force or lessen the value of my panegyric upon them; and, lastly, that the people of England, whom fate, or duty, or their own virtues, have incited me to defend, may be convinced from the purity and integrity of my life, that my defence, if it do not redound to their honour, can never be considered as their disgrace. I will now mention who and whence I am. I was born at London, of an honest family; my father was distinguished by the undeviating integrity of his life; my mother by the esteem in which she was held, and the alms which she bestowed. My father destined me from a child to the pursuits of literature; and my appetite for knowledge was so voracious, that from twelve years of age I hardly ever left my studies, or went to bed before midnight. After I had acquired a proficiency in various languages, and had made a considerable progress in philosophy, I went to the University of Cambridge. Here I passed seven years in the usual course of instruction and study, with the approbation of the good, and without any stain upon my character, till I took the degree of master of arts. After this, I did not, as this miscreant feigns, run away into Italy, but of my own accord retired to my father's house, whither I was accompanied by

* At the price of 25s., and through the medium of Westley and Davis.

the regrets of most of the fellows of the college, who showed me no common marks of friendship and esteem.......I enjoyed an interval of uninterrupted leisure, which I devoted entirely to the perusal of the Greek and Latin classics; though I occasionally visited the metropolis, either for the sake of purchasing books or of learning something new in mathematics or in music, in which I at that time found a source of pleasure and amusement. In this manner I spent five years, till my mother's death; I then became anxious to visit foreign parts, and particularly Italy....... The noble Thomas Scudamore, King Charles's ambassador, to whom I carried letters of recommendation, received me most courteously at Paris. His lordship gave me a card of introduction to the learned Hugo Grotius, at that time ambassador from the Queen of Sweden to the French court. Taking ship at Nice, I arrived at Genoa, and afterwards visited Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. In the latter city, which I have always more particularly esteemed for the elegance of its dialect, its genius, and its taste, I stopped about two months; when I contracted an intimacy with many persons of rank and learning; and was a constant attendant at their literary parties; a practice which prevails there, and tends so much to the diffusion of knowledge, and the preservation of friendship. No time will ever abolish the agreeable recollections which I cherish of Jacob Gaddi, Carolo Dati, Frescobaldo, Cultellero, Bonomatthai, Clementillo, Francisco, and many others. From Florence I went to Siena, thence to Rome, where, after I had spent two months in viewing the antiquities of that renowned city, where I experienced the most friendly attentions from Lucas Holstein, and other learned and ingenious men, I continued my route to Naples. There I was introduced by a certain recluse, with whom I had travelled from Rome, to John Baptista Manso, Marquis of Villa, a nobleman of distinguished rank and authority, to whom Torquato Tasso, the illustrious poet, inscribed his book on friendship. During my stay, he gave me singular proofs of his regard; he himself conducted me round the city, and to the palace of the Viceroy; and more than once paid me a visit at my lodgings. On my departure he gravely apologized for not having shown me more civility, which he said he had been restrained from doing, because I had spoken with so little rescrve on matters of religion. When I was preparing to pass over into Sicily and Greece, the melancholy intelligence which I received, of the civil commotions in England, made me alter my purpose, for I thought it base to be travelling for amusement abroad, while my fellow citizens were fighting for liberty at home. While I was on my way back to Rome, some merchants informed me that the English jesuits had formed a plot against me if I returned to Rome, because I had spoken too freely on religion; for it was a rule which I laid down to myself in those places, never to

*The idea of Literary Institutions and their advantages anticipated; and that very phrase which is now so familiar in men's mouths, used by Milton two centuries ago!

be the first to begin any conversation on religion; but if any questions were put to me concerning my faith, to declare it without any reserve or fear. I nevertheless returned to Rome. I took no steps to conceal either my person or my character; and for about two months, I again openly defended, as I had done before, the reformed religion in the very metropolis of popery. By the favour of God, I got safe back to Florence, where I was received with much affection as if I had returned to my native country; there I stopped as many months as I had done before, except that I made an excursion for a few days to Lucia; and crossing the Apennines passed through Bologna and Turin to Venice. After I spent a month in surveying the curiosities of this city, and had put on board a ship the books which I collected in Italy, I proceeded through Verona and Milan, and along the Leman lake to Geneva. The mention of this city brings to my recollection the slandering More, and makes me again call the Deity to witness, that in all those places in which vice meets with so little discouragement, and is practised with so little shame, I never once deviated from the paths of integrity and virtue, and perpetually reflected that though my conduct might escape the notice of men, it could not elude the inspection of God. I hired a spacious house in the city for myself and my books; where I again. with rapture renewed my literary pursuits, and where I calmly waited the issue of the contest which I trusted to the wise conduct of Providence, and to the courage of the people. I saw that a way was opening for the establishment of real liberty; that the foundation was laying for the deliverance of man from the yoke of slavery and superstition; that the principles of religion which are the first objects of our care would exert a salutary influence on the manners and constitution of the republic; and as I had from my youth studied the distinctions between religious and civil rights, I perceived that if ever I wished to be of use, I ought at least not to be wanting to my country, to the church, and to so many of my fellow Christians, in a crisis of so much danger, I, therefore, determined to relinquish these other pursuits, in which I was engaged, and to transfer the whole force of my talents, and my industry, to this more important object."

He thus entered into public life, and, for many years, the history of Milton is the history of his country. It would occupy too much time, and would not only exceed the limits, but be quite beside the purpose, of this Lecture, to go minutely into that history. I shall call your attention to those circumstances which I think demand it, as I successively review the various aspects in which it seems to me this celebrated man may be regarded, viz, as a Political and Moral writer, as a practical Statesman, as a Poet, and as a Man.

1st, Then, as a Political and Moral Writer.

This subject certainly naturally branches into, and is with some difficulty separated from, the next, as most of his writings referred to, and were indeed part of, the great struggle then going on in Britain; and some of the finest of his works were written, we may almost say, ex officio, by virtue of the office which he held, viz. of secretary to Cromwell. But I shall of course observe the wise regulation of the Institution, and abstain from political comments as much as possible. Nor, though it is certainly a very important topic connected with a view of the character of Milton, is it, however, a necessary one. Ample materials remain for unbounded admiration of the man, by all persons of all creeds and principles. In a literary point of view alone, therefore, do I intend to examine the Prose works of Milton.

The first of these appeared in the year 1641, and was on the subject of the "Reformation" of religion in England. Its object is to point out the various causes which have "hindered," as the author thinks, the "Reformation," and suggesting many points in which that great measure was incomplete. The Bishop of Norwich, Hall, and the celebrated Archbishop Usher, published answers to this work, justifying the institution of Prelacy, which Milton had attacked; and in his replies intituled, "On Prelatical Episcopacy," and the "Reason of Church Government urged against Prelaty," and "Animadversions on the Remonstrants' Defence," all published in 1641, and in his "Apology for Smectymnus," published in the following year, he renewed his attack on the Episcopal authority, and justifies Dissent; contending that that authority is anti-Christian, not only unwarranted by the word of God, but inconsistent with the real advance of religion. I must again disclaim any intention of approbation or disapprobation, in respect to the tenets of Milton in Ecclesiastical discipline. I am referring to his works, for the same purpose as I should refer to the writings of Hooker, maintaining the importance of the Episcopal Institution, and of Jeremy Taylor and Doctor Barrow, champions and illustrious members of that clergy, which as a body, Milton attacked, viz., to show my hearers what