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

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To Ireland,  In The Stillest Summer Weather:--

 

   "The Air Was Calm,  And On The Level Brine

    Sleek Panope And All Her Sisters Played."

 

Suddenly The Vessel Struck On A Rock,  Foundered,  And All On Board

Perished Except Some Few Who Escaped In A Boat. Of King It Was Reported

That He Refused To Save Himself,  And Sank To The Abyss With Hands Folded

In Prayer. Great Sympathy Was Excited Among His Friends At Cambridge,

Enough At Least To Evoke A Volume Of Thirty-Six Elegies In Various

Languages,  But Not Enough To Inspire Any Of The Contributors,  Except

Milton,  With A Poetical Thought,  While Many Are So Ridiculous That

Quotation Would Be An Affront To King's Memory. But The Thirty-Sixth Is

"Lycidas." The Original Manuscript Remains,  And Is Dated In November. Of

The Elegy's Relation To Milton's Biography It May Be Said That It Sums

Up The Two Influences Which Had Been Chiefly Moulding His Mind Of Late

Years,  The Natural Influences Of Which He Had Been The Passive Recipient

During His Residence At Horton,  And The Political And Theological

Passion With Which He Was Becoming More And More Inspired By The

Circumstances Of The Time. By 1637 The Country Had Been Eight Years

Without A Parliament,  And The Persecution Of Puritans Had Attained Its

Acme. In That Year Laud's New Episcopalian Service Book Was Forced,  Or

Rather Was Attempted To Be Forced,  Upon Scotland; Prynne Lost His Ears;

And Bishop Williams Was Fined Eighteen Thousand Pounds And Ordered To Be

Imprisoned During The King's Pleasure. Hence The Striking,  If

Incongruous,  Introduction Of "The Pilot Of The Galilean Lake," To

Bewail,  In The Character Of A Shepherd,  The Drowned Swain In Conjunction

With Triton,  Hippotades,  And Camus. "The Author," Wrote Milton

Afterwards,  "By Occasion,  Foretells The Ruin Of The Corrupted Clergy,

Then In Their Height." It Was A Parthian Dart,  For The Volume Was

Printed At The University Press In 1638,  Probably A Little Before His

Departure For Italy.

 

The "Penseroso" And The "Allegro," Notwithstanding That Each Piece Is

The Antithesis Of The Other,  Are Complementary Rather Than Contrary,  And

May Be,  In A Sense,  Regarded As One Poem,  Whose Theme Is The Praise Of

The Reasonable Life. It Resembles One Of Those Pictures In Which The

Effect Is Gained By Contrasted Masses Of Light And Shade,  But Each Is

More Nicely Mellowed And Interfused With The Qualities Of The Other Than

It Lies Within The Resources Of Pictorial Skill To Effect. Mirth Has An

Undertone Of Gravity,  And Melancholy Of Cheerfulness. There Is No

Antagonism Between The States Of Mind Depicted; And No Rational Lover,

Whether Of Contemplation Or Of Recreation,  Would Find Any Difficulty In

Combining The Two. The Limpidity Of The Diction Is Even More Striking

Than Its Beauty. Never Were Ideas Of Such Dignity Embodied In Verse So

Easy And Familiar,  And With Such Apparent Absence Of Effort. The

Landscape-Painting Is That Of The Seventeenth Century,  Absolutely True

In Broad Effects,  Sometimes Ill-Defined And Even Inaccurate In Minute

Details. Some Of These Blemishes Are Terrible In Nineteenth-Century

Eyes,  Accustomed To The Photography Of Our Brownings And Patmores.

Milton Would Probably Have Made Light Of Them,  And Perhaps We Owe Him

Some Thanks For Thus Practically Refuting The Heresy That Inspiration

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Implies Infallibility. Yet The Poetry Of His Blindness Abounds With

Proof That He Had Made Excellent Use Of His Eyes While He Had Them,  And

No Part Of His Poetry Wants Instances Of Subtle And Delicate Observation

Worthy Of The Most Scrutinizing Modern:--

 

   "Thee,  Chantress,  Oft The Woods Among,

    I Woo,  To Hear Thy Evensong;

    And,  Missing Thee,  I Walk Unseen

    On The Dry,  Smooth-Shaven Green."

 

"The Song Of The Nightingale," Remarks Peacock,  "Ceases About The Time

The Grass Is Mown." The Charm,  However,  Is Less In Such Detached

Beauties,  However Exquisite,  Than In The Condensed Opulence--"Every

Epithet A Text For A Canto," Says Macaulay--And In The General

Impression Of "Plain Living And High Thinking," Pursued In The Midst Of

Every Charm Of Nature And Every Refinement Of Culture,  Combining The

Ideal Of Horton With The Ideal Of Cambridge.

 

"Lycidas" Is Far More Boldly Conventional,  Not Merely In The Treatment

Of Landscape,  But In The General Conceptionher Give The Child Whom He Loves?"

 

To Which The Man Replied: "Well,  I Did Pray Thus,  I Kept On And I

Believed,  And Yet I Was Not Heard."

 

"What Did You Pray For?"

 

"For This," Said The Rustic.  "I Have A Neighbour Who Steals The Figs

From My Tree,  And I Can't Catch Him At It.  So I Prayed That He Might

Fall From The Tree And Break His Legs.  But I Was Not Heard."

 

James Was Obliged To Laugh Aloud Over The Foolish Fellow Who Prayed To

The Merciful Father For Vengeance.

 

"Pray For Strength To Pardon Your Neighbour And Give Him The Figs Which

He Seems To Need More Than You,  And You Will Certainly Be Heard."

 

"And," Continued The Disciple,  "If It Is A Question Of Praying Without

Ceasing,  That Does Not Mean You Are Always To Be Folding Your Hands And

Uttering Pious Words; It Is Rather To Direct One's Thoughts Continually

With Longing To The Dwelling Of God And Things Eternal,  And To Measure

Everything In Life,  Small Things As Well As Great,  By That Standard,  In

Reverence And Faith."

 

A Noisy Fellow Asked: "How Can I Measure The Corn I Have To Sell By

That Standard?"

 

"If You Refrain From Taking Advantage Of The Buyer With Mixed,  Damp

Grain,  But Give Him Good Stuff,  Then You Are Doing God's Will,  And Are

Not Harming Your Immortal Soul By Deceit,  Then Your Corn And Your

Method Of Acting Are Measured By The Standard Of God And Eternity."

 

"But See," Exclaimed Another,  "My Business Friend Gave Me Bad Measure

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When He Sold Me Oil,  And Gave Me Half Water.  And It Stands In The

Scriptures: As It Is Measured To You,  So Shall You Measure It Again."

 

As They Walked On Jesus Shook His Head.  To Think That His Simple

Teaching Could Meet With So Much Misunderstanding,  Especially Among

Those Wanting In Will Towards It,  Those Who Could Think Of Nothing But

Their Desires And Bodily Comforts!  "No," He Exclaimed Sorrowfully,

"They Do Not Understand The Word.  They Must Have An Illustration That

They Can See And Feel,  An Illustration They Will Never Forget."

 

 

 

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Gradually They Were Reaching The End Of Their Journey.  They Met With

No Persecution During This Last Stretch.  Indeed,  They Rather Saw How

Some Of The Seeds,  Although Mingled With Weeds,  Had Taken Root.  They

Reached The Last Hills After A Night In Which They Had Encamped Under

Sycamore And Fig Trees.  Jesus Was Walking In Front.  Although He Was

Exhausted With The Long Wandering,  And His Feet Almost Refused Their

Office,  He Still Walked On Ahead.  The Disciples Came Behind,  And When

They Reached The Top Of The Hill They Gave A Great Cry.  There Opposite

Them On The Tableland Of The Other Hill Lay The Metropolis!  In The

Morning Sun It Looked As If Built Of Burnished Gold,  Solomon's Temple

With Its Innumerable Pinnacles Overtopping Everything.

 

Several Of The Disciples Had Never Before Been To Jerusalem,  And A

Feeling Of Inspired Reverence Came Over Them At The Sight Of The Holy

City Of The Kings And Prophets.  Here--So Thought Judas And Many

Another--Here Will The Glory Begin For Us.  They Sat Down Under The

Olive-Trees To Rest And To Put Their Clothes In Order,  While Some Even

Anointed Their Hair.  Then They Ate Figs And The Fruit Of The Currant

Bushes.  But They Were Anxious About The Master.  The Exertions Of The

Last Few Weeks Had Told On Him,  And His Feet Were Very Sore.  But He

Said Nothing.  The Disciples Agreed That They Could Not Let This Go On

Any Longer.  James Went Down The Slope To Where He Saw Some Cottages,

And Asked If Anyone Had A Riding Horse Or At Least A Camel On Which A

Traveller Could Ride Into The Town.  They Would Like To Borrow It.

 

A Little Bent Old Man Sidled Up To The Stranger And Assured Him With

Much Eloquence That Neither Horse Nor Camel Was To Be Had,  But That

There Was An Ass.  Yet That Ass Was Not To Be Had Either.

 

Could The Messiah Make His Entry On An Ass?  No,  We Could Not Begin

Like That.  Such Was The Disciple's First Thought.  Then It Occurred To

Him That Ancient Prophets Had Foretold: He Would Make His Entry On An

Ass.  Whereupon James Declared HimseEn,  Noble And Disinterested To The Height

Of Imagination,  But Self-Assertive,  Unmellowed,  Angular. They Disappear

Entirely When He Expatiates In The Regions Of Exalted Fancy,  As In The

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Introductory Discourse Of The Spirit,  And The Invocation To Sabrina.

They Recur When He Moralizes; And His Morality Is Too Interwoven With

The Texture Of His Piece To Be Other Than Obtrusive. He Fatigues With

Virtue,  As Lucan Fatigues With Liberty; In Both Instances The Scarcely

Avoidable Error Of A Young Preacher. What Glorious Morality It Is No One

Need Be Told; Nor Is There Any Poem In The Language Where Beauties Of

Thought,  Diction,  And Description Spring Up More Thickly Than In

"Comus." No Drama Out Of Shakespeare Has Furnished Such A Number Of The

Noblest Familiar Quotations. It Is,  Indeed,  True That Many Of These

Jewels Are Fetched From The Mines Of Other