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sold a single copy. Shall I send a copy to your lordship's house?"

"I will take one along."

The earl left, and his delight increased with every page he read. He communicated his discovery to Dryden, the poet, who lived at the court of Charles II., and was generally considered the greatest poet of his time, from whose imperfections, it is true, he did not keep himself entirely free, although he pursued a more praiseworthy course than most of the contemporary authors. Like Milton, John Dryden had been an ardent adherent of the republic during the time of the commonwealth, and had sung hymns in honor of Cromwell. When monarchy was restored, he went over with the tuneful throng to welcome in Charles II., and some time afterward he was appointed poet-laureate. During the reign of James II. be embraced the Roman Catholic faith. In direct contrast with Milton, he distinguished himself by his want of principle; nevertheless, he had remained enough of a poet to fully appreciate the vast importance and the extraordinary beauties of "Paradise Lost." After reading the book, he was asked by the Earl of Dorset what he thought of it.

"This man," he said, in a tone of admiration, not entirely devoid of envy, "eclipses us all, and the ancients also."

"You should at least devote your attention to the drama," advised Dryden, kindly; "the stage holds out to you far better prospects than the book-trade."

"If the stage is to fulfil its exalted task," replied Milton, "and be a school of life, it needs freedom before every thing else. At present the theatre only serves to amuse aristocratic rakes and the low rabble, who digest there comfortably, and desire to be diverted by the obscene jests of the actors. Rather than stoop to write such things, I would starve to death. The drama, that noblest blossom of art, is affected by the general corruption and decay; and no poet, however talented he may be, can restore it to its purity unless a change should take place in our whole moral and political atmosphere. The putrid sap circulating in the trunk produces rotten fruits; only a healthy people and a moral age can possess a true and great drama."

On receiving this reply, Dryden took his leave, somewhat irritated and offended. When he complained of Milton to Davenant, the latter burst into laughter.

"My friend," said the merry poet, "you must not wonder at this reply. Milton is like an oak, which is bent neither by the violent storm nor by the gentle zephyr. On seeing him, I always feel as if I behold one of the old prophets, predicting the doom of Jerusalem or Babylon! Allow him this harmless pleasure, and come with me and drink a glass of malmsey. At all events, we cannot change

Afterward he sought an opportunity to get acquainted with Milton, of whom he begged permission to dramatize "Paradise Lost." He also offered his protection at court to the blind poet, whose pecuniary circumstances the world." were then by no means brilliant.

"The

"I am obliged to you," said Milton. court is not a proper sphere for me. In my opinion, a poet must be free above all things, and he cannot be free when his Muse is in the service of a prince. I value my independent poverty much higher than all the splendor which I might purchase at the expense of my convictions."

CHAPTER XIV.

ENGLAND UNDER CHARLES II.-OLD HENDERSON'S INSURRECTION.

MILTON thus lived in an age of general corruption, one of the few men of that period who remained faithful to their convictions, and

orators as were still to be feared. The persecution of the republicans was carried on as vindictively as ever; the triumphant party had not yet satiated its resentment, although it had already shed rivers of blood to avenge the execution of Charles I. The enthusiastic Harrison, and the younger Vane, one of the most eminent men of his time, suffered death for their convictions. Milton wept over the premature end of his friend, to whom he was chiefly indebted for his appointment to the secretaryship, and for whose talents and fer

whose names were unsullied by venality and | bought up the votes of such parliamentary apostasy. The court had become the centre of the most disgraceful licentiousness. Amusement succeeded to amusement-now a play, represented in the most lavish and extravagant manner; and now a ball, resplendent with flowers, lights, and frail beauties, or a teaparty, still at that time a rare and expensive entertainment. Splendid masquerades, at which the ladies appeared in the most transparent and lascivious costumes, alternated with ballets and concerts, which Saint-Evremond and the Duchess de Mazarin had brought over from France and rendered fashionable invent zeal he entertained the highest respect. England. Charles occupied himself with feeding his dogs and ducks, or was present at cock-fights and bear-baitings, while the bloodthirsty Duke of York never failed to be present at the executions, feasting his eyes on the agony of the Puritans and republicans who were put to death. To this laxity of morals corresponded the evident decline of the national character; skepticism and indifference took the place of the fanaticism and enthusiasm which only a short time since had reigned in England. A vain, flippant literature, to which not wit, but depth of principle and conviction, was wanting, supplanted the manly, bold poetry and courageous prose of the past. Instead of the intrepid spirit of investigation, with which England had formerly ventured to enter upon the solution of the most important questions, only frivolous subjects were treated of, and French patterns were copied in a manner alike servile and superficial. The great and eternal principles, for which, during the Revolution, the most eminent men had entered the lists, seemed to be forever forgotten and relinquished; freedom of thought, of conscience, and of speech, reform of parliamentary elections, and improvement of public instruction, were stifled, and silence was imposed on their friends and advocates. The press groaned under new fetters, and bribery

Profound grief gnawed at the poet's heart, and his soul revolted at this high-handed act of injustice and tyranny. He himself was poor, infirm, and blind; forsaken by nearly everybody, and deeply afflicted by the ingratitude of his own children. Weary of life, he tottered through the streets of London, holding the hand of a boy who was employed to guide his steps. A crowd was gathered at the corner. There stood a man with a livid face and wan, hollow cheeks. Covered with rags, he held in his hand a broom, which he brandished in the air. It was the visionary Harrington, the author of that Utopian work "Oceana.” Banished to a desert island without a lawful trial, he had gone mad. The sufferings endured in his captivity impaired his intellectual faculties, and he sank into incurable insanity.

"What!" cried the maniac, brandishing his broom in the air. "What! you will not vanish, devouring thoughts? There they are coming again, chirping and humming like little birds and bees. How they sing and whistle, buzz and croak! Begone! Let me alone with your horrible cries! I have fed you on my life-blood, and you have feasted on it until I became a mere skeleton; and you are not yet satisfied! Air! air! The vapor stifles me. It smells of corpses; my thoughts are the worms creeping out of my petrified brain. A

plague upon the vermin devouring an honest | years. Such persecutions and cruelties could man while he is still alive! Oh, would I had not but drive the republicans to despair; but never thought, never thought!" their courage was gone, and they lacked, above all things, a sagacious and prudent leader. Isolated insurrections, which broke out from time to time, were speedily suppressed.

Such were the wails and ravings of the madman, who, with his broom, incessantly sought to dispel his thoughts, which seemed to him to be flying about him in the shape of little birds and insects. A large crowd surrounded him, and brutally derided the poor man, whom his sister accompanied, and vainly sought to draw from the spot. Milton approached her in profound emotion, as he had formerly been intimately acquainted with Har-archy and the New Jerusalem. But when rington.

"Poor friend," he said to the maniac, in a tremulous voice, “do you not know me?"

On hearing Milton's voice, Harrington gave a start; his eyes beamed strangely, and his reason seemed to return for a moment.

"You?" asked the maniac. Why should I not know you? You are also dead and a corpse. Every thing is dead-the republic, liberty, the protector, and the king! The grave swallows us all; we then moulder, and new thoughts arise from our putrefying remains. There they are! Do you not see them? As yet they are as small as gnats; but they are constantly growing larger and larger, until | they become eagles, and soar to the sun. Ah, how unfortunate we two are for having thought too much! Thinking brings misfortune upon us, and may drive a sensible man to the verge of insanity. Beware-beware!"

Profoundly moved by this heart-rending spectacle, Milton went away; and at a distance he still heard the cries of the maniac, "Why did we think, think?"

Not less deplorable was the fate which befell Milton's most faithful friend, Major Overton. Although he kept perfectly quiet when monarchy was restored, yet the mere reputation of his love of liberty sufficed to make him suspected. He was likewise imprisoned without a trial, and kept in a dungeon for long, long

After Cromwell's death, old Henderson had returned to England. In vain did his former foster-daughter Lucy, and her husband, who were now living again at Ludlow Castle, offer him an asylum; he preferred to wait with his political friends for the rise of the fifth mon

monarchy was restored, and the Puritans and other dissenters were persecuted with extreme rigor, Henderson joined a band of similar fanatics who intended to establish the kingdom of God sword in hand. Although they were only sixty strong, these madmen undertook to overthrow the king and carry their hair-brained plans into execution; they thought themselves invincible.

"It is not numbers," said the Puritan, at a meeting of the fanatics, "but our faith, that will enable us to achieve a brilliant victory. The Saviour Himself will be our leader, and render our arms strong and our bodies invulnerable. Therefore, never fear the odds of our enemies. Even though their number were legion, we should vanquish them; for the Lord is with us. He beckons, and they are annihilated; He commands, and they disappear like chaff before the wind. Who can withstand His people, or injure the elect? Onward! The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!"

Such was the battle-cry with which the fanatics rushed, sword in hand, into the street; every one fled before the infuriated men. Among the fugitives was Billy Green, who hurriedly tried to escape. Henderson had recognized the hateful spy, and pursued him at a furious rate.

"Stand and surrender, son of Belial!" he shouted to him.

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Seized with indescribable terror, the villain | mand. If you will let me go, I will communi rushed toward the nearest house, where he cate an important secret to you. The Duke thought he would find an asylum. Already of York has embraced the Catholic faith, and he had reached the door, and knocked loudly a French priest privately reads mass to King for admittance, when the Puritan's sinewy Charles II. I know a great many other things, hand seized him by the neck. and will tell you all if you will let me go."

"The judgment of the Lord," cried Henderson, savagely, "shall overtake all sinners! Confess your sins, villain, for your soul is as black as that of the evil one."

"Mercy!" gasped Billy, while the fanatic's hand clutched his throat so violently that his small, cunning eyes protruded from their sockets. "I am innocent, and never wronged you in my life."

"You are innocent? Then Satan in hell is a saint! Have you not always served vice and infamy? Have you not been the boon companion of the most black-hearted scoundrels? You see, I am not ignorant of your character. You have deserved death a hundred times, because you have always been an impudent, Heaven-defying reprobate. Did you not strut about in heathenish costumes, an abomination in the eyes of the just? Did you not serve the tyrant who, on account of his sins, lost his head on the block?"

"I perceived the error of my ways, and if Mr. Pym were still alive, he would bear witness to the zeal with which I afterward served the cause of the republicans."

"Miserable hypocrite! For the sake of filthy lucre, you were intent, under the mask of a saint, a wolf in sheep's clothing, only on promoting your own interests. Did you not turn your back on us as soon as young Stuart returned to England? You were his pointer, and helped him to pursue the noble game of the pious Puritans. On your head is the blood of the martyrs, which cries to heaven for vengeance."

"Mercy!" groaned the unfortunate spy. "I will make amends for all the wrongs that I have perpetrated; I will do all that you de

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In his anguish, Billy Green had clasped the Puritan's knees, and lay writhing at his feet, while Henderson was brandishing his sword over his head.

"Down with the traitor!" shouted the infuriated fanatic, and his flashing sword cleft the spy's skull. Billy Green died without uttering a groan, while Henderson coolly turned from him.

"The Lord has judged him," he said, pushing aside the corpse, whose glazed eyes stared after him.

At the head of his men, he marched triumphantly from street to street, proclaiming the kingdom of Jesus, the invisible leader of this pious and devout insurrection. The authori ties attempted to disperse the insurgents by main force, but the assailants were driven back by the irresistible valor of the fanatics, who defended themselves with the most heroic intrepidity. Many a member of the militia was killed or wounded by them, until the whole force that had been sent to disperse them, seized with a panic, took to flight, although its numerical strength was perhaps ten times superior to that of the insurgents.

No sooner had the militia fled, than old Henderson intoned a triumphant hymn. Baring his gray head, and brandishing his blood-stained sword, he sang exultingly :

"Great is the Lord, and they who trust in Him will be invincible. The enemies approached in countless strength, like locusts descending on a harvest-field; and yet we did not succumb, for He is our shield. We struck them, and they sank to the ground; with the keen edges of our swords we mowed them down like stubble. The Lord be praised, the

God of Israel, who does not suffer His people | ants, they advanced again and attacked the to perish in distress. Sing to Him, and give intrepid enthusiasts on all sides. praise to His glory!"

Singing a psalm, as they had done at Dunbar and Worcester on rushing upon the enemy, the enthusiastic Puritans marched through all London without meeting with any serious resistance, so great was the cowardice of their adversaries, and their own confidence in divine assistance. They firmly believed in the triumph of their cause, and expected every moment the appearance of the Saviour, whom they proclaimed King of the world. It was not until the following morning, when the danger grew more and more alarming, that the royal guards were sent against the fanatics, who had retired in good order and taken position in a remote part of the city. From thence they made several sallies into the old city of London, which was nowise prepared for their attacks. They produced there not a little confusion, and the wealthy merchants believed that the turbulent times of the commonwealth had returned, and left in timid haste their counting-houses and the riches stored in their warehouses. Finally, assailed from all quarters, and hemmed in, the fanatics threw themselves into a neighboring house, where the troops were obliged to enter upon a regular siege against them. Their ranks were fearfully thinned by the volleys of the soldiers, and at last only a few of them were left. In vain quarter was offered to them if they would surrender voluntarily. In their fanatical faith in divine assistance, they rejected all the offers of their adversaries.

"Stand firm," cried old Henderson; "the Lord cannot and will not forsake His people. Follow me, and nobody shall hurt a hair of your heads."

The small band, headed by the Puritan, rushed unhesitatingly upon the troops. The soldiers at first fell back in dismay; but on perceiving the small number of their assail

"In the Saviour's name," shouted Henderson to his men," do not budge an inch! This is our last trial, and he who shall pass through it will enter heaven and the new Jerusalem." A bullet pierced his breast and struck him down. Already darkness veiled his eyes.

"Do you see?" murmured the mortally wounded Puritan. "The day is ours. The gates are unlocked, heaven opens to us, and the Saviour descends from it. Legions of saints, martyrs, and angels, surround Him; they lift me up and carry me to heaven. Already I am floating in their midst. Ha, give me my sword! There stands the evil one, the archfiend of mankind! I will—”

He did not conclude. In his last struggle he still convulsively grasped the hilt of his sword as if to redeem the world at a blow. And thus the fanatic departed this life. Most of his men were killed; only a few surrendered, and were ignominiously executed on the scaffold.

Not far from Henderson lay Billy Green's mutilated corpse: the stern, consistent Puritan, and the unprincipled, fickle apostate; both productions of the same stormy commotion which carries virtue as well as vice to a colossal development, far overstepping the ordinary bounds of human nature.

Such was the last flicker, the last desperate attempt of a party which, at first persecuted and oppressed, had gradually risen to almost absolute power, which it was to wield only for a very short time. The Puritans did not venture upon another rising, and left the field to others, who afterward entered the list for liberty, and, during the reign of James II., achieved the final victory over despotism.

Milton shared the principles and aspirations of these political and religious fanatics only so long as they themselves groaned under the grinding yoke of their oppressors, and met

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