Chapter II (3)

The Dutch Lord-Ambassador Nieuport, after having been absent in Holland since November 1657, had been sent back by their High Mightinesses, the States-General, to resume his post. The complication of affairs in northern Europe by the movements of Charles Gustavus, and the menacing attitude of that King not only pretty generally all round the Baltic, but also towards the Dutch themselves, had rendered Nieuport's renewed presence in London very necessary. Newly commissioned and instructed, he made his voyage, and was in the Thames on the night of the 23rd of July, though too late to reach Gravesend that night. The arrival of an ambassador being then an affair of much punctilio, he sent his son up the river in a shallop, to inform Mr. Secretary Thurloe and Sir Oliver Fleming, the master of the ceremonies, and to deliver to Thurloe a letter requesting that the pomp of a public reception might be waived and he might be permitted to take up his quarters quietly in the Dutch Embassy, still furnished and ready, just as he had left it. Young Mynheer Nieuport, coming to London on this errand, found things there in unexpected confusion,--the Lord Protector at Hampton Court, attending the death-bed of his daughter Lady Claypole, and leaving business to itself, and Secretary Thurloe also out of town. Fortunately, Thurloe was not then at Hampton Court, but only at his own country-house two miles off. Thither young Nieuport rode at once. He met Thurloe coming in his coach to Whitehall; whereupon Thurloe, after all proper salutations, informed him that his Highness had already heard of his father's arrival and had given orders for his suitable reception. Meanwhile, would young Mr. Nieuport come into the coach, so that they might drive back to Whitehall together? Arrived at Whitehall, Thurloe immediately gave orders for the preparation of one of his Highness's barges to be sent down to Gravesend, "with a gentleman called Marvell, who is employed in the despatches for the Latin tongue." Apparently this gentleman was on the spot, and was at once introduced by Thurloe to young Nieuport. Then young Nieuport went down the river by himself, rejoining his father at Gravesend, and bringing him a letter from Thurloe, to the effect that his Highness was very anxious that his reception should be in all points such as became the respect due to himself and his office, but that Mr. Marvell would come expressly to discuss and arrange particulars and that whatever Lord Nieuport should finally judge fitting should also be satisfactory to his Highness. That was on the night of Saturday, the 24th. Next day, Sunday the 25th, Marvell was duly down at Gravesend in the barge, actually before morning-sermon, as the Ambassador himself informs us, bidding the Ambassador formally welcome in the Lord Protector's name, and sketching out for him "a public reception, with barges and coaches, and also an entertainment, such as is usually given to the chiefest Ambassadors." Lord Nieuport still preferring less bustle on his own account, and thinking also that a great public reception would be unseemly at a time when "the Lord Protector and the whole Court were in great sadness for the mortal distemper of the Lady Claypole," Marvell remained in waiting on him at Gravesend that day, and in the night brought him up to town in his barge _incognito_. It was thought that his Highness might possibly be able to come from Hampton Court to Whitehall the next day or the next; but, that chance having passed, it was arranged that the Ambassador should himself go to Hampton Court, and have an audience with the Protector at three o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday the 29th. Accordingly, at eleven o'clock on that day the master of the ceremonies was at the Dutch Embassy, with three six-horse coaches; and, having been driven to Hampton Court, the Ambassador was received by Thurloe "at the second gate of the first court," and taken to his Highness's room. After interchange of compliments, his Highness expressed his regret "that his own indisposition, and other domestic inconveniencies, had hindered him from coming to London"; and then, the general company having been dismissed, and only Lord President Lawrence, Lord Strickland, and Thurloe, remaining in the room, there was some talk on business. Various matters were mentioned, but only generally, Nieuport not thinking it fit to trouble his Highness with "a large discourse," and his Highness indeed intimating that he did not find himself well enough to talk much. But all was very amicable, and at the end of the interview Cromwell, saying he hoped to be in London next week, insisted on conducting the Ambassador to the door of the antechamber, leaving Lawrence, Strickland, and Thurloe, to do the rest by attending him through the galleries back to the coaches. On that same day there had been a Council-meeting at Hampton Court, the last at which Cromwell was present. Possibly Dutch business was discussed there, and also at the next meeting of Council, which was at Whitehall on the 3rd of August, and without Cromwell. On the 5th, at all events, when the Council again met at Hampton Court, Cromwell not present, there was, as we have seen (ante, p. 355), a minute on Dutch business of a very ominous character. Cromwell's heart was now with the magnanimous Swede rather than with the merchandizing Dutch; and, in all probability, had he lived longer, Ambassador Nieuport would have had to send home news that might not have been pleasant to their High Mightinesses. But the next day (August 6) Lady Claypole was dead; and from that day, through the remaining four weeks of Cromwell's life, the concerns of the foreign world grew dimmer and dimmer in his regards. Perhaps to the last moment of his consciousness what did most interest him in that foreign world was the great new commotion round the Baltic in which his Swedish brother was the central figure, and in which both the Dutch and the Brandenburg Elector were playing anti-Swedish parts, the Elector avowedly, the Dutch more warily, "The King of Sweden hath again invaded the Dane, and very probably hath Copenhagen by this time," wrote Thurloe from Whitehall to Henry Cromwell at two o'clock in the morning of August 27. Cromwell, therefore, had learnt that fact before his death, and it must have mingled with his thoughts in his dying hours. In these very hours, we find, not only was Ambassador Nieuport close at hand again, for Dutch negotiations in which the fact would naturally be of high moment, but Herr. Schlezer also, the London agent of the Brandenburg Elector, was at the doors of the Council office, with express letters from the Elector, which he was anxious to deliver to Thurloe himself, in case even at such a time some answer might be elicited. Thurloe choosing to be inaccessible, he had left the letters with Mr. Marvell. Thus, twice in the last weeks of Oliver's Protectorate we have a distinct sight of Marvell in his capacity of substitute for Milton. He barges down the Thames very early on a Sunday morning to salute an Ambassador in the name of the Protector and bring him up to town in a proper manner; and he receives in the Whitehall office a troublesome diplomatic agent, who has come with important despatches.[1]

[Footnote 1: Thurloe, VII 286 and 298-299 (Letters of Nieuport to the States-General), 362 (Letter of Thurloe to Henry Cromwell), and 373-374 (Latin letter of Schlezer to Thurloe, two days after Cromwell's death).]

Thirty-three Latin State-Letters and five Latin Familiar Epistles are the productions of Milton's pen we have hitherto registered as belonging to the Second Protectorate of Oliver. Two or three incidents, appertaining more properly to his Literary Biography, have yet to be noticed before we leave the period.

Here is the title of a little foreign tract of which I have seen a solitary, and perhaps unique, copy:-"_Dissertationis ad quoedam loca Miltoni Pars Posterior; quam, adspirante Deo, Præsids Dn. Jacobo Schallero, S.S, Theol. Doct, et Philos. Pract. Prof., ad. h.t. Facult. Phil. Decano, solenniter defendet die[17] mens. Septemb. Christophorus Güntzer, Argentorat. Argentorati, Typis Friderici Spoor, 1657_" ("Second Part of a Dissertation, on certain Passages of Milton; which, with God's favour, and tinder the presidency of James Schaller, Doctor of Divinity and Professor of Practical Philosophy, acting as Dean of the Faculty of Philosophy for the occasion, Christopher Güntzer of Strasburg will solemnly defend on the 17th of September. Strasburg, Printed by Frederic Spoor, 1657"). Of the Schaller here mentioned we have heard before in connexion with a publication of his in 1653, also entitled _Dissertatio ad loca quædam Miltoni_, and appended then to certain _Exercitationes_ concerning the English Regicide by the Leipsic jurist Caspar Ziegler (Vol. IV. pp. 534-535). He seems to have retained an interest in the subject, and to have kept it up among those about him; for here, four years after his own Dissertation, he is to preside at the academic defence of another on the same subject by a Christopher Güntzer, who was probably one of his pupils. Young Güntzer, it seems, had been trying his hand on the subject already; for this is but the "second part" of his performance. The "first part" I have not seen, though it seems to have been published. The "second part" is a thin quarto, paged 45-92, as if to be bound with the first. It is in a juvenile and dry style of quotation and academic reasoning, modelled after Schaller's older Dissertation, and not worth an abstract. More interesting than itself are eleven pieces of congratulatory Latin verse prefixed to it by college friends of the disputant. In more than one of these Milton is mentioned; but the liveliest mention of him is in a set of Phalæcians signed "Christianus Keck." Phalæcians are not to be attempted in English; but, as the semi-absurd relish of the thing would be lost in prose, the first few lines may run into a kind of equivalent doggrel:--

"What Salmasius, he whom all men hailed as
Learning's prodigy, Phoenix much too big for
His own late generation, ay or any old one,
Wrote so bravely against the sin of Britain,
Then all wet with the royal bloodshed in her,
Milton answered with pen that, be it granted,
Showed vast genius, nor a mind without some
Real marks of artistic cultivation,
Though, O shame! patronizing such an outrage.
Milton's pen is refuted next by Schaller's,--
Quite a different pen and more respected."

Young Keck then goes on to assure his fellow-students that, if their eminent Professor Schaller's Dissertation of 1653 in reply to Milton had been duly read and pondered in Great Britain, it would have been of far more use towards a restoration of the Stuarts than camps and cannon; and he ends by congratulating the world on the fact that now young Güntzer, the accomplished young Güntzer, has placed himself by the side of the learned Professor, to wave the same inextinguishable torch of truth.[1]--In all probability, Milton never heard of such a trifle. It illustrates, however, the kind of rumour of himself and his writings that was circling, in the year 1657, in holes and corners of German Universities. Strasburg, with Elsatz generally, was then within the dominions of Austria; and it was naturally less in Austrian Germany than in other parts of the Continent that there was that especial admiration of Milton which had been growing since the publication of his _Defensio Prima_, but which, as Aubrey tells us, had reached its height under the Protectorate. "He was mightily importuned," says Aubrey, "to go into France and Italy. Foreigners came much to see him, and much admired him, and offered to him great preferments to come over to them; and the only inducement of several foreigners that came over into England was chiefly to see O. Protector and Mr. J. Milton; and [they] would see the house and chamber where he was born. He was much more admired abroad than at home." This corresponds with all our own evidence hitherto, though we have heard nothing of those invitations and offers of foreign preferment of which Aubrey speaks.

[Footnote 1: The copy I have seen of Güntzer's _Dissertatio_ is in the British Museum Library. The figure "17" is inserted in MS. after the word "_die_" in the title-page.]

In May 1658, three or four months before Cromwell's death, there was published in London a little volume of about 200 pages, with this title-page: "_The Cabinet Council; Containing the chief Arts of Empire, and Mysteries of State; Discabineted in Political and Polemical Aphorisms, grounded, on Authority, and Experience; And illustrated with the choicest Examples and Historical Observations. By the Ever-renowned Knight, Sir Walter Raleigh, published by John Milton Esq._-Quis Martem tunicâ tectum Adamantinâ digne scripserit?-_London, Printed by Tho. Newcomb for Tho. Johnson at the sign of the Key in St. Pauls Churchyard, near the West-end, 1658."_ Prefixed to the body of the volume, which is divided into twenty-six chapters, is a note "_To the Reader,"_ as follows: "Having had the manuscript of this Treatise, written by Sir Walter Raleigh, many years in my hands, and finding it lately by chance among other books and papers, upon reading thereof I thought it a kind of injury to withhold longer the work of so eminent an author from the public: it being both answerable in style to other works of his already extant, as far as the subject would permit, and given me for a true copy by a learned man at his death, who had collected several such pieces.-JOHN MILTON."[1]

[Footnote 1: There were subsequent reprints of Raleigh's _Cabinet Council_ from this 1658 edition by Milton, with changes of title. See Bohn's Lowndes under _Raleigh_]

By far the most interesting fact, however, in Milton's literary life under the Second Protectorate is that he had certainly, before its close, resumed his design of a great English poem, to be called Paradise Lost. Phillips's words might even imply that he had resumed this design before the end of the First Protectorate. For, after having mentioned that, in the comparative leisure in which he was left by the conclusion of his controversy with Morus (Aug. 1655), he resumed those two favourite hack-occupations on which he always fell back when he had nothing else to do,--his History of England and his compilations for a Latin Dictionary,--Phillips adds, "But the highth of his noble fancy and invention began now to be seriously and mainly employed in a subject worthy of such a muse: viz. a Heroic Poem, entitled _Paradise Lost_, the noblest," &c. In this passage, however, Phillips is throwing together, in 1694, all his recollections of the four years of his uncle's life between Aug. 1655 and Aug. 1659; and Aubrey's earlier information (1680), originally derived from Phillips himself, is that _Paradise Lost_ was begun "about two years before the King came in," i.e. about May 1658. This would fix the date somewhere in the two or three months immediately following the death-of Milton's second wife. In such a matter exact certainty is unattainable; and it is enough to know for certain that the resumption of _Paradise Lost_ was an event of the latter part of Cromwell's Second Protectorate, and that some portion of the poem was actually written in the house in Petty France, Westminster, while Milton was in communication with Cromwell and writing letters for him. In the rooms of that house, or in the garden that stretched from the house into St. James's Park across part of what is now the ground of Wellington Barracks, the subject of the epic first took distinct shape in Milton's mind, and here he began the great dictation.

Eighteen years had elapsed since Milton, just settled in London after his return from Italy, had first fastened on the subject, preferred it by a sure instinct to all the others that occurred in competition with it, and sketched four plans for its treatment in the form of a sacred tragedy, one with the precise title _Paradise Lost_, and another with the title _Adam Unparadised_ (Vol. II. pp. 106-108, and 115-119). Through all the distractions of those eighteen years the grand subject had not ceased to haunt him, nor the longing to return to it and to his poetic vocation. Nay there had hung in his memory all this while certain lines he had actually written and destined for the opening of the intended tragedy. They were the ten lines that now form lines 32-41 of the fourth book of our present _Paradise Lost_. He had imagined, for the opening of his tragedy, Satan already arrived within our Universe out of Hell, and alighted on our central Earth near Eden, and gazing up to Heaven and the Sun blazing there in meridian splendour. He had imagined Satan, in this pause of his first advent into the Universe he was to ruin, thus addressing the Sun as its chief visible representative:--

"O thou that with surpassing glory crowned,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god
Of this new World,--at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads,--to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere,
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,
Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King!"

And now, after eighteen years, the poem having been resumed, but with the resolution, made natural by Milton's literary observations and experiences in the interval, that the dramatic form should be abandoned and the epic substituted, these ten lines, written originally for the opening of the Drama, were to be the nucleus of the Epic.[1] With our present _Paradise Lost_ before us, we can see the very process of the gradual reinvention. In the epic Satan must not appear, as had been proposed in the drama, at once on our earth or within our universe. He must be fetched from the transcendental regions, the vast extra-mundane spaces, of his own prior existence and history. And so, round our fair universe, newly-created and wheeling softly on its axle, conscious as yet of no evil, conscious only of the happy earth and sweet human life in the midst, and of the steady diurnal change from day and light-blue sunshine into spangled and deep-blue night, Milton was figuring and mapping out those other infinitudes which outlay and encircled his conception of all this mere Mundane Creation. Deep down beneath this MUNDANE CREATION, and far separated from it, he was seeing the HELL from which was to come its woe; all round the Mundane Creation, and surging everywhere against its outmost firmament, was the dark and turbid CHAOS out of which its orderly and orbicular immensity had been cut; and high over all, radiant above Chaos, but with the Mundane Universe pendent from it at one gleaming point, was the great EMPYREAN or HEAVEN of HEAVENS, the abode of Angels and of Eternal Godhead. Not to the mere Earth of Man or the Mundane Universe about that Earth was Milton's adventurous song now to be confined, representing only dramatically by means of speeches and choruses those transactions in the three extramundane Infinitudes that might bear on the terrestrial story. It must dare also into those infinitudes themselves, pursue among them the vaster and more general story of Satan's rebellion and fall, and yet make all converge, through Satan's scheme in Hell and his advent at last into our World, upon that one catastrophe of the ruin of infant Mankind which the title of the poem proclaimed as the particular theme.

[Footnote 1: Phillips's words in quoting these lines are, "In the Fourth Book of the Poem there are six [he says _six_, but quotes all the _ten_] verses which, several years before the Poem was begun, were shown to me and some others as designed for the very beginning of the said Tragedy." These words, if the Epic was begun in 1658, might carry us back at farthest to about 1650 as the date when the ten lines were in existence; but, besides that Phillips's expression is vague, we have Aubrey's words in 1680 as follows:--"In the [4th] Book of _Paradise Lost_ there are about six verses of Satan's exclamation to the Sun which Mr. E. Phi. remembers about fifteen or sixteen years before ever his Poem was thought of; which verses were intended for the beginning of a Tragoedie, which he had designed, but was diverted from it by other business." This, on Phillips's own authority, would take the lines back to 1642 or 1643; and that, on independent grounds, is the probable date. Hardly after 1642 or 1643 can Milton have adhered to his original intention of writing _Paradise Lost_ in a dramatic form.]

"Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse"--

Such might be the simple invocation at the outset; but, knowing now all that the epic was really to involve, and how far it was to carry him in flight above the Aonian Mount, little wonder that he could already promise in it

"Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme."

It may have been in one of the nights following a day of such meditation of the great subject he had resumed, and some considerable instalment of the actual verse of the poem as we now have it may have been already on paper, or in Milton's memory for repetition to himself, when he dreamt a memorable dream. The house is all still, the voices and the pattering feet of the children hushed in sleep, and Milton too asleep, but with his waking thoughts pursuing him into sleep and stirring the mimic fancy. Not this night, however, is it of Heaven, or Hell, or Chaos, or the Universe of Man with its luminaries, or any other of the objects of his poetic contemplation by day, that dreaming images come. Nor yet is it the recollection of any business, Piedmontese, Swedish, or French, last employing him officially, that now passes into his involuntary visions. His mind is wholly back on himself, his hard fate of blindness, and his again vacant and desolate household. But lo! as he dreams, that seems somehow all a mistake, and the household is _not_ desolate. A radiant figure, clothed in white, approaches him and bends over him. He knows it to be his wife, whom he had thought dead, but who is not dead. Her face is veiled, and he cannot see that; but then he had never seen that, and it was not so he could distinguish her. It was by the radiant, saintlike, sweetness of her general presence. That is again beside him and bending over him, the same as ever; and it was certainly she! So for the few happy moments while the dream lasts; but he awakes, and the spell is broken. So dear has been that dream, however, that he will keep it as a sacred memory for himself in the last of all his Sonnets:--

"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."[1]

[Footnote 1: We do not know the exact date of this Sonnet; but the internal evidence decidedly is that it was written not very long after the second wife's death, and probably in 1658. The manuscript copy of it among the Milton MSS. at Cambridge is in the hand of a person who was certainly acting as amanuensis for Milton early in 1660 and afterwards.]