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may have seemed to say that the fitting time had now come. The cost of his project would be considerable, as it was his intention to travel as a gentleman, with his own servant. His affectionate father, we may suppose, felt less hesitation on that ground than on some others. But his consent was given, and in May, 1638, Milton crossed the channel, on his way to Paris. He had been careful to obtain good introductions. One of these came from his distinguished neighbour, Sir Henry Wotton, Provost of Eton. The provost had lately become possessed of a copy of Comus, as printed by Henry Lawes, which had delighted him greatly. He had also conversed on some occasion with the author, and assures him that the pleasure of that interview was such as to have led him to hope for a renewal of the "draught," by inviting him to "a poor meal or two," when they "might have banded together some good authors." The following is the postscript to an epistle from the courteous old provost:—"Sir,—I have expressly sent this my footboy to prevent your departure without some acknowledgment from me of the receipt of your obliging letter, having myself, through some business, I know not how neglected the ordinary conveyance. In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad and diligent to entertain you with home novelties; ever for some fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the cradle."

On his arrival at Paris, one of Milton's introductions secured him the friendly notice of Lord Scudamore, the English ambassador; and through his lordship's personal courtesy the young Englishman was introduced to the learned Hugo Grotius, then ambassador from the Queen of Sweden to the French Court. We know nothing of what passed at this interview, except that Grotius is said to have taken "the visit kindly," and to have given his visitor "entertainment suitable to his worth and the high commendations he had heard of him." But Grotius was much occupied at that time with a dream about strengthening Protestantism by uniting the Episcopalian Churches of that faith—in England, Sweden, Denmark, Norway—and passing by all other Protestants. If this sorry project was broached to Milton, his response, we may be sure, would not be of a very agreeable description.

Milton's stay in Paris was for a few days only. From Paris he journeyed to Nice; thence he sailed to Genoa, and thence to Leghorn. From Leghorn his route was through Pisa to Florence. In the latter city he remained two months. Florence was then, as it has been for centuries, the great seat of Italian culture. Almost every street had its academy or club, consisting of the voluntary associations of scholars, poets, artists, and men of science. By the help of introductions obtained in England or Paris, Milton was readily admitted into some of the most distinguished of these fraternities. To the enjoyment of this privilege it was necessary that some composition from his pen should be produced, and this condition was complied with by presenting some of the things written by him while at Cambridge, or others written for the purpose. Being able to speak both Latin and Italian with correctness and fluency, he was at once on a level with his new friends; and great, it would seem, was the pleasure he found in such meetings. When nobly pleading, at a later time, for the liberty of the press, he says: "I would recount what I have seen and heard in other countries where this kind of inquisition tyranises; where I have sat among their learned men-for this honour I had-and been counted happy to be born in such a place of philosophic freedom as they supposed England was, while themselves did nothing but bemoan the damped the glory of Itali damped the glory of Italian wits; that nothing had been there written, now these many years, but flattery and fustian." In the company of persons of this order, Milton was admitted to the

¹ Reliquæ Wottonianæ. Printed also by Milton, in his edition of Comus, in 1645.

2 Philips.

presence and discourse of the great philosopher of the age. "There," he says, "it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought." Milton and Galileo face to face! And Galileo in the state to which the younger man now gazing upon him will come—in darkness, blind! But, for the present, Milton enjoys the light—the light of the Italian sky, and, when day has fled, the light which gives so much brilliancy to those learned gatherings, and to the higher circles of Florence. For it is evident that to the latter Milton had admission, and that his heart, guarded as it might be, was not wholly proof against impression from the beauty to be seen in those circles. Pieces written by him in Florence will be found among his poems, and verses composed there in his praise have come down to us—verses which, if they do not show great genius in the writers, show clearly enough how unusual must have been the admiration awakened by the genius of Milton.

From Florence Milton took his course towards Rome, by way of Sienna. In Rome he soon made the acquaintance of Lucas Holstenius, the keeper of the Vatican library, and with little or no introduction. Holstenius had studied three years in Oxford-a fact which may in part explain the special courtesy which Milton remembered so gratefully. But his courtesy rose into admiration as he began to discover the stores of learning possessed by the stranger, and as he felt the potency with which he could use his knowledge. So moved was he that he must needs sound the praises of his new acquaintance in the hearing of Cardinal F. Barbarini, the Pope's relative and his prime minister. A few days later, the cardinal gives a grand concert, and among the persons invited is the traveller who had so fascinated Holstenius. On which occasion, says Milton, the cardinal, waiting at the door, "sought me out in so great a crowd, may, almost laying a hold of me by the hand, admitted me within, in a manner the most truly honourable." All this, he tells his friend Holstenius, must have come from his good offices. It was at the cardinal's, probably, that Milton heard Leonora sing-a young and beautiful woman, whose voice and science had made her queen in her department. Milton has apprised us of the entranced feeling with which he listened to her notes, by writing no less than three epigrams in praise of her skill. Two Romans, Joannes Salsilus and Salvaggi-names forgotten in our time, but of some note thenwrote lines on Milton, full of extravagant eulogy; and the former was so far esteemed by the post that on hearing subsequently of his illness, Milton addressed lines of condolence to him in Latin

When about two months had been occupied in exploring the remains of ancient Rome, and in this sort of intercourse with its modern inhabitants, Milton set his face towards Naples. On his way thither, a hermit was allowed to share his vehicle with him. The recluse proved to be a man of some literary culture, and being charmed by the traveller, very much as Holstenius had been before him, on arriving at Naples, he must see that a person of so much worth does not leave the place without being introduced to Manzo, Marquis of Villa, a person of high place in those parts, and the patron of genius everywhere. Every one acquainted with the sad history of Torquate Tasso must be familiar with the name of John Baptist Manzo, his steady and generous friend. Manzo was now nearly eighty years of age. He received Milton conteously, and the effect of the interview we may learn from the fact that he became in person the guide of the young scholar to all places of interest in Naples and its neighbourhood. "I experienced from him," says Milton, "as long as I remained there, the most friendly attentions. He accompanied me to the various parts of the city, and took me over the viceroy's palace and came more than once to my lodgings to visit me. At my departure he made earnest excuses to me for not having been able to show