hat he regards the licensing ordinance as not really the
offspring of an honest though mistaken concern for religion and
morality, but as a device of Presbyterianism to restrain this outpouring
of the spirit and silence Independents as well as Royalists.
Presbyterianism had indeed been weighed in the balance and found
wanting, and Milton's pamphlet was the handwriting on the wall. The fine
gold must have become very dim ere a Puritan pen could bring itself to
indite that scathing satire on the "factor to whose care and credit the
wealthy man may commit the whole managing of his religious affairs; some
divine of note and estimation that must be. To him he adheres; resigns
the whole warehouse of his religion, with all the locks and keys into
his custody; and, indeed, makes the very person of that man his
religion--esteems his associating with him a sufficient evidence and
commendation of his own piety. So that a man may say his religion is now
no more within himself, but is become a dividual movable, and goes and
comes near him according as that good man frequents the house. He
entertains him, gives him gifts, feasts him, lodges him, his religion
comes home at night, prays, is liberally supped and sumptuously laid to
sleep, rises, is saluted; and after the malmsey or some well-spiced
brewage, and better breakfasted than He whose morning appetite would
have gladly fed on green figs between Bethany and Jerusalem, his
religion walks abroad at eight, and leaves his kind entertainer in the
shop, trading all day without his religion." This is a startling
passage. We should have pronounced hitherto that Milton's one hopeless,
congenital, irremediable want, alike in literature and in life, was
humour. And now, surely as ever Saul was among the prophets, behold
Milton among the wits.

CHAPTER IV.

Ranging with Milton's spirit over the "fresh woods and pastures new,"
foreshadowed in the closing verse of "Lycidas," we have left his mortal
part in its suburban dwelling in Aldersgate Street, which he seems to
have first inhabited shortly before the convocation of the Long
Parliament in November, 1640. His visible occupations are study and the
instruction of his nephews; by and by he becomes involved in the
revolutionary tempest that rages around; and, while living like a
pedagogue, is writing like a prophet. He is none the less cherishing
lofty projects for epic and drama; and we also learn from Phillips that
his society inc