Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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THE S P ECTATO R 23 We are familiar from childhood with the poem in which Browning tells of the charm of the Pied Piper from Hamlin. In the little town of Hamlin there was a great pest; the town was overrun with rats and mice. The people could think of no pre- ventive. One day a stranger declared that he could rid the vil- lage of rats. As he walked through the streets blowing on his pipe there came from everywhere big and little rats, old and slim rats, rats with families and lone rats. The Piper led them to the river where they were drowned. The most wonderful belief of English poets is that the world was created from heavenly har- mony, and when the last hour shall come music will untune the sky. English poets would fain make 11s believe that the gods arc affected by music. Milton tells us in “L’ Allegro” and in “II Penseroso” that the music of Orpheus drew iron tears down the cheeks of Pluto. St. Cecelia with her organ drew an angel from heaven. By music beasts are tamed, men are aroused or soothed, gods are touched and drawn from heaven, the universe is changed from chaos into an orderly body, sing the poets. Yea, more, for, Dryden signs, “When the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, And music shall untune the sky.” A Speedy Recovery C. G., T3. James Morse walked with slow steps into his private office and, seating himself, propped his feet on the desk. “Well.” he thought dejectedly, “it is all over now. Betty Haynes has refused me; given me up in fact for one of those cads who live on their father’s money and never do a day’s work in their life. How I hate that fellow!” Morse would have given almost anything for five minutes un- disturbed intercourse with his rival. However, he had no doubt that this particular offspring of society would not fight because it was not gentlemanly. What good did his position do him, he thought bitterly? True he was the chief surgeon of the New York Mercy Hospital, and in spite of his youth, the best known and most skillful surgeon in the city. But this renown did not benefit if Betty thought that a fellow who had never been “guilty”

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22 TH E SPECTATOR “The Merchant of Venice,” tells her lover that it makes her sad to hear the sweet strains of music. The Duke in “Twelfth Night, who did not stand in his lady’s grace, was consoled by strains of music. Browning wove the Bible story of Saul and David into a poem. In the poem Saul” he shows how powerfully the king was moved by the charm of harmony. Saul was sunk in awful dejection, from which he could not be aroused. Finally, before the king was brought the boy David, who played on his harp and sang; gradually the mighty king was touched, his limbs relaxed, his eyes softened and he became himself. In Dryden’s poem, “Alexander’s Feast, or The Power of Music,” the power of music over man is apparent. Alexander, the son of Philip, who has lately returned triumphant from his Persian conquests, is giving a banquet. He sits on a lofty throne with the lovelv Thais by his side. Opposite, in the midst of the choir, Sits Timo- theus with his lyre. The great musician sings in lofty tones of Jove; Alexander feels himself a god. Then he sings of Bacchus, ever young and fair; straightway the king becomes vain and valiant, three times fights his battles and three times kills his foe. Then, changing the song, Timotheus sings of Darius, whom Alexander conquered. The monarch revolves in his mind the various turns of chance, realizing that he too may fall victim to the same misfortune; at the thought he weeps. Then Timotheus changes his strain; he sings of love and pleasure; filled with amorous passion, Alexander sinks upon the breast of Thais. Sud- denly the music shouts “Refenge! revenge!” In excitement the king seizes a flambeau to destroy his enemies. Thus can music swell the soul of man to rage or kindle soft desire. Shakespeare, perhaps, expresses this thought more strongly than anv other poet when he says, “The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.” The poets even imagine that nature is influenced by music. Shakespeare, Milton, and Dryden are fond of the legend that Orpheus magnetized forth trees and stones. This is, perhaps, most beautifully expressed by Dryden in the “Song for St. Cece- lia’s Day” when he says: “Orpheus could lead the savage race, And trees uprooted leave their place Sequacious of the lyre.”

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24 THE SPECTATOR of a day’s work was better than one who had attained the high- est honors possible for one of his profession, and this at a very early age. And yet. he reflected, there was no particular pain in the region of his heart. According to all the laws of love he should have been sunk in the depths of despondency and despair and be draining to the dregs the cup of bitterness, and so it was a sur- prise to him that he did not feel so very downcast. And now that he thought of it, one of his friends had recently told him that he was not in love; did not know the meaning of the word. But he was in love, he assured himself, and after a lengthy argument convinced himself that he really was despondent and despairing as a rejected suitor ought to be. Then he sighed more for the sake of carrying out this idea than from any real dejection and turned to his work. He had not been at this long, however, when an assistant sur- geon rushed into the room. “A man has been knocked down bv an auto, sir; fracture of the skull I think; very serious case. Dr. Jones examined the patient and said you were the only man in the city who could save him. Better come at once, sir; patient is in the operating room.” Having delivered this message the young doctor hurried out of the room. Calmly Morse arose, picked up his instrument case, closed his desk, and left the room. A casual observer would have thought him hard and calloused; so emotionless, in fact, as not to care whether the patient lived or died. But this was not the case for he had performed so many operations where a man’s life hung on the slightest movement of his hand that he had lost his former nervousness at an approaching operation and this outward appear- ance of disinterest was only the calm assurance which comes from experience. For he knew that even now everything was being prepared for the operation and that on his arrival he could proceed immediately. When he came to the operating room, he found the patient stretched out on the table, his face covered by a cloth. He ex- amined the wound, a long cut above and behind the ear. Then Dr. Jones, who had been preparing some instruments, stepped forward. “I was going to operate myself, but found that this operation required greater skill than I possess,” he said respect- fully. “so I called you in. We are all ready, you can go ahead as soon as you have finished your inspection.” For a few moments Morse continued his investigation, then accidentally he knocked the cloth from the man’s face. He glanced down, then quickly took a second look at the man’s fea- tures. “Good God,” he gasped aloud, forgetting that he was