em. They naturally thought otherwise, and
threatened litigation. The interrogatories administered on this occasion
afford the best clue to the condition of Milton's affairs and household.
At length the dispute was compromised, the nuncupative will, a kind of
document always regarded with suspicion, was given up, and the widow
received two-thirds of the estate instead of the whole, probably the
fairest settlement that could have been arrived at. After residing some
years in London she retired to Nantwich in her native county, where
divers glimpses reveal her as leading the decent existence of a poor but
comfortable gentlewoman as late as August or September, 1727. The
inventory of her effects, amounting to L38 8s. 4d., is preserved, and
includes: "Mr. Milton's pictures and coat of arms, valued at ten
guineas;" and "two Books of Paradise," valued at ten shillings. Of the
daughters, Anne married "a master-builder," and died in childbirth some
time before 1678; Mary was dead when Phillips wrote in 1694; and Deborah
survived until August 24, 1727, dying within a few days of her
stepmother. She had married Abraham Clarke, a weaver and mercer in
Dublin, who took refuge in England during the Irish troubles under James
the Second, and carried on his business in Spitalfields. She had several
children by him, one of whom lived to receive, in 1750, the proceeds of
a theatrical benefit promoted by Bishop Newton and Samuel Johnson.
Deborah herself was brought into notice by Addison, and was visited by
Professor Ward of Gresham College, who found her "bearing the
inconveniences of a low fortune with decency and prudence." Her last
days were made comfortable by the generosity of Princess Caroline and
others: it is more pleasant still to know that her affection for her
father had revived. When shown Faithorne's crayon portrait (not the one
engraved in Milton's lifetime, but one exceedingly like it) she
exclaimed, "in a transport, ''Tis my dear father, I see him, 'tis him!'
and then she put her hands to several parts of her face, ''Tis the very
man, here! here!'"

* * * * *

Milton's character is one of the things which "securus judicat orbis
terrarum." On one point only there seems to us, as we have frequently
implied, to be room for modification. In the popular conception of
Milton the poet and the man are imperfectly combined. We allow his
greatness as a poet, but deny him the poetical temperament which