e winter months of 1656-7 during which
the great topics of interest outside were the war with Spain,
Sindercombe's plot against the Protector's life, the debates in
Parliament over the case of James Nayler, and the proceedings there
for amending the system of the Protectorate, whether by converting it
into Kingship or otherwise. Not, however, till the last day of March
1656-7, or three months and a half after the marriage with Katharine
Woodcock, have we another distinct glimpse of Milton in his private
life. On that day he dictated, in Latin, the following letter:--

"To the most accomplished EMERIC BIGOT.

"That on your coming into England I had the honour of being thought
by you more worth visiting and saluting than others was truly and
naturally gratifying to me; and that now you renew your salutation
by letter, even at such an interval, is somewhat more gratifying
still. For in the first instance you might have come to me perhaps
on the inducement of other people's opinion; but you could hardly
return to me by letter save at the prompting of your own judgment,
or, at least, good will. On this surely I have ground to
congratulate myself. For many have made a figure by their published
writings whose living voice and daily conversation have presented
next to nothing that was not low and common: if, then, I can attain
the distinction of seeming myself equal in mind and manners to any
writings of mine that have been tolerably to the purpose, there
will be the double effect that I shall so have added weight
personally to my writings, and shall receive back by way of
reflection from them credit, how small soever it may be, yet
greater in proportion. For, in that case, whatever is right and
laudable in them, that same I shall seem not more to have derived
from authors of high excellence than to have fetched forth pure and
sincere from the inmost feelings of my own mind and soul. I am
glad, therefore, to know that you are assured of my tranquillity of
spirit in this great affliction of loss of sight, and also of the
pleasure I have in being civil and attentive in the reception of
visitors from abroad. Why, in truth, should I not bear gently the
deprivation of sight, when I may hope that it is not so much lost
as revoked and retracted inwards, for the sharpening rather than
the blunting of my mental edge? Whence it is that I neither think
of books with anger, nor qu