upon such suspition to seize upon such book or books, or part of booke or books, and to bring it, or them, to the Lord ArchBishop of Canterbury, or the Lord Bishop of London for the time being, who shall take such further course therein, as to their Lordships, or either of them shall seeme fit.

'XXVII. Item, The Court doth order and declare, that there shall be foure Founders of letters for printing allowed, and no more, and doth hereby nominate, allow, and admit these persons, whose names herefter follow, to the number of foure, to be letterFounders for the time being, (viz.) John Grismand, Thomas Wright, Arthur Nichols, Alexander Fifeild. And further, the Court doth Order and Decree, that it shall be lawful for the Lord Arch-Bishop of Canterbury, or the Lord Bishop of London for the time being, taking unto him or them, six other high Commissioners, to supply the place or places of these who are now allowed Founders of letters by this Court, as they shall fall void by death, censure, or otherwise.

Prouided, that they exceede not the number of foure, set downe by this Court. And if any person or persons, not being an allowed Founder, shall notwithstanding take vpon him, or them, to Found, or cast letters for printing, vpon complaint and proofe made of such offence, or offences, he, or they so offending, shal suffer such punishment, as this Court, or the High Commission court respectiuely, as the seuerall causes shall require, shall think fit to inflict vpon them.

'XXXIII. Item, That whereas there is an agreement betwixt Sir Thomas Bodley Knight, Founder of the Vniuersity Library at Oxford, and the Master, Wardens, and Assistants of the Company of Stationers (viz.) That one Booke of euery sort that is new printed, or reprinted with additions, be sent to the Vniuersitie of Oxford for the vse of the publique Librarie there; The Court doth hereby Order, and declare, That euery Printer shall reserue one Book new printed, or reprinted by him, with additions, and shall before any publique venting of the said book, bring it to the Common Hall of the Companie of Stationers, and deliuer it to the Officer thereof to be sent to the Librarie at Oxford accordingly, vpon paine of imprisonment, and such further Order and Direction therein, as to this Court, or the high Commission Court respectiuely, as the severall causes shall require, shall be thought fit.'

At the very time this rigorous edict was passed, Prynne, Burton, and Bastwick were lying in various prisons, the earless and branded victims of the Court that issued it; but they were presently to be the victors. Their treatment excited the deepest commiseration throughout the country. The Star-Chamber might make its

'Decrees,' but its days were numbered. With the meeting of the Long Parliament its elaborate edict became mere waste paper. In July 1641 an Act was passed for 'regulating the Privy Council, and for taking away the Court commonly called the Star Chamber': and so this jealous Court expired, never, happily, to be revived, though there were not wanting at the Restoration those who would have rejoiced over its renascence.

But the spirit that moved it did not die with it, but was soon perceived merely to have transmigrated into a new body. For a time indeed it was comparatively inoperative and dumb; but in less than three years it began to make its presence once more felt. There soon arose complaints of the unmitigated freedom of discussion that was found to prevail. Those who opened the lips of the nation were astonished at the thronging cries that proceeded from them. Freedom of speech was all very well when an enemy was the object of attack; but when it was themselves that were irreverently canvassed and exposed, it was not quite so free from objection. Moreover 'new heresies,' so called, were springing up every day. Men were striking away from all the proper and respectable highways of thought into paths no decorous person had ever heard of. Whose 'views' were safe from assault? It was altogether uncomfortable to have to be perpetually reconsidering and defending one's creed. This state of things was felt to be singularly 'unsettling.'

Not the least amongst the innovating offenders was Milton himself. His Divorce treatises had greatly scandalized many who had exulted in his succour in the controversy with the bishops in 1641 and 1642. They were denounced from the pulpit in a sermon 1 preached before the two Houses of Parliament in August 1664, and shortly afterwards 2 petitioned against by the Stationers' Company.

2

Milton then had personal reasons for coming forward as the champion of Unlicensed Printing, and, apart from these personal motives, he was well aware of the animosity his Divorce writings had aroused, for he speaks of the world of disesteem' in which he found himself. Possibly, in some pew at St. Margaret's, Westminster, he heard himself spoken of as 'impudent' enough to 'set 2 Ibid. 165.

1 See Masson's Milton, iii. pp. 162-4 and 263.

his name ' 'to a wicked book' which was abroad, and uncensured, though deserving to be burnt.' Perhaps there was never incarnate a spirit so impatient of all petty regulation and control as was that of Milton. Not that he meant 'license' when he cried 'liberty,' for his sense of law was as deep as his nature; and, bold thinker as he was, he was ever ready and eager to acknowledge all just and eternal restrictions upon human thought. But for any meaner limitings, they moved in him disdain and indignation.

'For me,' he writes in The Reason of Church Government urged against Prelaty, 'I have determined to lay up as the best treasure and solace of a good old age, if God vouchsafe it me, the honest liberty of free speech, from my youth, where I shall think it available in so dear a concernment as the Church's good.'

His was eminently 'a free and knowing spirit,' and resented, as a fearful ignominy, any attempts to bind and shackle it. Our supreme dramatic poet tells us, in one of his sonnets, of certain sights that 'tired' him, and made him cry for 'restfull death'; and amongst the sickening spectacles are

Not other are the visions Milton sees in his Areopagitica :—

'What is it but a servitude, like that imposed by the Philistines, not to be allowed the sharpening of our own axes and coulters, but we must repair from all quarters to twenty licensing forges?

'What advantage is it to be a man over it is to be a boy at school, if we have only scapt the ferular to come under the fescue of an imprimatur ? '

But these things do not 'tire' and dishearten Milton. Rather they inflame him with a noble rage; and so, in a very splendour of wrath, he rouses himself to strike them down. He seems 'larger than human,' as he advances to the fray, and the air around is filled with lightnings, and a clear way cleft in front of him with thunderbolts no shields can stay.

It need scarcely be said that Milton's fitness for the championship he assumed was recognised by others. Indeed it was partly in deference to the urgency of others that he stood forIward as he did. Learned men were complaining of the new

tyranny

'And that so generally that when I disclosed myself a companion of their discontent, I might say, if without envy, that he whom an honest quæstorship had endeared to the Sicilians was not more by them importuned against Verres than the favourable opinion which I had among many who honour ye, and are known and respected by ye, loaded me with entreaties and persuasions that I would not despair to lay together that which just reason should bring into my mind toward the removal of an undeserved thraldom upon learning.'

SECTION III. THE FORM.

As Milton wished directly to appeal to the Parliament, and not merely to talk at them, it seemed to him well to cast what he had to say in the form of a Speech addressed straight to them. Not that the speech was ever meant to be delivered in the ordinary sense. Just as the best dramatic pieces of the present century were written to be read-not to be seen acted-so this work was meant to be read, not heard delivered. It was meant for the closet, not for the forum. The author ascends an imaginary tribune, and conceives the Lords and Commons of England gathered around to listen. This direct expression suited better the mood of Milton's spirit at the time. He was terribly in earnest, and zealous to strike home. He did not propose merely to discuss the general question at issue, but he longed also to expostulate immediately and fervently with the Government on the character of the policy they were enforcing. It seemed to him no idle matter fit for leisurely disquisition, but a matter of life and death; and so far as might be, he would put aside all intervening obstacles, and say out in the very ears of

those whom he would move the thoughts that burned within him. Moreover, it gave no trifling charm in his judgment to this treatment of his subject that precedents for it were, as we shall see, to be found in that Greek literature which was his delight.

It is to be remembered then, that the Parliament is immediately before the eye of his mind throughout this discourse. The exordium or opening passage is altogether devoted to their praises, and the deprecation of any annoyance that might possibly be created by his boldness in intruding his voice upon them. He says that the mere thought of whom it is his address 'hath recourse to,' stirs in him a strange excitement-'hath got the power within me to a passion far more welcome than incidental to a preface.' And, indeed, this was no wonder, when we think of the immortal services that 'High Court' had done for England. In the subsequent history of the Long Parliament there may be something that is ignoble and mean. that it outlived its vigour, and in its senility sank into folly and contempt; but it is not possible to recall its illustrious youth and the prowess of it without pride and admiration. Milton's audience was at the time he spoke not unworthy of Milton. And amidst all the eulogies that contemporaries and writers since, of all shades of political opinion, have bestowed upon that memorable House of Commons, no higher compliment was ever paid to it than when the ardent soul of Milton turned so impetuously towards it to pray for the relaxation of bonds that seemed to stifle the very spirit of freedom. Its past career filled him with

confidence for the future.

It may be

'For this is not the liberty which wee can hope, that no grievance ever should arise in the Commonwealth, that let no man in this World expect; but when complaints are freely heard, deeply consider'd, and speedily reform'd, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise men looke for. To which if I now manifest by the very sound of this which I shall utter that we are already in good part arriv'd, and yet from such a steepe disadvantage of tyranny and superstition grounded into our principles as was beyond the manhood of a Roman recovery, it will bee attributed first, as is most due, to the strong assistance of God, our deliverer; next, to your faithfull guidance, and undaunted Wisdome, Lords and Commons of England.'