Characters from the Histories & Memoirs of the Seventeenth Century Part 15

He was an early riser: Sc: at 4 a clock mane. yea, after he lost his sight: He had a man read to him: The first thing he read was the Hebrew bible, and that was at 4'h. mane 1/2'h.+. Then he contemplated.

At 7 his man came to him again & then read to him and wrote till dinner: the writing was as much as the reading. His daughter Deborah 2[1] could read to him Latin, Italian, & French, & Greeke; married in Dublin to one M'r Clarke [sells silke &c[2]] very like her father. The other sister is Mary 1[1], more like her mother. After dinner he usd to walke 3 or 4 houres at a time, he alwayes had a Garden where he lived: went to bed about 9. Temperate, rarely drank between meales.

Extreme pleasant in his conversation, & at dinner, supper &c: but Satyricall. He p.r.o.nounced the letter R very hard. a certaine signe of a Satyricall Witt. from Jo. Dreyden.

[Footnote 1: '2' and '1', marking seniority, above the names.]

[Footnote 2: 'sells silke &c' above 'a Mercer'.]

[Sidenote: Litera Canina.]

He had a delicate tuneable Voice & had good skill: his father instructed him: he had an Organ in his house: he played on that most.

His exercise was chiefly walking.

He was visited much by learned[1]: more then he did desire.

[Footnote 1: 'by learned' added above the line.]

He was mightily importuned to goe into France & Italie. Foraigners came much to see him, and much admired him, & offered to him great preferments to come over to them, & the only inducement of severall foreigners that came over into England, was chifly to see O. Protector & M'r J. Milton, and would see _the house and chamber_ wher _he_ was borne: he was much more admired abrode then at home.

His harmonicall, and ingeniose soule did lodge[1] in a beautifull and well proportioned body--In toto nusquam corpore menda fuit. Ovid.

[Footnote 1: 'did lodge' above 'dwelt'.]

He had a very good memory: but I believe that his excellent Method of thinking, & disposing did much helpe his memorie.

Of a very cheerfull humour.

He was very healthy, & free from all diseases, seldome tooke any Physique, only sometimes he tooke Manna[1], and only towards his later end he was visited with the Gowte--Spring & Fall: he would be chearfull even in his Gowte-fitts: & sing.

[Footnote 1: 'seldome ... Manna' added above the line.]

He died of the gowt struck in the 9th or 10th of Novemb 1674, as appeares by his Apothecaryes Booke.

58.

Note by EDWARD PHILLIPS.

There is another very remarkable Pa.s.sage in the Composure of this Poem [_Paradise Lost_], which I have a particular occasion to remember; for whereas I had the perusal of it from the very beginning; for some years as I went from time to time to Visit him, in a Parcel of Ten, Twenty, or Thirty Verses at a Time, which being Written by whatever hand came next, might possibly want Correction as to the Orthography and Pointing; having as the Summer came on, not been shewed any for a considerable while, and desiring the reason thereof, was answered, That his Veine never happily flow'd, but from the _Autumnal Equinoctial_ to the _Vernal_, and that whatever he attempted was never to his satisfaction, though he courted his fancy never so much; so that in all the years he was about this Poem, he may be said to have spent but half his time therein.

59.

Notes by JONATHAN RICHARDSON.

One that had Often seen him, told me he us'd to come to a House where He Liv'd, and he has also Met him in the Street, Led by _Millington_, the same who was so Famous an Auctioneer of Books about the time of the Revolution, and Since. This Man was then a Seller of Old Books in _Little Britain_, and _Milton_ lodg'd at his house. This was 3 or 4 Years before he Dy'd. he then wore no Sword that My Informer remembers, though Probably he did, at least 'twas his Custom not long before to wear one with a Small Silver-Hilt, and in Cold Weather a Grey Camblet Coat....

I have heard many Years Since that he Us'd to Sit in a Grey Coa.r.s.e Cloth Coat at the Door of his House, near _Bun-hill_ Fields Without _Moor-gate_, in Warm Sunny Weather to Enjoy the Fresh Air, and So, as well as in his Room, receiv'd the Visits of People of Distinguished Parts, as well as Quality, and very Lately I had the Good Fortune to have Another Picture of him from an Ancient Clergyman in _Dorsetshire_, Dr. _Wright_; He found him in a Small House, he thinks but One Room on a Floor; in That, up One pair of Stairs, which was hung with a Rusty Green, he found _John Milton_, Sitting in an Elbow Chair, Black Cloaths, and Neat enough, Pale, but not Cadaverous, his Hands and Fingers Gouty, and with Chalk Stones. among Other Discourse He exprest Himself to This Purpose; that was he Free from the Pain This gave him, his Blindness would be Tolerable.

... besides what Affliction he Must have from his Disappointment on the Change of the Times, and from his Own Private Losses, and probably Cares for Subsistence, and for his Family; he was in Perpetual Terror of being a.s.sa.s.sinated, though he had Escap'd the Talons of the Law, he knew he had Made Himself Enemies in Abundance. he was So Dejected he would lie Awake whole Nights. He then kept Himself as Private as he could. This Dr. _Tancred Robinson_ had from a Relation of _Milton's_, Mr. _Walker_ of the Temple. and This is what is Intimated by Himself, VII. 26.

_On Evil Daies though fall'n and Evil Tongues, in Darkness, and with Dangers compast round, and Solitude_.

Mr. _Bendish_ has heard the Widow or Daughter or Both say it, that Soon after the Restauration the King Offer'd to Employ this Pardon'd Man as his Latin Secretary, the Post in which he Serv'd _Cromwell_ with So much Integrity and Ability; (that a like Offer was made to _Thurlow_ is not Disputed as ever I heard) _Milton_ Withstood the Offer; the Wife press'd his Compliance. _Thou art in the Right_ (says he) _You, as Other Women, would ride in your Coach; for Me, My Aim is to Live and Dye an Honest Man_.

Other Stories I have heard concerning the Posture he was Usually in when he Dictated, that he Sat leaning Backward Obliquely in an Easy Chair, with his Leg flung over the Elbow of it. that he frequently Compos'd lying in Bed in a Morning ('twas Winter Sure Then) I have been Well inform'd, that when he could not Sleep, but lay Awake whole Nights, he Try'd; not One Verse could he make; at Other times flow'd _Easy his Unpremeditated Verse_, with a certain _Impetus_ and _aestro_, as Himself seem'd to Believe. Then, at what Hour soever, he rung for his Daughter to Secure what Came. I have been also told he would Dictate many, perhaps 40 Lines as it were in a Breath, and then reduce them to half the Number.

60.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

_Born 1618. Died 1667._

_Of My self._

It is a hard and nice Subject for a man to write of himself, it grates his own heart to say any thing of disparagement, and the Readers Eares to hear any thing of praise from him. There is no danger from me of offending him in this kind; neither my Mind, nor my Body, nor my Fortune, allow me any materials for that Vanity. It is sufficient, for my own contentment, that they have preserved me from being scandalous, or remarkable on the defective side. But besides that, I shall here speak of myself, only in relation to the subject of these precedent discourses, and shall be likelier thereby to fall into the contempt, then rise up to the estimation of most people. As far as my Memory can return back into my past Life, before I knew, or was capable of guessing what the world, or glories, or business of it were, the natural affections of my soul gave me a secret bent of aversion from them, as some Plants are said to turn away from others, by an Antipathy imperceptible to themselves, and inscrutable to mans understanding. Even when I was a very young Boy at School, instead of running about on Holy-daies and playing with my fellows, I was wont to steal from them, and walk into the fields, either alone with a Book, or with some one Companion, if I could find any of the same temper.

I was then too, so much an Enemy to all constraint, that my Masters could never prevail on me, by any perswasions or encouragements, to learn without Book the common rules of Grammar, in which they dispensed with me alone, because they found I made a shift to do the usual exercise out of my own reading and observation. That I was then of the same mind as I am now (which I confess, I wonder at my self) may appear by the latter end of an Ode, which I made when I was but thirteen years old, and which was then printed with many other Verses.

The Beginning of it is Boyish, but of this part which I here set down (if a very little were corrected) I should hardly now be much ashamed.

9.

This only grant me, that my means may lye Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.

Some Honor I would have Not from great deeds, but good alone.

The unknown are better than ill known.

Rumour can ope' the Grave, Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends Not on the number, but the choice of Friends.

10.

Books should, not business, entertain the Light, And sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.

My House a Cottage, more Then Palace, and should fitting be For all my Use, no Luxury.