His mother survived him thirty-eight years, passing out in Eighteen Hundred Thirty-four. Burns left four sons, each of whom was often pointed out as the son of his father—but none of them was.
This is all I think of, at present, concerning Robert Burns.
For further facts I must refer the Gentle Reader to the “Encyclopedia Britannica,” a compilation that I cheerfully recommend, it having been vouched for to me by a dear friend, a clergyman of East Aurora, who, the past year, perused the entire work, from A to Z, reading five hours a day: and therefore is competent to speak.
JOHN MILTON
Thus
with the year
Seasons return; but not to
me returns
Day, or the sweet approach
of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom,
or summer’s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human
face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during
dark
Surrounds me; from the cheerful
ways of men
Cut off, and for the book
of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal
blank
Of Nature’s works, to
me expunged and rased,
And wisdom at one entrance
quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, Celestial
Light,
Shine inward, and the mind
through all her powers
Irradiate; there plant eyes,
all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I
may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal
sight.
—Paradise
Lost: Book III
[Illustration: John Milton]
Shakespeare and Milton lived at the same time, though the difference in their ages was such that we may not speak of them as contemporaries. John Milton was eight years old when William Shakespeare died. The Miltons lived in Bread Street, and out of the back garret-window of their house could catch a glimpse of the Globe Theater.
The father of John Milton might have known Shakespeare—might have dined with him at the “Mermaid,” played skittles with him on Hampstead Heath, fished with him from the same boat in the river at Richmond; and then John Milton, the lawyer, might have discreetly schemed for passes to the “Globe” and gone with his boy John, Junior, to see “As You Like It” played, with the Master himself in the role of old Adam.
Bread Street was just off Cheapside, where the Mermaid Tavern stood, and where Beaumont, Fletcher, Ben Jonson and other roysterers often lingered and made the midnight echo with their mirth. In all probability, John Milton, Senior, father of John Milton, Junior, knew Shakespeare well. But the Miltons owned their home; were rich, influential, eminently respectable; attended Saint Giles’ Church, and really didn’t care to cultivate the society of play-actors who kept bad hours, slept in the theater, and had meal-tickets at half a dozen taverns.
There were six children born into the Milton family, three of whom died in infancy. Of the survivors, the eldest was Anne, the second John, the third Christopher.