In a few months
the labour of twenty years was swept away without a trace of it being
left. It was not merely a political defeat of his party, it was the
total wreck of the principles, of the social and religious ideal, with
which Milton's life was bound up. Others, whose convictions only had
been engaged in the cause, could hasten to accommodate themselves to
the new era, or even to transfer their services to the conqueror. But
such flighty allegiance was not possible for Milton, who had embarked
in the Puritan cause not only intellectual convictions, but all the
generosity and ardour of his passionate nature. "I conceive myself to
be," he had written in 1642, "not as mine own person, but as a member
incorporate into that truth whereof I was persuaded, and whereof I had
declared myself openly to be the partaker." It was now in the moment
of overthrow that Milton became truly great. "Wandellos im ewigen
Ruin," he stood alone, and became the party himself. He took the
only course open to him, turned away his thoughts from the political
disaster, and directed the fierce enthusiasm which burned within,
upon an absorbing poetic task.
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