Life Of John Milton, Richard Garnett [ebook offline txt] 📗

Involved In The

Revolutionary Tempest That Rages Around; And,  While Living Like A

Pedagogue,  Is Writing Like A Prophet. He Is None The Less Cherishing

Lofty Projects For Epic And Drama; And We Also Learn From Phillips That

His Society Included "Some Young Sparks," And May Assume That He Then,

As Afterwards--

 

   "Disapproved That Care,  Though Wise In Show,

    That With Superfluous Burden Loads The Day,

    And,  When God Sends A Cheerful Hour,  Refrains."

 

There Is Eloquent Testimony Of His Interest In Public Affairs In His

Subscription Of Four Pounds,  A Large Sum In Those Days,  For The Relief

Of The Homeless Protestants Of Ulster. The Progress Of Events Must Have

Filled Him With Exultation,  And When At Length Civil War Broke Out In

September,  1642,  Parliament Had No More Zealous Champion. His Zeal,

However,  Did Not Carry Him Into The Ranks,  For Which Some Biographers

Blame Him. But If He Thought That He Could Serve His Cause Better With A

Pamphlet Than With A Musket,  Surely He Had Good Reason For What He

Thought. It Should Seem,  Moreover,  That If Milton Detested The Enemy's

Principles,  He Respected His Pikes And Guns:--

 

When The Assault Was Intended To The City [November,  1642.]

 

    Captain,  Or Colonel,  Or Knight In Arms,

        Whose Chance On These Defenceless Doors May Seize,

        If Deed Of Honour Did Thee Ever Please,

        Guard Them,  And Him Within Protect From Harms.

    He Can Requite Thee,  For He Knows The Charms

        That Call Fame On Such Gentle Acts As These,

        And He Can Spread Thy Name O'er Lands And Seas,

        Whatever Clime The Sun's Bright Circle Warms.

    Lift Not Thy Spear Against The Muse's Bower:

        The Great Emathian Conqueror Bid Spare

        The House Of Pindarus,  When Temple And Tower

    Went To The Ground; And The Repeated Air

        Of Sad Electra's Poet Had The Power

        To Save The Athenian Walls From Ruin Bare.

 

 

Chapter 5 Pg 47

 

 

If This Strain Seems Deficient In The Fierceness Befitting A Besieged

Patriot,  Let It Be Remembered That Milton's Doors Were Literally

Defenceless,  Being Outside The Rampart Of The City.

 

We Now Approach The Most Curious Episode Of Milton's Life,  And The Most

Irreconcilable With The Conventional Opinion Of Him. Up To This Time

This Heroic Existence Must Have Seemed Dull To Many,  For It Has Been A

Life Without Love. He Has Indeed,  In His Beautiful Sonnet To The

Nightingale (About 1632),  Professed Himself A Follower Of Love: But If

So,  He Has Hitherto Followed At A Most Respectful Distance. Yet He Had

Not Erred,  When In The Italian Sonnet,  So Finely Rendered In Professor

Masson's Biography,  He Declared The Heart His Vulnerable Point:--

 

   "Young,  Gentle-Natured,  And A Simple Wooer,

        Since From Myself I Stand In Doubt To Fly,

        Lady,  To Thee My Heart's Poor Gift Would I

        Offer Devoutly; And By Tokens Sure

    I Know It Faithful,  Fearless,  Constant,  Pure,

        In Its Conceptions Graceful,  Good,  And High.

        When The World Roars,  And Flames The Startled Sky;

        In Its Own Adamant It Rests Secure;

    As Free From Chance And Malice Ever Found,

        And Fears And Hopes That Vulgar Minds Confuse,

        As It Is Loyal To Each Manly Thing

    And To The Sounding Lyre And To The Muse.

        Only In That Part Is It Not So Sound

        Where Love Hath Set In It His Cureless Sting."

 

It Is Highly Probable That The Very Reaction From Party Strife Turned

The Young Man's Fancies To Thoughts Of Love In The Spring Of 1643.

Escorted,  We Must Fear,  By A Chorus Of Mocking Cuckoos,  Milton,  About

May 21st,  Rode Into The Country On A Mysterious Errand. It Is A Ghoulish

And Ogreish Idea,  But It Really Seems As If The Elder Milton Quartered

His Progeny Upon His Debtors,  As The Ichnise In The Street Became More

Threatening Every Moment.

 

Jesus Was Exhausted,  And,  Surrounded By Guards,  Sat Down On A Stone In

The Courtyard Of Pilate's House.  The Crowd Came Up,  Mocked Him And

Insulted Him.  They Draped Him In The Torn Red Cloak Of A Bedouin For

Royal Purple,  They Plucked Thorns From A Hedge In The Neighbouring

Garden,  Wove Them Into A Crown,  And Set It On His Head.  They Broke Off

A Dry Reed And Put It Into His Hand As A Sceptre.  They Anointed His

Cheek With Spittle.  And Then They Bowed Down To The Ground Before Him,

And Sang In A Shrill Voice: "Hail To Thee,  O Anointed Messiah-King!"

And Put Out Their Tongues At Him.

 

Jesus Sat There,  Calm And Unmoved.  He Looked At His Tormentors With

Sad Eyes,  Not In Anger,  But In Pity.

 

His Disciples,  Terrified To Death,  Had Now Come Up,  But Remained

Outside The Walls.  Peter Was Furious Over The Infamous Betrayal That

Had Taken Place,  And Could Not Understand What Had Possessed Judas.  In

Chapter 5 Pg 48

Sore Distress He Stood In The Farthest Courtyard Where It Was Dark.

Then A Girl Tripped Up To Him On Her Way To The Well For Water.

 

"Here's Another!" She Shouted.  "Why Are You Standing Here?  Go And Do

Homage To Your King."

 

Peter Turned In The Direction Of The Gate.

 

"You're One Of Those Galileans,  Too," She Continued.

 

"What Have I To Do With Galilee?" He Said.

 

A Gatekeeper Interposed: "Of Course He Is A Galilean.  You Can See That

By His Dress.  He Belongs To The Nazarene."

 

"I Do Not Know Him," Said Peter,  And Tried To Hurry Off.  The

Gatekeeper Stopped Him With The Shaft Of His Spear.  "Halt There,  You

Jew!  Your King Is Seated Yonder On His Throne.  Do Homage To Him

Before He Flies Into The Clouds."

 

"Let Me Alone; I Do Not Know The Man," Exclaimed Peter,  And Hastened

Away.  As He Went Out Of The Gate,  A Cock Crowed Just Over His Head.

Peter Started.  Did He Not Speak Of A Cock At Supper?  "And Another

Will Deny Me This Night Just Before Cock-Crow."  In A Flash The Old

Disciple Saw What He Had Done.  From Terror That He,  Too,  Would Be

Seized,  He Had Lied About His Master,  About Him Who Had Been Everything

To Him--Everything--Everything.  Now In His Need They Had Left Him

Alone,  Had Not Even Had The Courage To Acknowledge Themselves His

Supporters.  "Oh,  Simon!" He Said To Himself,  "You Should Have Stayed

By Your Lake Instead Of Playing At Being The Chosen Of God.  He Gave Me

His Kingdom Of Heaven And This Is How I Requite Him!"  His Life Was Now

So Broken That He Crept Out Into The Desert.  There He Threw Himself On

A Stone,  Wrung His Hands,  And Abandoned Himself To Weeping.

 

Jesus Was At Last Brought Into The Hall Before The Governor.  When

Pilate Saw Him In That Unheard-Of Disguise,  His Temper Began To Rise.

He Was Not To Be Waked From His Sleep For A Joke.  Well,  The Jews Had

Mocked At Their Messiah-King,  And He Would Mock At Them Through Him.

 

He Heard The Accusation But Found Nothing In It.  "What?" He Said To

The High Priests And Their Supporters,  "I'm To Condemn Your King?  Why,

What Are You Thinking Of?"  Instead Of Terrifying The Accused With His

Judicial Dignity,  He Desired To Enter Into Conversation With Him.

Although The Nazarene Stood There In Such Wretched Plight,  He Must Have

Something In Him To Have Roused The Masses As He Did.  He Wanted To

Make His Acquaintance.  In A Friendly Manner He Put Mocking Questions

To Him.  Did He Really Know Anything Special Of God?  Would He Not Tell

Him Too,  For Even Heathens Were Sometimes Curious About The Kingdom Of

Heaven?  How Should A Man Set About Loving A God Whom No One Had Ever

Seen?  Or Which Among The Gods Was The True One?  And For The Life Of

Him He Would Like To Know What Truth Really Was.

 

Jesus Said Not A Word.

 

Chapter 5 Pg 49

"You Do Not Seem To Lack The Virtue Of Pride," Continued Pilate,  "And

That's In Your Favour.  You Know,  Of Course,  In Whose Presence You

Stand,  In The Presence Of One Who Has The Power,  To Put You To Death,

Or To Set You Free."

 

Jesus Was Still Silent.

 

The Crowd Which Already Filled The Large Courtyard Became More A Still Silent.

 

The Marriage,  And Not This Incident Alone,

Refutes This Conception Of His Character; His Nature Was As Lyrical And

Mobile As A Poet's Should Be. We Have Seen "Comus" And "Lycidas" Arise

At Another's Bidding,  We Shall See A Casual Remark Beget "Paradise

Regained." He Never Attempts To Utter His Deepest Religious Convictions

Until Caught By The Contagious Enthusiasm Of A Revolution. If Any

Incident In His Life Could Ever Have Compelled Him To Speak Or Die It

Must Have Been The Humiliating Issue Of His Matrimonial Adventure. To Be

Cast Off After A Month's Trial Like An Unsatisfactory Servant,  To

Forfeit The Hope Of Sympathy And Companionship Which Had Allured Him

Into The Married State,  To Forfeit It,  Unless The Law Could Be Altered,

For Ever! The Feelings Of Any Sensitive Man Must Find Some Sort Of

Expression In Such An Emergency. At Another Period What Milton Learned

In Suffering Would No Doubt Have Been Taught In Song. But Pamphlets Were

Then The Order Of The Day,  And Milton's "Doctrine And Discipline Of

Divorce," In Its First Edition,  Is As Much The Outpouring Of An

Overburdened Heart As Any Poem Could Have Been. It Bears Every Mark Of A

Hasty Composition,  Such As May Well Have Been Written And Printed Within

The Last Days Of July,  Following Mary Milton's Departure. It Is Short.

It Deals With The Most Obvious Aspects Of The Question. It Is Meagre In

References And Citations; Two Authors Only Are Somewhat Vaguely Alleged,

Grotius And Beza. It Does Not Contain The Least Allusion To His Domestic

Circumstances,  Nor Anything Unless The Thesis Itself,  That Could Hinder

His Wife's Return. Everything Betokens That It Was Composed In The

Bitterness Of Wounded Feeling Upon The Incompatibility Becoming

Manifest; But That He Had Not Yet Arrived At The Point Of Demanding The

Application Of His General Principle To His Own Special Case. That Point

Would Be Reached When Mary Milton Deliberately Refused To Return,  And

The Chronology Of The Greatly Enlarged Second Edition,  Published In The

Following February,  Entirely Confirms Phillips's Account. In One Point

Only He Must Be Wrong. Mary Milton's Return To Her Father's House Cannot

Have Been A Voluntary Concession On Milton's Part,  But Must Have Been

Wrung From Him After Bitter Contentions. Could We Look Into The

Household During