evil, the meed of glory by the loss of life; but that I might
procure great good by little suffering; that though I am
blind, I might still discharge the most honourable duties, the
performance of which, as it is something more durable than
glory, ought to be an object of superior admiration and
esteem; I resolved, therefore, to make the short interval of
sight, which was left me to enjoy, as beneficial as possible
to the public interest. Thus it is clear by what motives I was
governed in the measures which I took, and the losses which I
sustained. Let then the calumniators of the divine goodness
cease to revile, or to make me the object of their
superstitious imaginations. Let them consider, that my
situation, such as it is, is neither an object of my shame nor
my regret, that my resolutions are too firm to be shaken, that
I am not depressed by any sense of the divine displeasure;
that, on the other hand, in the most momentous periods, I have
had full experience of the divine favour and protection; and
that, in the solace and the strength which have been infused
into me from above, I have been enabled to do the will of God;
that I may oftener think on what he has bestowed, than on what
he has withheld; that, in short, I am unwilling to exchange my
consciousness of rectitude with that of any other person; and
that I feel the recollection a treasured store of tranquillity
and delight. But, if the choice were necessary, I would, sir,
prefer my blindness to yours; yours is a cloud spread over the
mind, which darkens both the light of reason and of
conscience; mine keeps from my view only the coloured surfaces
of things, while it leaves me at liberty to contemplate the
beauty and stability of virtue and of truth. How many things
are there besides which I would not willingly see; how many
which I must see against my will; and how few which I feel any
anxiety to see! There is, as the apostle has remarked, a way
to strength through weakness. Let me then be the most feeble
creature alive, as long as that feebleness serves to
invigorate the energies of my rational and immortal spirit; as
long as in that obscurity, in which I am enveloped, the light
of the divine presence more clearly shines, then, in
proportion as I am weak, I shall be invincibly strong; and in
proportion as I am blind, I shall more clearly see. Oh, that
I may thus be perfected by feebleness, and irradiated by
obscurity! And, indeed, in my blindness, I enjoy in no
inconsiderable degree the favour of the Deity, who regards me
with more tenderness and compassion in proportion as I am able
to behold nothing but himself. Alas! for him who insults me,
who maligns and merits public execration! For the divine law
not only shields me from injury, but almost renders me too
sacred to attack; not indeed so much from the privation of my
sight, as from the overshadowing of those heavenly wings which
seem to have occasioned this obscurity; and which, when
occasioned, he is wont to illuminate with an interior light,
more precious and more pure. To this I ascribe the more tender
assiduities of my friends, their soothing attentions, their
kind visits, their reverential observances; . . . This
extraordinary kindness which I experience, cannot be any
fortuitous combination; and friends, such as mine, do not
suppose that all the virtues of a man are contained in his
eyes. Nor do the persons of principal distinction in the
commonwealth suffer me to be bereaved of comfort, when they
see me bereaved of sight, amid the exertions which I made, the
zeal which I showed, and the dangers which I run for the
liberty which I love. But, soberly reflecting on the
casualties of human life, they show me favour and indulgence,
as to a soldier who has served his time, and kindly concede to
me an exemption from care and toil. They do not strip me of
the badges of honour which I have once worn; they do not
deprive me of the places of public trust to which I have been
appointed; they do not abridge my salary or emoluments; which,
though I may not do so much to deserve as I did formerly, they
are too considerate and too kind to take away; and, in short,
they honour me as much as the Athenians did those whom they
determined to support at the public expense in the Prytaneum.
Thus, while both God and man unite in solacing me under the
weight of my affliction, let no one lament my loss of sight
in so honourable a cause. And let me not indulge in unavailing
grief, or want the courage either to despise the revilers of
my blindness, or the forbearance easily to pardon the offence.
* * * * *
I must crave the indulgence of the reader if I have said
already, or shall say hereafter, more of myself than I wish to
say; that, if I cannot prevent the blindness of my eyes, the
oblivion or the defamation of my name, I may at least rescue
my life from that species of obscurity, which is the associate
of unprincipled depravity. This it will be necessary for me to
do on more accounts than one; first, that so many good and
learned men among the neighbouring nations, who read my works,
may not be induced by this fellow's calumnies to alter the
favourable opinion which they have formed of me; but may be
persuaded that I am not one who ever disgraced beauty of
sentiment by deformity of conduct, or the maxims of a freeman
by the actions of a slave; and that the whole tenor of my life
has, by the grace of God, hitherto been unsullied by enormity
or crime. Next, that those illustrious worthies, who are the
objects of my praise, may know that nothing could afflict me
with more shame than to have any vices of mine diminish the
force or lessen the value of my panegyric upon them; and,
lastly, that the people of England, whom fate, or duty, or
their own virtues, have incited me to defend, may be convinced
from the purity and integrity of my life, that my defence, if
it do not redound to their honour, can never be considered as
their disgrace. I will now mention who and whence I am. I was
born in London, of an honest family; my father was
distinguished by the undeviating integrity of his life; my
mother, by the esteem in which she was held, and the alms
which she bestowed. My father destined me from a child to the
pursuits of literature; and my appetite for knowledge was so
voracious, that, from twelve years of age, I hardly ever left
my studies, or went to bed before midnight. This primarily led
to my loss of sight. My eyes were naturally weak, and I was
subject to frequent headaches; which, however, could not chill
the ardour of my curiosity, or retard the progress of my
improvement. My father had me daily instructed in the
grammar-school, and by other masters at home. He then, after I
had acquired a proficiency in various languages, and had made
a considerable progress in philosophy, sent me to the
University of Cambridge. Here I passed seven years in the
usual course of instruction and study, with the approbation of
the good, and without any stain upon my character, till I took
the degree of Master of Arts. After this I did not, as this
miscreant feigns, run away into Italy, but of my own accord
retired to my father's house, whither I was accompanied by the
regrets of most of the fellows of the college, who showed me
no common marks of friendship and esteem. On my father's
estate, where he had determined to pass the remainder of his
days, I enjoyed an interval of uninterrupted leisure, which I
entirely devoted to the perusal of the Greek and Latin
classics; though I occasionally visited the metropolis, either
for the sake of purchasing books, or of learning something new
in mathematics or in music, in which I, at that time, found a
source of pleasure and amusement. In this manner I spent five
years till my mother's death. I then became anxious to visit
foreign parts, and particularly Italy. My father gave me his
permission, and I left home with one servant. On my departure,
the celebrated Henry Wotton, who had long been king James's
ambassador at Venice, gave me a signal proof of his regard, in
an elegant letter which he wrote, breathing not only the
warmest friendship, but containing some maxims of conduct
which I found very useful in my travels. The noble Thomas
Scudamore, king Charles's ambassador, to whom I carried
letters of recommendation, received me most courteously at
Paris. His lordship gave me a card of introduction to the
learned Hugo Grotius, at that time ambassador from the queen
of Sweden to the French court; whose acquaintance I anxiously
desired, and to whose house I was accompanied by some of his
lordship's friends. A few days after, when I set out for
Italy, he gave me letters to the English merchants on my
route, that they might show me any civilities in their power.
Taking ship at Nice, I arrived at Genoa, and afterwards
visited Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. In the latter city, which
I have always more particularly esteemed for the elegance of
its dialect, its genius, and its taste, I stopped about two
months; when I contracted an intimacy with many persons of
rank and learning; and was a constant attendant at their
literary parties; a practice which prevails there, and tends
so much to the diffusion of knowledge, and the preservation of
friendship. No time will ever abolish the agreeable
recollections which I cherish of Jacopo Gaddi, Carlo Dati,
Frescobaldi, Coltellini, Bonmattei, Chimentelli, Francini, and
many others. From Florence I went to Siena, thence to Rome,
where, after I had spent about two months in viewing the
antiquities of that renowned city, where I experienced the
most friendly attentions from Lucas Holstenius, and other
learned and ingenious men, I continued my route to Naples.
There I was introduced by a certain recluse, with whom I had
travelled from Rome, to Giovanni Battista Manso, marquis of
Villa, a nobleman of distinguished rank and authority, to whom
Torquato Tasso, the illustrious poet, inscribed his book on
friendship. During my stay, he gave me singular proofs of his
regard: he himself conducted me around the city, and to the
palace of the viceroy; and more than once paid me a visit at
my lodgings. On my departure he gravely apologized for not
having shown me more civility, which he said he had been
restrained from doing, because I had spoken with so little
reserve on matters of religion. When I was preparing to pass
over into Sicily and Greece, the melancholy intelligence which
I received of the civil commotions in England made me alter my
purpose; for I thought it base to be travelling for amusement
abroad, while my fellow-citizens were fighting for liberty at
home. While I was on my way back to Rome, some merchants
informed me that the English Jesuits had formed a plot against
me if I returned to Rome, because I had spoken too freely on
religion; for it was a rule which I laid down to myself in
those places, never to be the first to begin any conversation
on religion; but if any questions were put to me concerning my
faith, to declare it without any reserve or fear. I,
nevertheless, returned to Rome. I took no steps to conceal
either my person or my character; and for about the space of
two months I again openly defended, as I had done before, the
reformed religion in the very metropolis of popery. By the
favour of God, I got safe back to Florence, where I was
received with as much affection as if I had returned to my
native country. There I stopped as many months as I had done
before, except that I made an excursion for a few days to
Lucca; and, crossing the Apennines, passed through Bologna and
Ferrara to Venice. After I had spent a month in surveying the
curiosities of this city, and had put on board a ship the
books which I had collected in Italy, I proceeded through
Verona and Milan, and along the Leman lake to Geneva. The
mention of this city brings to my recollection the slandering
More, and makes me again call the Deity to witness, that in
all those places in which vice meets with so little
discouragement, and is practised with so little shame, I never
once deviated from the paths of integrity and virtue, and
perpetually reflected that, though my conduct might escape the
notice of men, it could not elude the inspection of God. At
Geneva I held daily conferences with John Diodati, the
learned professor of Theology. Then pursuing my former route
through France, I returned to my native country, after an
absence of one year and about three months; at the time when
Charles, having broken the peace, was renewing what is called
the episcopal war with the Scots, in which the royalists being
routed in the first encounter, and the English being
universally and justly disaffected, the necessity of his
affairs at last obliged him to convene a parliament. As soon
as I was able, I hired a spacious house in the city for myself
and my books; where I again with rapture renewed my literary
pursuits, and where I calmly awaited the issue of the contest,
which I trusted to the wise conduct of Providence, and to the
courage of the people. The vigour of the parliament had begun
to humble the pride of the bishops. As long as the liberty of
speech was no longer subject to control, all mouths began to
be opened against the bishops; some complained of the vices of
the individuals, others of those of the order. They said that
it was unjust that they alone should differ from the model of
other reformed churches; that the government of the church
should be according to the pattern of other churches, and
particularly the word of God. This awakened all my attention
and my zeal. I saw that a way was opening for the
establishment of real liberty; that the foundation was laying
for the deliverance of man from the yoke of slavery and
superstition; that the principles of religion, which were the
first objects of our care, would exert a salutary influence on
the manners and constitution of the republic; and as I had
from my youth studied the distinctions between religious and
civil rights, I perceived that if I ever wished to be of use,
I ought at least not to be wanting to my country, to the
church, and to so many of my fellow-Christians, in a crisis of
so much danger; I therefore determined to relinquish the other
pursuits in which I was engaged, and to transfer the whole
force of my talents and my industry to this one important
object. I accordingly wrote two books to a friend concerning
the reformation of the church of England. Afterwards, when two
bishops of superior distinction vindicated their privileges
against some principal ministers, I thought that on those
topics, to the consideration of which I was led solely by my
love of truth, and my reverence for Christianity, I should not
probably write worse than those who were contending only for
their own emoluments and usurpations. I therefore answered the
one in two books, of which the first is inscribed, Concerning
Prelatical Episcopacy, and the other Concerning the Mode of
Ecclesiastical Government; and I replied to the other in some
Animadversions, and soon after in an Apology. On this occasion
it was supposed that I brought a timely succour to the
ministers, who were hardly a match for the eloquence of their
opponents; and from that time I was actively employed in
refuting any answers that appeared. When the bishops could no
longer resist the multitude of their assailants, I had leisure
to turn my thoughts to other subjects; to the promotion of
real and substantial liberty; which is rather to be sought
from within than from without; and whose existence depends,
not so much on the terror of the sword, as on sobriety of
conduct and integrity of life. When, therefore, I perceived
that there were three species of liberty which are essential
to the happiness of social life—religious, domestic, and
civil; and as I had already written concerning the first, and
the magistrates were strenuously active in obtaining the
third, I determined to turn my attention to the second, or the
domestic species. As this seemed to involve three material
questions, the conditions of the conjugal tie, the education
of the children, and the free publication of the thoughts, I
made them objects of distinct consideration. I explained my
sentiments, not only concerning the solemnization of the
marriage, but the dissolution, if circumstances rendered it
necessary; and I drew my arguments from the divine law, which
Christ did not abolish, or publish another more grievous than
that of Moses. I stated my own opinions, and those of others,
concerning the exclusive exception of fornication, which our
illustrious Selden has since, in his Hebrew Wife, more
copiously discussed; for he in vain makes a vaunt of liberty
in the senate or in the forum, who languishes under the vilest
servitude, to an inferior at home. On this subject, therefore,
I published some books which were more particularly necessary
at that time, when man and wife were often the most inveterate
foes, when the man often staid to take care of his children at
home, while the mother of the family was seen in the camp of
the enemy, threatening death and destruction to her husband. I
then discussed the principles of education in a summary
manner, but sufficiently copious for those who attend
seriously to the subject; than which nothing can be more
necessary to principle the minds of men in virtue, the only
genuine source of political and individual liberty, the only
true safeguard of states, the bulwark of their prosperity and
renown. Lastly, I wrote my Areopagitica, in order to deliver
the press from the restraints with which it was encumbered;
that the power of determining what was true and what was
false, what ought to be published and what to be suppressed,
might no longer be entrusted to a few illiterate and illiberal
individuals, who refused their sanction to any work which
contained views or sentiments at all above the level of the
vulgar superstition. On the last species of civil liberty, I
said nothing, because I saw that sufficient attention was paid
to it by the magistrates; nor did I write anything on the
prerogative of the crown, till the king, voted an enemy by the
parliament, and vanquished in the field, was summoned before
the tribunal which condemned him to lose his head. But when,
at length, some Presbyterian ministers, who had formerly been
the most bitter enemies to Charles, became jealous of the
growth of the Independents, and of their ascendency in the
parliament, most tumultuously clamoured against the sentence,
and did all in their power to prevent the execution, though
they were not angry, so much on account of the act itself, as
because it was not the act of their party; and when they dared
to affirm, that the doctrine of the protestants, and of all
the reformed churches, was abhorrent to such an atrocious
proceeding against kings; I thought that it became me to
oppose such a glaring falsehood; and accordingly, without any
immediate or personal application to Charles, I showed, in an
abstract consideration of the question, what might lawfully be
done against tyrants; and in support of what I advanced,
produced the opinions of the most celebrated divines; while I
vehemently inveighed against the egregious ignorance or
effrontery of men, who professed better things, and from whom
better things might have been expected. That book did not make
its appearance till after the death of Charles; and was
written rather to reconcile the minds of the people to the
event, than to discuss the legitimacy of that particular
sentence which concerned the magistrates, and which was
already executed. Such were the fruits of my private studies,
which I gratuitously presented to the church and to the state;
and for which I was recompensed by nothing but impunity;
though the actions themselves procured me peace of conscience,
and the approbation of the good; while I exercised that
freedom of discussion which I loved. Others, without labour or
desert, got possession of honours and emoluments; but no one
ever knew me either soliciting anything myself or through the
medium of my friends; ever beheld me in a supplicating posture
at the doors of the senate, or the levees of the great. I
usually kept myself secluded at home, where my own property,
part of which had been withheld during the civil commotions,
and part of which had been absorbed in the oppressive
contributions which I had to sustain, afforded me a scanty
subsistence. When I was released from these engagements, and
thought that I was about to enjoy an interval of uninterrupted
ease, I turned my thoughts to a continued history of my
country, from the earliest times to the present period. I had
already finished four books, when, after the subversion of the
monarchy, and the establishment of a republic, I was surprised
by an invitation from the council of state, who desired my
services in the office for foreign affairs. A book appeared
soon after, which was ascribed to the king, and contained the
most invidious charges against the parliament. I was ordered
to answer it; and opposed the Iconoclast to his Icon. I did
not insult over fallen majesty, as is pretended; I only
preferred queen Truth to king Charles. The charge of insult,
which I saw that the malevolent would urge, I was at some
pains to remove in the beginning of the work; and as often as
possible in other places. Salmasius then appeared, to whom
they were not, as More says, long in looking about for an
opponent, but immediately appointed me, who happened at the
time to be present in the council. I have thus, sir, given
some account of myself, in order to stop your mouth, and to
remove any prejudices which your falsehoods and
misrepresentations might cause even good men to entertain
against me. I tell thee then, thou mass of corruption, to hold
thy peace; for the more you malign, the more you will compel
me to confute; which will only serve to render your iniquity
more glaring, and my integrity more manifest.
_To Charles Diodati, Milton's schoolfellow at St. Paul's School, and his
dearest friend_