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Eight years were to pass, and nothing more was to be heard of Salmasius in this controversy. But it was not to be supposed that the Defence of the Feople of England, with the praises of which Europe "rang from side to side," would pass without some attempted answers. Several were issued, and left to their fate. One published anonymously Milton attributed to Bishop Bramhall. Its author, however, was an unknown episcopal clergyman named Rowland. To this piece John Phillips, one of Milton's nephews, wrote a reply, which the poet himself revised before publication.

We have seen that in 1649 Milton removed from Barbican to Holborn. On accepting his appointment as secretary, he removed to apartments assigned him in Whitehall, but, from some unknown cause, he was required to vacate his new quarters, and some time after the midsummer of 1651, he took a pretty garden-house in Petty France, in Westminster, next door to Lord Scudamore's, opening into St. James's Park. In this house Milton continued until the Restoration -eight years.1

As the blindness of Milton came upon him by slow degrees, it has not been found easy to fix on the exact time at which his sight may be said to have totally failed. One of his opponents describes him as blind in 1652. This alone would not be sufficient evidence; but Milton, in his reply to this writer, so expresses himself as to warrant us in fixing the event in that year-

In a letter to a friend, dated September, 1654, he states, that during ten years he had felt his sight grow "weak and dim;" and he describes the process of the privation until light had "faded into a uniform blackness, such as ensues on the extinguishing of a candle." "When I sate down," he says, " to read as usual in the morning, my eyes gave me considerable pain, and refused their office till fortified by moderate exercise of body. If I looked at a candle it appeared surrounded with an iris. In a little a darkness covering the left side of the left eye, which was partially clouded some years before the other, intercepted the view of all things in that direction. Objects also in front seemed to dwindle in size whenever I closed my right eye. This eye, too, for three years gradually failing, a few months previous to my total blindness, while I was perfectly stationary, and now thick vapours appear to settle on my forehead and temples, which weigh down my lids with an oppressive sense of drowsiness, especially in the interval between dinner and the evening. I ought not to omit mentioning that before I wholly lost my sight, as soon as I lay down in bed, and turned upon either side, brilliant flashes of light used to issue from my closed eyes; and afterwards, upon the gradual failure of my powers of vision, colours, proportionately dim and faint, seemed to rush out with a degree of vehemence and a kind of inward noise." But after 1652 these vestiges of the departing light recurred no more.

The only work in reply to his Defence of the People of England which Milton condescended to answer was a publication, intitled Regi Sanguinis Clamor ad Cœlum adversus Parricidis Anglicanos (The Cry of Royal Blood to Heaven against the English Parricides). The author of this work was a Peter Du Moulin, resident in England, but of French origin. We learn from himself that the manuscript was sent to Salmasius, who entrusted the printing of it to a person named Moore-Latinised "Morus"—a Scotchman, who was the Principal of then Protestant College of Castres, in Languedoc. The volume bore no name except that of the printer; but under that name Morus himself wrote a dedication of the work to Charles II. Milton somehow came to know that Morus had been concerned in sending forth this work, and fastened upon him as its author. His Second Defence, thus provoked, was published in 1654; and as the work to be dealt with was full of the

Phillips's Life of Milton.

2 Symmons's Life of Milton.

grossest assaults on his private character, Milton was led by this circumstance to vindicate himself against all such aspersions, and at the same time to give the world his judgment as to the character of the men who had become most conspicious in originating and sustaining the English Commonwealth. The biographical value of this Second Defence is great. We owe thus much to the short-sighted malignity of Milton's assailants. Morus attempted a reply, which Milton answered, and to a second rejoinder he added a supplement. But the controversy was exhausted.

In 1653 Milton became a widower. His wife is said to have died in her last confinement. During the next three years, while engaged in discussing questions of the greatest public interest, and in the sight of Europe, his home, there is reason to fear, was not in a satisfactory state. His wife had left him blind, with three children, all girls, the youngest only two years old, and the cldest not more than eight. We learn from himself, that much as he had served the Commonwealth, he was never made in any degree the richer by such labour. His income, accordingly, must have consisted in his salary as Secretary, at best somewhat less than £300 a year, and in his private means. In 1655, his blindness having rendered it necessary that he should be assisted in his office, his salary was reduced to £150 a year, which was assigned to him as to be his for his life. Soon afterwards, his faithful friend Andrew Marvel, was appointed his coadjutor in his official duty-an appointment which appears to have been made at his own suggestion.1

It was when his personal circumstances had assumed this posture that Milton married his second wife. This lady was a Miss Woodcock, daughter of Captain Woodcock, of Hackney. How the domestic affairs of Milton had been managed during the last three years is not known; but that the three young children were neglected, as they would not have been by a mother of only ordinary intelligence, is highly probable. With Catherine Woodcock Milton realised a happiness in married life hitherto unknown to him, and the children, we can imagine, began to show signs of improvement under her influence. But this gleam of sunshine sent through the home of the poet was to be of short duration. Fifteen months after her marriage his wife died in her confinement, and the infant did not live. The following beautiful sonnet expresses the feeling with which Milton never ceased to regard this sainted woman :-

> "Methought I saw my late-espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from Death by force, though pale and faint, Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint, Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shined So clear, as in no face with more delight. But, oh ! as to embrace me she inclined, I waked; she fled; and day brought back my night."

Eight eventful years were to pass before Milton was to marry again. The division of labour, as touching his office as secretary, must have given him more command of time. He still occupied himself with his History of England, and he now began to make collections towards an improved Latin dictionary, and occupied himself in digesting materials for a body of divinity. But soon after he became a widower a second time, his thoughts began to settle on the Fall of

Mitford-Masson.