editions, others have published commentaries, and all have endeavoured to make their particular studies in some degree subservient to this general emulation.

Among the inquiries to which this ardour of criticism has naturally given occasion, none is more obscure in itself, or more worthy of rational curiosity, than a retrospection of the progress of this mighty genius, in the construction of his work; a view of the fabric gradually rising, perhaps from small beginnings, till its foundation rests in the centre, and its turrets sparkle in the skies; to trace back the structure, through all its varieties, to the simplicity of its first plan; to find what was first projected, whence the scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what assistance it was executed, and from what stores the materials were collected, whether its founder dug them from the quarries of nature, or demolished other buildings to embellish his own,

This inquiry has been, indeed, not wholly neglected, nor, perhaps, prosecuted with the care and diligence that it deserves. Several critics have offered their conjectures; but none have much endeavoured to enforce or ascertain them. * Mr Voltaire tells us, without proof, that the first hint of Paradise Lost was taken from a farce called Adamo, written by a player: † Dr Pearce, that it was derived from an Italian tragedy, called Il Pa

Essay upon the Civil Wars of France, and also upon the Epic Poetry of the European Nations, from Homer down to Milton, 8vo, 1727, p. 103. E.

+ Preface to a Review of the Text of the Twelve Books of Milton's Paradise Lost, in which the chief of Dr Bentley's emendations are considered, Svo, 1733. E.

radiso Perso; and Mr Peck, that it was borrowed from a wild romance. Any of these conjectures may possibly be true; but, as they stand without sufficient proof, it must be granted, likewise, that they may all possibly be false; at least they cannot preclude any other opinion, which without argument has the same claim to credit, and may perhaps be shown, by resistless evidence, to be better founded.

It is related, by steady and uncontroverted tradition, that the Paradise Lost was at first a Tragedy, and therefore, amongst tragedies, the first hint is properly to be sought. In a manuscript, published from Milton's own hand, among a great number of subjects for tragedy, is Adam Unparadised, or Adam in Exile; and this, therefore, may be justly supposed the embryo of this great poem. As it is observable, that all these subjects had been treated by others, the manuscript can be supposed nothing more than a memorial or eatalogue of plays, which, for some reason, the writer thought worthy of his attention. When, therefore, I had observed, that Adam in Exile was named amongst them, I doubted not but, in finding the original of that tragedy, I should disclose the genuine source of Paradise Lost. Nor was my expectation disappointed; for, having procured the Adamus Exul of Grotius, I found, or imagined myself to find, the first draught, the prima stamina of this wonderful poem.

Having thus traced the original of this work, 1 * New Memoirs of Mr. John Milton. By Francis Peck, 4to, 1740, p. 52, E.

was naturally induced to continue my search to the collateral relations which it might be supposed to have contracted in its progress to maturity: and having at least persuaded my own judgment that the search has not been entirely ineffectual, I now lay the result of my labours before the public; with full conviction, that in questions of this kind, the world cannot be mistaken, at least cannot long continue in error.

I

I cannot avoid acknowledging the candour of the author of that excellent monthly book, the Gentleman's Magazine, in giving admission to the specimens in favour of this argument; and his impartiality in as freely inserting the several answers. shall here subjoin some extracts from the 17th volume of this work, which I think suitable to my purpose. To which I have added, in order to obviate every pretence for cavil, a list of the authors quoted in the following essay, with their respective dates, in comparison with the date of Paradise Lost.

POSTSCRIPT.

WHEN this essay was almost finished, the splendid edition of Paradise Lost, so long promised by the reverend Dr Newton fell into my hands; of which I had, however, so little use, that as it would be injustice to censure, it would be flattery to commend it and I should have totally forborne the mention of a book that I have not read, had not one passage, at the conclusion of the life of Milton, excited in me too much pity and indignation to be suppressed in silence.

"Deborah, Milton's youngest daughter," says the editor, "was married to Mr Abraham Clarke,

a weaver, in Spitalfields, and died in August 1727, in the 76th year of her age. She had ten children. Elizabeth, the youngest, was married to Mr Thomas Foster, a weaver in Spitalfields, and had seven children, who are all dead; and she herself is aged about sixty, and weak and infirm. She seemeth to be a good plain sensible woman, and has confirmed several particulars related above, and informed me of some others, which she had often heard from her mother." These the Doctor enumerates, and then adds, " In all probability Milton's whole family will be extinct with her, and he can live only in his writings. And such is the caprice of fortune, this grand-daughter of a man who will be an everlasting glory to the nation, has now for some years, with her husband, kept a little chandler's or grocer's shop, for their subsistence, lately at the lower Holloway, in the road between Highgate and London, and at present in Cock-lane, not far from Shoreditch church."

That this relation is true cannot be questioned: but surely the honour of letters, the dignity of sacred poetry, the spirit of the English nation, and the glory of human nature, require, that it should be true no longer. In an age in which statues are erected to the honour of this great writer; in which his effigy has been diffused on medals, and his work propagated by translations, and illustrated by commentaries; in an age which, amidst all its vices, and all its follies, has not become infamous for want of charity it may be surely allowed to hope, that the living remains of Milton will be no longer suffered to languish in distress. It is yet in the power of a

:

great people, to reward the poet whose name they boast, and from their alliance to whose genius, they claim some kind of superiority to every other nation of the earth; that poet, whose works may possibly be read when every other monument of British greatness shall be obliterated; to reward him, not with pictures, or with medals, which, if he sees, he sees with contempt, but, with tokens of gratitude, which he, perhaps, may even now consider as not unworthy the regard of an immortal spirit. And surely to those who refuse their names to no other scheme of expense, it will not be unwelcome, that a subscription is proposed, for relieving, in the languor of age, the pains of disease, and the contempt of poverty, the grand-daughter of the author of Paradise Lost. Nor can it be questioned, that if I, who have been marked out as the Zoilus of Milton, think this regard due to his posterity, the design will be warmly seconded by those, whose lives have been employed in discovering his excellences, and extending his reputation.

Subscriptions

For the Relief of

Mrs ELIZABETH FOSTER,

Grand-daughter to JOHN MILTON,
are taken in by

Mr Dodsley, in Pall-Mall;

Messrs Cox and Collings, under the Royal Exchange;

Mr Cave, at St John's Gate, Clerkenwell; and

Messrs Payne and Bouquet, in Paternoster-Row.