BRIEF A^ 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 AND irn 
 
 DECLARATION 
 OF INDEPENDENCE 
 
 WORCESTER, MASS 
 1903 
 

A BRIEF ACCOUNT 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 DECLARATION 
 OF INDEPENDENCE 
 
 V'- 
 
 a 
 
 PRKSS OF 
 
 GILBERT G. DAVIS, 38-44FRONT STREET 
 
 WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 I 903 
 
TH£ LiBRAKV OF 
 CONGRESS. 
 
 Two Copies Recaiveti 
 
 MAY 28 1903 
 
 Ccpyn^ht hntiy 
 
 hvi^ 2. ^'/^ o ^ 
 
 XXc. No. 
 COPY B. 
 
 4^ 
 
 t^^¥ 
 
 Copyrtght 1903 by Alfred JVaites. 
 
1^0 copies printed^ of which this is 
 jYo. 
 
What I have termed Milton's Declaration 
 of Independence, was written soon after the 
 execution of Charles I., 1649. 
 
 To facilitate comparison, it is printed in 
 the following pages opposite portions of The 
 Declaration of Independence by Jefferson and 
 will probably impress the reader by the simi- 
 larity of ideas and the sequence of thought. 
 
 The extracts from Milton's Prose Works 
 are taken from the first collective edition, pub- 
 lished in three volumes folio, Amsterdam, 
 (London), 1698. 
 
 A. W. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 The grandfather of John Milton was a substantial 
 yeoman who lived at Stanton St. John, about five miles 
 from Oxford, where his son, the father of the poet, is said 
 to have been a chorister and to have conformed to the 
 Anglican Church for which he was disinherited by his 
 father who adhered to the Roman Catholic faith. 
 
 Banished from his home, the son went to London 
 where, by the assistance of a friend, he engaged in busi- 
 ness as a scrivener, a profession which included several 
 duties now performed by a lawyer. He undertook the 
 management of property, invested savings, collected rents 
 and was known as a prudent, successful and honorable 
 man. He was of liberal education, a fine musician, and 
 many of his musical compositions may be found among 
 the best collections of that time. He lived over his place 
 of business, which bore the sign of The Spread Eagle, the 
 family crest, and was situated in Bread street, Cheapside. 
 In that house, on the ninth of December, 1608, John Mil- 
 ton was born. 
 
 The boy was blessed* in his parents and cherished 
 their memory with delightful tenderness. His thoughts of 
 his mother were sanctified by her graceful charities ; his 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 father's solicitude for his well-being and education was the 
 constant theme of gratitude. He was sent to St. Paul's 
 school ; the instruction received there was supplemented 
 by a private tutor at home whose careful training was 
 always eagerly acknowledged. His desire for learning 
 was impetuous ; he studied with such earnestness that from 
 his twelfth year he seldom left his books before midnight. 
 
 He was admitted to Christ's College, Cambridge, 
 Feb. 12, 1625. His fellow students soon discovered what 
 manner of youth he was. The name which they gave 
 him, '' The Lady of Christ's, " testified quite as much to 
 the purity of his thought and conversation as to his classic 
 features and dignified bearing. 
 
 In 1632, Milton proceeded to his M. A. degree and 
 left college with a firm resolution to adopt neither the pro- 
 fession of the church nor that of the law. 
 
 He now retired for a time to his father's country 
 residence in the village of Horton, about 17 miles from 
 London, something suspicious of himself as he marks the 
 rapid flight of time: — 
 
 " How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of jouth, 
 
 Stol'n on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 
 
 My hasting days fly on with full career, 
 
 But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th, 
 
 Perhaps, my semblance might deceive the truth, 
 
 That I to manhood am arrived so near. 
 
 And inward ripeness doth much less appear. 
 
 That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. 
 
 Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow. 
 
 It shall be still in strictest measure even 
 
 To that same lot, however mean or high, 
 
 Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven, 
 
 All is, if I have grace to use it so. 
 
 As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye. " 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Yet, his persevering industry had rewarded him with 
 a rare knowledge of Greek, Hebrew, with its two dialects, 
 Latin, French, Italian and Spanish, and a wide acquaint- 
 ance with the best literature. He knew that in him lay 
 the seeds of genius and he nurtured them with ceaseless 
 care. His desire was to give the world a work which it 
 should not willingly let die ; he tells us how he prepared 
 for it : 
 
 " He who would not be frustrate of his hope to 
 write well hereafter in laudable things, ought 
 himself to be a true poem; that is a composition 
 and pattern of the best and honorablest things." * 
 Again : 
 
 " Neither do I think it shame to covenant with 
 any knowing reader, that for some few years yet I 
 may go on trust with him toward the payment of 
 what I am now indebted, as being a work not to 
 be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapors 
 of wine ; like that which flows at waste from the 
 pen of some vulgar amorist, or the trencher fury 
 of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the 
 invocation of Dame Memory and her siren 
 daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal 
 Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and 
 knowledge, and sends out his Seraphim, with the 
 hallow'd fire of his altar, to touch and purify the 
 lips of whom he pleases. " t 
 
 The popular idea of Milton is, I think, that of a Puri- 
 tan poet; stiff-starched, proud and precise; an austere 
 
 ♦An Apology for Smectymnuus. I. 177. 
 fThe Reason of Church Government. I. 223. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 man dwelling in a region of perpetual frown ; selfishly re- 
 ligious, detesting laughter, forbidding pleasure ; his fea- 
 tures relaxing only^^when he grimly thought of the ultimate 
 destination of the vast majority of his fellow creatures. 
 
 The poet was, however, almost the reverse of this. 
 Until he had reached middle life he was one of the hap- 
 piest of human beings. His father's love and admiration 
 of him was boundless. He possessed a moderate share of 
 fortune, good health, maintained by temperance and exer- 
 cise. He was fond of conversation, excelled in manly 
 sports, was an admirable swordsman and a thorough 
 musician. He encouraged harmless gaiety, approved of 
 dancing, took part in village pastimes and in courtly 
 masques ; gave concerts and visited theatres. He was a 
 student " beholding the bright countenance of truth in the 
 quiet and still air of delightful studies, " "a poet soaring 
 in the high region of his fancies with his garland and sing- 
 ing robes about him. " 
 
 We should study L' Allegro if we would know 
 Milton in his early manhood. That poem illustrates the 
 buoyant spirit, the eager nature and beneficent genius to 
 which deep sorrow and harsh trial, were, as yet, strangers. 
 I have known good people to be a little startled on learn- 
 ing that Milton wrote this verse : — 
 
 " Sport, that wrinkled care derides, 
 And laughter holding both his sides, 
 Come and trip it as jou go, 
 On the light fantastic toe." 
 
 To the lovers of the poet, L' Allegro is a source of 
 perpetual delight — a well spring of happiness bubbling 
 with innocent merriment and unreproved joy. 
 
 8 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 I love to think of him at Horton in those bright sum- 
 mer days when he wrote the Masque of Comus. He was 
 wont to rise with the birds, to join in their chorus of praise 
 as the dawn flung back the curtains of the night and 
 spread the sky robes spun from Iris' woof upon the throne 
 of day. The early morning air refreshing and invigorat- 
 ing all ; the dewdrops pendent from the bladed grass like 
 diamonds glittering in the light of the rising sun. There 
 he stands upon a verdant slope. He is clad in the pic- 
 turesque costume of the time ; beautiful as Apollo, with 
 something more than human grace in form and feature. 
 His light-brown hair falling in luxuriant locks upon his 
 shoulders ; a roseate tint upon his cheeks ; the eyes, as 
 yet, undimmed, clear and serene as the heaven above him, 
 while sweetest thoughts give welcome to his pure sum- 
 mons as he sings : — 
 
 " Mortals, that would follow me, 
 Love Virtue, she alone is free. 
 She can teach je how to climb 
 Higher than the sphery chime ; 
 Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
 Heav'n itself would stoop to her. " 
 
 In 1638, Milton was provided by his indulgent father 
 with the means for travelling upon the continent, and for 
 more than 15 months journeyed from place to place, 
 most of his time being passed in Italy. He was much 
 praised by the learned there for the ease and grace of his 
 Latin verse, he tells us with amused pride that he read 
 to them the compositions of his college days, but we 
 should remember that those were worthy of him and that 
 he thought so is apparent from the fact that he had care- 
 fully prefixed the dates on which they were originally written. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 In Italy he visited Galileo, who was then suffering 
 imprisonment for thinking on matters of astronomy other 
 than the Dominican and Franciscan fathers thought. It 
 was dangerous to give free expression to ideas such as 
 his in the country of the Inquisition, and though he was 
 fearless, many of his friends there were not, and told him 
 they were deterred by his free speech, from offering the 
 attention which he merited. He did not obtrude his 
 opinions upon religious matters, but when he was ques- 
 tioned upon them he replied with a consistent and immac- 
 ulate independence. 
 
 Milton returned to England in August, 1639. He took 
 lodgings for a time in Fleet street, London, and soon after- 
 wards rented a house in Aldersgate Street where he kept a 
 private school and taught the sons of relatives and friends. 
 At this time many good people in England had been 
 disturbed by the despotic government of James and 
 Charles I. That we may better understand Milton's 
 course, it is necessary briefly to digress. 
 
 When the Anglican Church, of which the Pope had 
 been the recognized superior, turned from Roman Cath- 
 olicism and made the King arbiter in matters theological, 
 the interests of the King became identified with those of 
 a majority of the English clergy ; their offices, emoluments 
 and worldly prosperity became interwoven with his ; thus 
 he could rely upon their assistance and an immense acces- 
 sion of strength accrued to him. There is no question 
 that, in England, the Reformation in its early stages was 
 adverse to national prosperity. The clergy, under the 
 King, were less tolerant and beneficial than they had been 
 under the Pope. 
 
 10 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Elizabeth, the last of the Tudors, clearly foresaw the 
 advent of national will, as expressed through Parliament, 
 and in critical moments bowed before it with infinite tact. 
 
 When the fated Stewarts tried to rule England they 
 neither knew how to select their advisers nor how to pre- 
 serve the affection of the people. The exercise of their 
 intellects was limited to their own aggrandizement. Thus, 
 James I., on coming to England, enquired : " Do I mak' 
 the judges ? Do I mak' the bishops ? " being assured, he 
 said: " Then by God's wauns, I mak' what likes me law 
 and gospel." 
 
 This inherited determination occasioned the Puritan 
 Revolution. It was not possible that the awakening of 
 the human mind which followed the invention of printing 
 and which was magnificently illustrated during the reign 
 of Elizabeth, could content itself with mere literary expres- 
 sion. Thought, therefore, ventured to discuss every ques- 
 tion affecting the well-being of the human race. If the 
 Pope could be deposed rightfully, then archbishops and 
 bishops, even kings, could be deposed also. The Brown- 
 ists of Elizabeth's time became the Independents of James 
 and Charles. These rulers, with the Anglican clergy, en- 
 deavored to suppress nonconformity. Many of the noblest 
 and the best of English men and women emigrated to 
 New England to escape persecution. The ominous nature 
 of this proceeding was clearly pointed out by Milton: — 
 
 " O, sir," he said, " if we could but see the shape 
 of our dear mother England, as poets are wont 
 to give a personal form to what they please, how 
 would she appear, think ye, but in a mourning 
 weed, with ashes upon her head, and tears abun- 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 dantiy flowing from her eyes, to behold so many 
 of her children exposed at once, and thrust from 
 things of dearest necessity, because their con- 
 science could not assent to things which the 
 bishops thought ifidifferent. What more binding 
 than conscience ? What more free than indiffe?'- 
 eticy ? Cruel then must that indifferency needs 
 be, that shall violate the strict necessity of 
 conscience; merciless and inhuman that free 
 choice and liberty that shall break asunder the 
 bonds of religion. Let the Astrologer be dis- 
 may'd at the portentous blaze of comets and im- 
 pressions in the air, as foretelling troubles and 
 changes to states. I shall believe there cannot 
 be a more ill-boding sign to a nation than when 
 the inhabitants, to avoid insufferable grievances 
 at home, are enforced by heaps to forsake their 
 native country. " * 
 
 James I. died in 1625. His son, Charles I., succeeded 
 to his throne and his policy. In 1639 an attempt was 
 made by the King and the church to coerce the Scots, to 
 compel them to accept episcopacy. Milton, returning from 
 his travels, found "all mouths open against the bishops" 
 and entered into the dispute. His appeal was like a 
 bugle-call summoning the faithful, the rank and file of dis- 
 senting English and Scotch to combat unitedly for their 
 rights and to crush the insolence of despotism which 
 " would make a national war out of a surplice brabble. " 
 "Go on, both hand in hand, O nations, never 
 to be disunited ; be the praise and the heroic 
 
 *Of Reformation. I. 266-267. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 song of all posterity ; merit this, but seek only 
 virtue, not to extend your limits ; for what needs ? 
 to win a fading triumphant laurel out of the 
 tears of wretched men, but to settle the pure 
 worship of God in his church, and justice in 
 the state; then shall the hardest difficulties 
 smooth out themselves before ye ; envy shall 
 sink to hell, craft and malice be confounded, 
 whether it be home-bred mischief or outlandish 
 cunning ; yea other nations will then covet to 
 serve ye, for Lordship and Victory are but the 
 pages of Justice and Virtue. Commit securely 
 to true Wisdom the vanquishing and uncasing of 
 craft and sublety, which are but her two run- 
 nagates ; join your invincible might to do v/orthy 
 and God-like deeds ; and then he that seeks 
 to break your union, a cleaving curse be his 
 inheritance to all generations. " * 
 
 So far as I have noticed, most of the editors of Mil- 
 ton refer to his prose works as ephemeral productions ex- 
 erting little influence upon his own time and none upon 
 ours; moreover, these editors generally regret that the 
 poet allowed his genius to be misled by a will-o'-the-wisp 
 into the quagmire of polemics. 
 
 I cannot quite understand this because it seems to be 
 controverted by the living facts which prove that few men 
 have exerted so potent an ascendency over the minds of 
 their fellows. If the measure of influence be the degree 
 of success, Milton's prose w^orks were greatly influential in 
 England for at least, a third of a century ; true, that in- 
 
 *Of Reformation. I. 271. 
 
 13 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 fluence waned with the restoration of the Stewarts but then 
 piety, justice and common-sense waned, too. Milton's 
 thoughts were preserved and treasured by the Puritans 
 and Independents, particularly by those who left the Old 
 / England for the New. They brought the seeds of his 
 
 doctrines with them; here they struck deep root and 
 flourished, ultimately to blossom in the Declaration of 
 Independence. 
 
 In controversy, Milton displayed no hesitation, doubt 
 or misgiving. He was no stranger to himself. He knew 
 the fullness of his strength and reposed therein with per- 
 fect confidence. His opinions developed consistently. 
 His ideas of theology and politics were not liable to the 
 distortion which follows upon their illumination by a flash 
 of enthusiasm but were gradually evolved by serious med 
 itation in the sober light of day. Constancy, justice and 
 fortitude were partners of his soul. No threat could daunt 
 him and no bribe could win. He adored truth and liberty, 
 and never, knowingly, defamed the objects of his adora- 
 tion. Sincerity is evident on every page, clear, pure as 
 the sunlight dispersing evil and ignorance. He abhorred 
 avarice and ambition nobly exemplifying his hatred. He 
 scorned pecuniary benefit and freely devoted his great 
 powers to the public service : — 
 
 "Do they think then," he said, " that all these 
 meaner and superfluous things come from God, 
 and the divine gift of learning from the den of 
 Plutus, or the cave of Mammon ? Certainly never 
 any clear spirit nurst up from brighter influ- 
 ences, with a soul enlarged to the dimensions of 
 spacious art and high knowledge, ever entered 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 there but with scorn and thought it ever foul dis- 
 dain to make pelf or ambition the reward of 
 his studies, it being the greatest honor, the great- 
 est fruit and proficiency of learned studies to 
 despise these things. Not liberal science, but 
 illiberal must that needs be that mounts in con- 
 templation merely for money. "* 
 
 There was no mistaking his purpose. He indulged 
 in no wily fence play to deceive his enemy but with fierce 
 energy thrust right at the heart of inhumanity, oppression 
 and untruth. 
 
 He despised ignoble authority. He could not bear 
 to see a good and wise man in a dungeon and a fool upon a 
 throne. He claimed for every man the right to be free 
 from political and spiritual tyranny. Today, he would be 
 termed a Radical in politics and an Unitarian in religion. 
 He possessed invincible courage, an indomitable will; a 
 resolute common-sense which never faltered before a 
 proposition of human or spiritual welfare. Panoplied by 
 virtue he never shamed her armor. He fought standing 
 on the broad principle of human rights. He was indig- 
 nant at the audacity of the claim that one man's prejudices 
 should over-ride the reason of all the rest. From youth 
 to age, in prosperity and in adversity, in sickness and in 
 health, grandly consistent always. He says : — 
 
 " It were a nation miserable indeed, not worth 
 the name of a nation, but a race of idiots, whose 
 happiness and welfare depended upon one man. 
 The happiness of a nation consists in true re- 
 ligion, piety, justice, prudence, temperance, for- 
 
 *Aniniadversions, &c. I. i6i. 
 
 15 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 titude and the contempt of avarice and ambition. 
 They in whomsoever these virtues dwell emi- 
 nently, need not kings to make them happy, but 
 are the architects of their own happiness ; and 
 whether to themselves or others are not less than 
 kings."* 
 
 Charles I. abhorred the thought of popular govern- 
 ment. The people, he said, had no right beyond that of 
 having their life and property secure. How these were 
 to be guaranteed he did not say but Milton perceived very 
 clearly that if the people had no share in the government 
 they had no security for either life or property. 
 
 The causes of the Puritan Revolution were like those 
 which actuated' our own Revolution. It should surprise 
 no one to learn that the conclusions which justified the one 
 were asserted to sustain the other. There is scarcely a 
 fact affirmed by Milton against the despotism of Charles I. 
 which was not reaffirmed by Jefferson against the tyranny 
 of George III. 
 
 That Jefferson had Milton's Prose Works, particularly 
 " The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates," and " A Defense 
 of the English People," before him when he wrote the 
 Declaration of Independence is uncertain. Bancroft says 
 positively that Jefferson drew it '• from the fulness of his 
 own mind without consulting one single book,"$ yet the 
 likeness to Milton's Declaration of Independence is re- 
 markable and a comparison admirably illustrates the poli- 
 tical genius of the great poet. 
 
 *Kikonoclastes. II. 507. 
 
 fA Defence of The People of E^ngland. II. 5S1, 5S2. 
 
 jBancroft. History United States. VIII. 465. Sixth Edition, 1868. 
 
 16 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 "No man who knows ought, 
 can be so stupid to deny that 
 all men naturally were born 
 free, being the image and 
 resemblance of God him- 
 selfe, and were by privilege 
 above all the creatures, borne 
 to command and not to obey: 
 and that they lived so, till 
 from the root of Adams trans- 
 gression, falling among them- 
 selves to doe wrong and vio- 
 lence, and foreseeing that 
 such courses must needs tend 
 to the destruction of them all, 
 they agreed by common lea- 
 gue to bind each other from 
 mutual injury, and joyntly to 
 defend themselves against 
 any that gave disturbance or 
 opposition to such agreement. 
 Hence came Cities, Towns 
 and Common-wealths. And 
 because no faith in all was 
 found sufficiently binding, 
 they saw it needful to ordaine 
 some Autoritie, that might 
 restraine by force and punish- 
 ment what was violated 
 against peace and common 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 "We hold these truths 
 to be self-evident, that 
 all men are created 
 equal ; that they are en- 
 dowed by their Creator 
 with certain unalienable 
 rights; that among 
 these, are life, liberty, 
 and the pursuit of hap- 
 piness. 
 
 That, to secure these 
 rights, governments are 
 
 17 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 right : This autoritie and 
 power of self-defence and 
 preservation being originally 
 and naturally in every one of 
 them, and unitedly in them 
 all, for ease, for order ; and 
 least each man should be his 
 owne partial judge, they com- 
 municated and deriv'd either 
 to one, whom for the emi- 
 nence of his wisdom and in- 
 tegritie they chose above the 
 rest, or to more then one 
 whom they thought of equal 
 deserving: the first was 
 called a King; the other 
 Magistrates. Not to be their 
 Lords and Maisters (though 
 afterward those names in som 
 places were giv'n voluntarily 
 to such as had bin authors of 
 inestimable good to the 
 people) but to be thir Dep- 
 uties and Commissioners, to 
 execute, by vertue of thir in- 
 trusted power, that justice 
 which else every man by the 
 bond of Nature and of Cov'- 
 nant must have executed for 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 instituted among men, 
 deriving their just pow- 
 ers from the consent of 
 the governed ; 
 
 i8 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 himselfe, and for one an- 
 other." 
 
 * * ^ * * ^)^ =* 
 
 "It follows lastly, that 
 since the King or Magistrate 
 holds his autoritie of the 
 people, both originally and 
 naturally for their good in 
 the first place, and not his 
 owne, then may the people as 
 oft as they shall judge it for 
 the best, either choose him 
 or reject him, retaine him or 
 depose him though no Tyrant, 
 meerly by the libertie and 
 right of free born men to be 
 govern'd as seems to them 
 best." * 
 
 " Certainly, if no people in 
 their right wits ever com- 
 mitted the Government either 
 to a King, or other Magis- 
 trates, for any other purpose 
 than for the common good of 
 them all, there can be no 
 reason why, to prevent the 
 utter ruin of them all, they 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 that, whenever any form 
 of government becomes 
 destructive of these 
 ends, it is the right of 
 the people to alter or 
 to abolish it, and to in- 
 stitute a new govern- 
 ment, laying its founda- 
 tion on such principles, 
 and organizing its pow- 
 ers in such form, as to 
 them shall seem most 
 likely to effect their 
 safety and happiness. 
 
 *The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. pp. 531, 532, 533. 
 
 19. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 may not as well take it back 
 again from a King, as from 
 other Governors ; ^ =»^ =* * 
 And to invest any mortal 
 creature with a power over 
 themselves, on any other 
 terms than upon trust, were 
 extreme madness ; nor is it 
 credible that any people since 
 the Creation of the World, 
 who had freedom of will, were 
 ever so miserably silly, as 
 either to part with the power 
 for ever, and to all purposes, 
 or to revoke it from those 
 whom they had entrusted 
 with it, but upon most urgent 
 and weighty reasons. * * * ^ 
 Whence it follows * * * That 
 Goverfiors are not lightly to be 
 changed^ is true with respect 
 to the Peoples Prudence, not 
 the King's Right." 
 
 " Nature teaches men to 
 give way sometimes to the 
 violence and outrages of 
 Tyrants, the necessity of 
 affairs sometimes enforces a 
 Toleration with their enor- 
 mities ; what foundation can 
 
 Jefferson- 
 
 Prudence, indeed, 
 will dictate that gov- 
 ernments long estab- 
 lished, should not be 
 changed for light and 
 transient causes ; and, 
 accordingly, all ex- 
 perience hath shown,, 
 that mankind are more 
 disposed to suffer, while 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 you find in this forced pa- 
 tience of a Nation, in this 
 compulsory submission, to 
 build a Right upon, for Princes 
 to tyrannize by the Law of 
 Nature ?***=*=** 
 Nature teaches us, of two 
 evils to choose the least ; 
 and to bear with oppression, 
 as long as there is a necessity 
 of so doing." * 
 
 "A Tyrant whether by 
 wrong or by right comming 
 to the Crowne, is he who re- 
 garding neither Law nor the 
 common good, reigns onely 
 for himself and his Faction : 
 # # # # # Against 
 whom what the people lawfully 
 may doe, as against a 
 common pest, and destroyer 
 of mankinde, I suppose no 
 man of cleare judgement 
 need goe furder to be guided 
 then by the very principles 
 of nature in him." t 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 evils are suffer able 
 than to right them 
 selves by abolishing the 
 forms to which they are 
 accustomed. But, when 
 a long train of abuses 
 and usurpations, pur- 
 suing invariably the 
 same object, evinces a 
 design to reduce them 
 under absolute despot- 
 ism, it is their right, it 
 is their duty, to throw 
 off such government, 
 and to provide new 
 guards for their future 
 
 security. 
 
 * # # 
 
 * # # 
 
 *A Defence of The People of England. Vol. II. pp. 623-610. 
 fTenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. p. 535. 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 " Thus farr hath bin con- 
 sidered briefly the power of 
 Kings and Magistrates ; how- 
 it was, and is originally the 
 peoples, and by them con- 
 ferred in trust onely to bee 
 imployed to the common 
 peace and benefit; with lib- 
 ertie therefore and right re- 
 maining in them to reassume 
 it to themselves, if by Kings 
 or Magistrates it be abus'd; 
 or to dispose of it by any 
 alteration, as they shall judge 
 most conducing to the public 
 good." * 
 
 " Who knows not that there 
 is a mutual bond of amity 
 and brotherhood between 
 man and man over all the 
 World, neither is it the Eng- 
 lish Sea that can sever us 
 from that duty and relation : 
 a straiter bond yet there is 
 between fellow - subjects 
 neighbours and friends ; But 
 when any of these do one to 
 another so as hostility could 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 Nor have we been 
 wanting in attention to 
 our British brethren. 
 We have warned them, 
 from time to time, of at- 
 tempts made by their 
 legislature to extend an 
 unwarrantable jurisdic- 
 tion over us. We have 
 reminded them of the 
 circumstances of our 
 emigration and settle- 
 ment here. We have 
 appealed to their native 
 justice and magnani- 
 mity, and we have con- 
 jured them, by the ties 
 of our common kindred, 
 to disavow these usurp- 
 ations, which would in- 
 evitably interrupt our 
 connections and corre- 
 spondence. They, too, 
 have been deaf to the 
 voice of justice and 
 consanguinity. We 
 must, therefore, ac- 
 quiesce in the necessity, 
 
 *Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. II. 535. 
 22 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 Milton — 
 
 do no worse, what doth the 
 Law decree less against 
 them, then open enemies and 
 invaders ? =^ * ■* * * 
 Nor is it distance of place 
 that makes enmitie, but en- 
 mity that makes distance. 
 He therefore that keeps 
 peace with me neer or re- 
 mote, of whatsoever Nation, 
 is to me as far as all civil and 
 human Offices an English- 
 man and a Neighbour, but if 
 an Englishman forgetting alj 
 Laws, human, civil and re- 
 ligious, offend against life and 
 libertie, to him offended and 
 to the Law in his behalf, 
 .though born in the same 
 Womb, he is no better then a 
 Turk, a Sarasin, a Heathen."* 
 
 Jefferson — 
 
 which denounces our 
 separation, and hold 
 them, as we hold the 
 rest of mankind, en- 
 emies in war, in peace, 
 friends." 
 
 *Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. p. 536. 
 
 23 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 The conflict between the King and the parUament 
 was ended. Cromwell endeavored to save the King but 
 proofs of the royal duplicity were made evident again and 
 again. At length, disgusted with the Stewart's per- 
 fidy, he left the baffled monarch to his fate. The death 
 warrant of Charles I. was as Horace Walpole called it, the 
 Major Charta of English liberty. 
 
 The trial and execution of the King aroused the 
 anger of Salmasius, at that time the greatest scholar in 
 Europe with the single exception of Grotius. In a diatribe 
 of exceeding bitterness, he exclaimed against the English 
 people. Milton replied: his Defence of the English 
 people made him known throughout the Continent. He 
 was hailed as the Vindicator of Liberty. All Europe rang 
 with his fame. 
 
 The attack of Salmasius was furious but it lacked 
 argument which could commend it to other than those who 
 flourished on despotism. It was a plea for tyranny and 
 the perpetuation of injustice. It ignored the rights and 
 the desires of the individual subject, considering him as a 
 creature born to be taxed ; existing politically, merely as a 
 necessary and divinely appointed contributor to kingly 
 power ; having no inherent right to any share in govern- 
 ment, nor with liberty to protest against its measures so 
 long as his life and property were not endangered. This 
 was, indeed, the argument of Charles I. himself. A brief 
 extract from Milton's First Defence will prove with what 
 supreme ability he answered it. 
 
 In his Preface to A Defence of the People of England - 
 he says : — 
 
 24 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 " Nature and Laws would be in an ill case, if Slav- 
 ery should find what to say for itself, and Liberty 
 be mute : and if Tyrants should find men to 
 plead for them, and they that can master and 
 vanquish Tyrants, should not be able to find ad- 
 vocates. And it were a deplorable thing indeed, 
 if the reason mankind is endu'd withal, and 
 which is the gift of God, should not furnish more 
 arguments for men's preservation, for their de- 
 liverance, and, as much as the nature of the 
 thing will bear, for making them equal to one 
 another, than for their oppression, and for their 
 utter ruin under the domineering power of one 
 single person. Let me therefore enter upon this 
 noble cause with a cheerfulness grounded upon 
 this assurance, that my adversary's cause is 
 maintained by nothing but Fraud, Fallacy, 
 Ignorance and Barbarity; whereas mine has 
 Light, Truth, Reason, the Practice and the 
 Learning of the best ages of the world upon its 
 side."* 
 
 Vituperation is undoubtedly a blemish in controversy ; 
 we may well regret that Milton here made such free use 
 of it ; but the weakness brings the poet a little closer to 
 us. He convicted his antagonist of misrepresentation, 
 deceit and untruth. No vituperation could make those 
 facts other than hideous. It was unnecessary to call Sal- 
 masius a liar after having proved him one. It was a work 
 of supererogation to term him "a tormentor of semi- 
 
 *A Defence of the People of England. II. 559. 
 
 25 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 colons." The castigation administered by Milton was 
 frightful. Salmasius never recovered from it. 
 
 The warning was sufficient to hinder wise men from 
 renewing the controversy, but an unwise man ventured to 
 attack Milton in a volume entitled, "The Blood of the 
 King Clamoring to Heaven." This work was attributed 
 to Alexander Morus, who, indeed, had supervised the 
 proof and publication and wrote the preface in which Mil- 
 ton was further reviled. This called forth : " The Second 
 Defence of John Milton, Englishman, for the People of 
 England." Salmasius had been ignominiously whipped 
 and now Morus was flayed alive. The poor wretch 
 begged for pity, screamed with terror and disowned the 
 authorship. Milton was relentless and buried his victim 
 under an accumulation of vituperative Latin. 
 
 Cromwell was now Protector and Milton Latin Sec- 
 retary to the Council of State. We know not if either ever 
 spoke to the other, but we know that the poet, with the 
 rare independence which was his, dared to differ from the 
 Protector's policy more than once. It would be very in- 
 teresting to learn what Cromwell thought of the Secretary ; 
 we know what the Secretary thought of Cromwell. 
 
 "We were left," he says, addressing Oliver, "we 
 were left to ourselves : the whole national in- 
 terest fell into your hands, and subsists only in 
 your abilities. To your virtue, overpowering 
 and resistless, every man gives way, except some 
 who, without equal qualifications, aspire to equal 
 honors, who envy the distinctions of merit greater 
 than their own, or who have yet to learn that in 
 the coalition of human society, nothing is more 
 
 26 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 pleasing to God, or more agreeable to reason, 
 than that the highest mind should have the sov- 
 ereign power. Such, Sir, are you by general 
 confession ; such are the things achieved by you, 
 the greatest and most glorious of our country- 
 men, the director of our public councils, the 
 leader of unconquered armies, the father of your 
 country ; for by such title does every good man 
 hail you with sincere and voluntary praise." * 
 
 Oliver's son, Richard, succeeded him as Protector, 
 but the master-mind was gone and public affairs drifted 
 to confusion. Milton vainly endeavored to recall the 
 achievements of the Commonwealth and most truly 
 prophesied the consequences of the restoration of the 
 Stewarts. In a little less than two years after Oliver's 
 death Charles II. came back in triumph. 
 
 Now, England, Milton's dear mother England, fell 
 from the zenith of her glory and sank to the lowest depths 
 of degradation ; but the great poet was 
 
 " unchang'd, 
 * * * Though faH'n on evil days, 
 On evil days thougli fall'n and evil tongues, 
 In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round 
 And solitude — "t 
 
 To that " solitude " we are indebted for the '' Paradise 
 Lost." 
 
 I should call attention to the fact, which seems 
 to have escaped the general notice of book-buyers, that 
 some editions of " Paradise Lost " do not contain a 
 
 ♦Johnson I,ives. I. io6. 
 tParadise L,ost. VII. 24. 
 
 27 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 vigorous line in the twelfth book. The editions referred 
 to commencing with the 64th line and ending with the 
 70th line read as follows: 
 
 " O execrable son ! so to aspire 
 Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
 Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n, 
 He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, 
 Dominion absolute ; that right Ave hold 
 Bj his donation ; such title to Himself 
 Reserving, human left from human free." 
 
 How characteristic of Milton the line omitted is : — 
 
 " O execrable son ! so to aspire 
 Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
 Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n. 
 He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl. 
 Dominion absolute ; that right we hold 
 By his donation ; hut man over meti 
 He made not lord, such title to Himself 
 Reserving, human left from human free." 
 
 Paradise Lost was written " to justify the ways of 
 God to men," to show that, eventually, iniquity shall be 
 defeated, its utmost malice thwarted, its curse become a 
 blessing and its evil turned to good. The arch-fiend 
 suspects the godlike purpose. 
 
 " * * * If then his providence 
 Out of our evil seek to bring forth good. 
 Our labor must be to pervert that end 
 And out of good still to find means of evil." 
 
 " * * * but that the will 
 And high permission of all-ruling heaven 
 Left him at large to his own dark designs ; 
 That with reiterated crimes he might 
 Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 
 Evil to others, and enraged might see 
 28 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 How all his malice served but to bring forth 
 Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown 
 On man by him seduced." 
 
 When the archangel Michael reveals the future to 
 Adam before expelling him from Eden, " our sire 
 
 " Replete with joy and wonder thus replied : 
 O goodness infinite, goodness immense ! 
 That all this good of evil shall produce, 
 And evil turn to good ; more wonderful 
 Than that which by creation first brought forth 
 Light out of darkness ! " 
 
 The invocation is a prayer, sublimely beautiful where 
 conscious power is joined with deep humility and hearted 
 love with glowing faith. 
 
 What forceful reasoning that is of the evil spirits 
 in which the noblest attributes of the human mind are 
 debased by exaltation while our sympathy accompanies 
 the wagging of those rebeUious tongues ! It is said that 
 Professor Porson narrated an instance of this. Once 
 riding in a stage coach from Banbury to Oxford with one 
 companion, a commercial gentleman, the Professor intro- 
 duced the subject of Milton and recited portions of 
 *' Paradise Lost," concluding with : 
 
 " * * * What though the field be lost? 
 All is not lost ; th' unconquerable will, 
 And study of revenge, immortal hate 
 And courage never to submit or yield, 
 And what is else not to be overcome ; 
 That glory never shall his wrath or might 
 Extort from me : to bow and sue for grace 
 With suppliant knee, and deify his power, 
 Who from the terror of this arm so late 
 Doubted his empire." 
 
 29 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed the commercial gentle- 
 man, " Dear me ! I hope he'll win." 
 
 In the great epic, Milton loved to introduce the 
 names of men and places with which his learning had 
 made him familiar, he does this with exquisite skill; 
 each is a name renowned in history or romance, in fable 
 or in song ; names which cling to the memory as the per" 
 fume to the rose. 
 
 The great poet sometimes revelled in terrific imagery. 
 The mind is almost tortured to realize its awful signifi- 
 cance. Thus, when the prince of darkness, exulting, 
 tells his compeers of his victory over our first parents 
 and his triumph over the Omnipotent, expecting applause, 
 he is horrified by the hisses encompassing him and in 
 terror beholds the bodies, made in God's likeness, shrink 
 away from himself and from the fallen angels and their 
 subtlety become enwrapped with the serpent's slimy form. 
 
 Is there anything in literature finer than his lines upon 
 Hypocrisy ? 
 
 " For neither man nor angel can discern 
 
 Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 
 
 Invisible, except to God alone, 
 
 By his permissive will, through heav'n and earth : 
 
 And oft, though w^isdom w^ake, suspicion sleeps 
 
 At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 
 
 Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 
 
 Where no ill seems." 
 
 How beautiful the description of evening and of 
 night : — 
 
 30 
 
JO-HN MILTON 
 
 " Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
 Had in her sober liverj all things clad ; 
 Silence accompanied, for beast and bird, 
 Thej to their grassy couch, these to their nests, 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
 She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
 Silence was pleas'd ; now glow'd the firmament 
 With living sapphires ; Hesperus that led 
 The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon. 
 Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
 Apparent queen unveiled her peerless light. 
 And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. " 
 
 " Was there ever anything so delightful as the 
 music of ' Paradise Lost " ' ? wrote the poet 
 Cowper to Unwin. 
 
 Melody was a part of Milton's great inheritance. 
 With him earthly joy became a gladsome song and 
 heavenly praise a quiring symphony. His mind was at- 
 tuned to lyric rapture ; its least expression was in perfect 
 concord, like that of the noble^instrument upon which he 
 loved to interpret his highest thought. As you listen to 
 that music the air is tremulous with the majestic diapason, 
 quivers with sympathy, while the soul beats its wings 
 against its mortal cage as if striving to join the glorious 
 harmonies soaring heavenwards. 
 
 " Thou hast said much of ' Paradise Lost,' " said 
 the Quaker Elwood to Milton. "What hast 
 thou to say of Paradise Found ?" Upon that hint 
 the poet wrote * Paradise Regained ' ; that, with 
 Samson Agonistes, was his last work. 
 
 And now Milton was an old, blind man. He had 
 nearly reached the alloted span of human life, the three- 
 Si 
 
JOHN MILTON 
 
 score years and ten. The cause for which he had fought 
 was vanquished and lay prostrate in the dust. The time 
 was out of joint. Renegades flourished, apostacy was 
 honored as a virtue. Genius was obscured by the imps 
 of darkness ; the greatest man in all the world was left to 
 die almost destitute, friendless and alone. Yet high 
 thoughts had ever been his best companions and the dear 
 knowledge that his integrity was untarnished, that he had 
 been true to God and to his fellow men yielded comfort 
 inexpressible. Well might he have addressed those about 
 him in the words which he placed between the lips of 
 Samson: 
 
 "Happen what may, of me expect to hear 
 Nothing dishonorable, impure, unworthy 
 Our God, our law, my nation or myself." 
 
 He died as he had lived. No accusation against 
 Fate, no querulous complaining, no despondent word. 
 Unsullied conscience. Virtue's champion ; pure-eyed Faith, 
 white-handed Hope, like ministering angels, ushered that 
 faithful soul into the bliss of never ending peace. 
 
 "Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
 Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt. 
 Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
 And what may quiet us in a death so noble." 
 
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