him; the only direct testimony
we have of her care of him is his verbal acknowledgment of her attention
to his creature comforts. Yet Aubrey's memoranda show that she could
talk with her husband about Hobbes, and she treasured the letters he had
received from distinguished foreigners. At the time of their marriage
Milton was living in Jewin Street, Aldersgate, from which he soon
afterwards removed to Artillery Walk, Bunhill Fields, his last
residence. He lodged in the interim with Millington, the book
auctioneer, a man of superior ability, whom an informant of Richardson's
had often met in the streets leading his inmate by the hand.

It is at this era of Milton's history that we obtain the fullest details
of his daily life, as being nearer to the recollection of those from
whom information was sought after his death. His household was larger
than might have been expected in his reduced circumstances; he had a
man-servant, Greene, and a maid, named Fisher. That true
hero-worshipper, Aubrey, tells us that he generally rose at four, and
was even then attended by his "man" who read to him out of the Hebrew
Bible. Such erudition in a serving-man almost surpasses credibility: the
English Bible probably sufficed both. It is easier to believe that some
one read to him or wrote for him from seven till dinner time: if,
however, "the writing was nearly as much as the reading," much that
Milton dictated must have been lost. His recreations were walking in his
garden, never wanting to any of his residences, where he would continue
for three or four hours at a time; swinging in a chair when weather
prevented open-air exercise; and music, that blissful resource of
blindness. His instrument was usually the organ, the counterpart of the
stately harmony of his own verse. To these relaxations must be added the
society of faithful friends, among whom Andrew Marvell, Dr. Paget, and
Cyriack Skinner are particularly named. Nor did Edward Phillips neglect
his uncle, finding him, as Aubrey implies, "most familiar and free in
his conversation to those to whom most sour in his way of education."
Milton had made him "a songster," and we can imagine the "sober, silent,
and most harmless person" (Evelyn) opening his lips to accompany his
uncle's music. Of Milton's manner Aubrey says, "Extreme pleasant in his
conversation, and at dinner, supper, etc., but satirical." Visitors
usually came from six till eight, if at all, and the day concluded with
a l