r of an account of Horton in the _Gentleman's Magazine_
for August, 1791, who speaks of Milton with veneration, and transcribes
his mother's epitaph, does not allude to the existence of his house. Its
site is traditionally identified with that of Berkyn Manor, near the
church, and an old pigeon-house is asserted to be a remnant of the
original building. The elder Milton was no doubt merely the tenant; his
landlord is said to have been the Earl of Bridgewater, but as there is
no evidence of the Earl having possessed property in Horton, the
statement may be merely an inference from Milton's poetical connection
with the family. If not Bridgewater, the landlord was probably
Bulstrode, the lord of the manor, and chief personage in the village.
The Miltons still kept a footing in the metropolis. Christopher Milton,
on his admission to the Inner Temple in September, 1632, is described as
second son of John Milton of London, and subsequent legal proceedings
disclose that the father, with the aid of his partner, was still doing
business as a scrivener in 1637. It may be guessed that the veteran cit
would not be sorry to find himself occasionally back in town. What with
social exclusiveness, political and religious controversy, and
uncongeniality of tastes, the Miltons' country circle of acquaintance
was probably narrow. After five years of country life the younger Milton
at all events thought seriously of taking refuge in an Inn of Court,
"wherever there is a pleasant and shady walk," and tells Diodati, "Where
I am now I live obscurely and in a cramped manner." He had only just
made the acquaintance of his distinguished neighbour, Sir Henry Wotton,
Provost of Eton, by the beginning of 1638, though it appears that he was
previously acquainted with John Hales.
Milton's five years at Horton were nevertheless the happiest of his
life. It must have been an unspeakable relief to him to be at length
emancipated from compulsory exercises, and to build up his mind without
nod or beck from any quarter. For these blessings he was chiefly
indebted to his father, whose industry and prudence had procured his
independence and his rural retirement, and whose tender indulgence and
noble confidence dispensed him from what most would have deemed the
reasonable condition that he should at least earn his own living. "I
will not," he exclaims to his father, "praise thee for thy fulfilment of
the ordinary duties of a parent, my debt is heavier (_me po
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