LIFE OF MILTON.

CHAPTER I.

John Milton was born on December 9, 1608, when Shakespeare had lately produced “Antony and Cleopatra,” when Bacon was writing his “Wisdom of the Ancients” and Ralegh his “History of the World,” when the English Bible was hastening into print; when, nevertheless, in the opinion of most foreigners and many natives, England was intellectually unpolished, and her literature almost barbarous.

The preposterousness of this judgment as a whole must not blind us to the fragment of truth which it included.  England’s literature was, in many respects, very imperfect and chaotic.  Her “singing masons” had already built her “roofs of gold”; Hooker and one or two other great prose-writers stood like towers:  but the less exalted portions of the edifice were still half hewn.  Some literatures, like the Latin and the French, rise gradually to the crest of their perfection; others, like the Greek and the English, place themselves almost from the first on their loftiest pinnacle, leaving vast gaps to be subsequently filled in.  Homer was not less the supreme poet because history was for him literally an old song, because he would have lacked understanding for Plato and relish for Aristophanes.  Nor were Shakespeare and the translators of the Bible less at the head of European literature because they must have failed as conspicuously as Homer would have failed in all things save those to which they had a call, which chanced to be the greatest.  Literature, however, cannot remain isolated at such altitudes, it must expand or perish.  As Homer’s epic passed through Pindar and the lyrical poets into drama history and philosophy, continually fitting itself more and more to become an instrument in the ordinary affairs of life, so it was needful that English lettered discourse should become popular and pliant, a power in the State as well as in the study.  The magnitude of the change, from the time when the palm of popularity decorated Sidney’s “Arcadia” to that when it adorned Defoe and Bunyan, would impress us even more powerfully if the interval were not engrossed by a colossal figure, the last of the old school in the erudite magnificence of his style in prose and verse; the first of the new, inasmuch as English poetry, hitherto romantic, became in his hands classical.  This “splendid bridge from the old world to the new,” as Gibbon has been called in a different connection, was John Milton:  whose character and life-work, carefully analyzed, resolve themselves into pairs of equally vivid contrasts.  A stern Puritan, he is none the less a freethinker in the highest and best sense of the term.  The recipient of direct poetical inspiration in a measure vouchsafed to few, he notwithstanding studies to make himself a poet; writes little until no other occupation than writing remains to him; and, in general, while exhibiting even more than the usual confidence, shows less than