Next year, having defended all that wanted defence, he found leisure to defend himself. He undertook his own vindication against More, whom he declares in his title to be justly called the author of the “Regii Sanguinis Clamor.” In this there is no want of vehemence nor eloquence, nor does he forget his wonted wit. Morus es? an Momus? an uterque idem est? He then remembers that Morus is Latin for a mulberry-tree, and hints at the known transformation:
—Poma alba ferebat
Quæ post nigra tulit Morus.
With this piece ended his controversies; and he from this time gave himself up to his private studies and his civil employment.
As secretary to the Protector he is supposed to have written the Declaration of the reasons for a war with Spain. His agency was considered as of great importance; for, when a treaty with Sweden was artfully suspended, the delay was publicly imputed to Mr. Milton’s indisposition; and the Swedish agent was provoked to express his wonder that only one man in England could write Latin, and that man blind.
Being now forty-seven years old, and seeing himself disencumbered from external interruptions, he seems to have recollected his former purposes, and to have resumed three great works which he had planned for his future employment—an epic poem, the history of his country, and a dictionary of the Latin tongue.
To collect a dictionary seems a work of all others least practicable in a state of blindness, because it depends upon perpetual and minute inspection and collation. Nor would Milton probably have begun it, after he had lost his eyes; but, having had it always before him, he continued it, says Philips, “almost to his dying day; but the papers were so discomposed and deficient, that they could not be fitted for the press.” The compilers of the Latin dictionary, printed at Cambridge, had the use of those collections in three folios; but what was their fate afterwards is not known.
To compile a history from various authors, when they can only be consulted by other eyes, is not easy, nor possible, but with more skilful and attentive help than can be commonly obtained; and it was probably the difficulty of consulting and comparing that stopped Milton’s narrative at the Conquest—a period at which affairs were not very intricate, nor authors very numerous.
For the subject of his epic poem, after much deliberation, long choosing, and beginning late, he fixed upon “Paradise Lost,” a design so comprehensive, that it could be justified only by success. He had once designed to celebrate King Arthur, as he hints in his verses to Mansus; but “Arthur was reserved,” says Fenton, “to another destiny.”
It appears, by some sketches of poetical projects left in manuscript, and to be seen in a library at Cambridge, that he had digested his thoughts on this subject into one of those wild dramas which were anciently called Mysteries; and Philips had seen what he terms part of a tragedy, beginning with the first ten lines of Satan’s address to the Sun. These mysteries consist of allegorical persons, such as Justice, Mercy, Faith. Of the tragedy or mystery of “Paradise Lost” there are two plans
| The Persons. Michael. Chorus of Angels. Heavenly Love. Lucifer. Adam, Eve, with the Serpent Conscience. Death. Labour, } Sickness, } Discontent, } Mutes. Ignorance, } with others; } Faith. Hope. Charity. | The Persons. Moses. Divine Justice, Wisdom Heavenly Love. The Evening Star, Hesperus. Chorus of Angels. Lucifer. Adam. Eve. Conscience. Labour, } Sickness, } Discontent, } Mutes Ignorance, } Fear, } Death, } Faith. Hope. Charity. |