Central High School - EN EM Yearbook (North Manchester, IN)

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 MAPLE LEAVES. MYTHOLOGY OF MILTON. ASIIER R. COTTRELL. The mythological gods and goddesses of Olympus have been for twenty centuries the possession of lovers of art and letters. To Milton the classic mythology was a means to an end, a way by which he might give body and form to poetic ideas. All serious belief in the deities of Olympus had long since passed away,but the beauty and strength of the conceptions themselves gave them a lasting power in the minds of all who loved the beautiful in form and expression. They were for one thing a means of personification. Personification is the poetic way of looking at things, and especially was it Milton’s method. It was early in the period of his retirement at Horton, while enjoying the unbroken leisure and solitude indispensable to poetical meditation, that he wrote the ...companion poems of “L’Allegro” and “II Penseroso.” In these poems, which in a marked degree reflect the poet and his surroundings, we find a wealth of mythical allusions, the learning of books transmitted into lively imagery. Especially are his allusions and personifications numerous in the first forty or fifty lines of these poems. In the “L’Allegro” they average about one reference to each two lines; in the “II Pen-seroso,” one to each three lines. And yet, lavish as is their use, his mastery over the rich treasury of his education enabled him to make them an integral part of the poems, not merely citations and appendages. The first few lines of the “L’Allegro” offer a good example of this freedom in using the classical mythology. Melancholy, he says, is “of Cerebus and blackest midnight born,” but in the “II Penseroso” (line 23), the nobler Melancholy Is called the child of Vesta and Saturn. This may at first seem inconsistent, though on looking at it from Milton’s point of view we find neither inaccuracies nor inconsistencies. We have a mode of expression most natural to a mind filled with the conceptions of classic poetry. At the present day the classic mythology is no longer universally familiar to the reading public. The select, cultured audience for which Milton wrote was familiar with the mythology of Homer, of Virgil, of Horace, and with the legends and attributes of their characters. It must also be understood that the two poems represent dispositions, different but not opposed to each other. The word Melancholy itself had a different significance when taken into the language than it has at the present day. In the “L’Allegro” he has used it with the earlier signification of a pain fully depressed state of mind and body, almost approaching insanity. As understood today, with the 5 sense of moderate and, perhaps, not wholly unpleasant sadness he has used it in the “II Penseroso.” When a few lines further on, in “L’Allegro” 17-24, he says that Mirth is the child of Zephyr and Aurora, he says something that no Greek ever said, but which every Greek and every man of education would have understood, not as a matter of information, but as a matter of course. Just so here, Melancholy, personified, is to be banished. Milton is thinking of her as some pernicious being, fatal to the enjoyment of life and thought, and when he says that she was born of darkness and some strange, hellish monster, his readers understood him perfectly and knew that he had given it the earlier attributes. But in the “II Penseroso” it was the nobler Melan choly whose presence he invoked, and when he said that she was born of Saturn, grave, reverend and kindly, and Vesta, goddess of the hearth, home, and domestic virtues, his readers understood equally well that he had in mind a character, grave, thoughtful, and of meditative disposition. Instead of coining words, as is the custom today, Milton created characters. An idea of the number of allusions he makes may be gathered from the fact that in the one hundred and fifty-two lines of the “L’Allegro,” he mentions the following mythological characters: Cerberus, Mirth, Venus, Bacchus, The Graces, Zephyr, Aurora, Hebe, Hymen, Orpheus, Pluto and Eurydice. Melancholy, Darkness, Jest and Jollity are among the personifications. “Haste thee. Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides. And Laughter holding both his sides. And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty.” In classic geography he refers to the Styx in Hades, the Cimmerian desert, far to the north in a region of eternal dusk, Mount Ida, and Elysium. In his magnificent masque, Comus, that immortal apotheosis of virtue, Milton has again created a character, that of Comus himself. This production is strictly in accordance with the mythological beliefs in that the Greeks and Romans believed their gods and goddesses to be often near them in an invisible form, sometimes visible in a changed form, just as Comus and the Attendant Spirit were present and ready, the one to destroy, the other to protect hapless mortals. Here we also find another phase of Milton’s marvelous genius, namely his exceptional ability to write charming little songs. Especially in his songs to

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4 MAPLE LEAVES. As old maids they will live and prosper, Live and love their maidish life. But when yet quite young and giddish, They will catch two willing suckers, Catch two old and love-worn bachelors, Of the grass and widow type. But they will love their married life, And how sad ’twill be to leave us, Leave us when they are called above, Then will the old men whisper, Whisper in their sad bewailing, Carrie-Minnie! Carrie-Minnie! Now, O smoke, pray rise and tell us, Teach us of our Coryn’s prospect, Teach us of his future interests, What a praise he’ll win for classmates, He’ll become our billionaire, Man of money and affair; He will have his beads and ponies, Have them of all shapes and sizes; But of all the things he’ll own. Our old friendship will be greatest. And when at last he will wander from us. When he will leave us all forever, In the ringing of the church bells, We will hear his name resounding, Cor-yn! Cor yn! ‘Tis of Mamye we’ll now speak of, Mayme, the one whom all adore, Of her future we will tell little, For little’s all we know. This is that she will be a lady, Simply that and nothing more. And when the sun rises o’er the hill tops, Rises at the early morn. We will hear the golden robin, Hear the morning oriole, Chirping ’mong the trees and blossoms, Singing to her nearest mate, Whisper, softly whisper, Mayme! Mayme! Now, again, I ask attention, While I tell you of another, Tis of Lloyd I’ll speak and mention, Speak and tell you of his future, He will be our greatest member, One far greater than all others, Take heed, lest he thine ear abuse, In praising stereoscopic views, An M. D. will be his profession, An M. D. or a Medicine Doctor, But better still he’ll serve his country, Better far than as a doctor, For he will be the originator, Establisher or maker, Of a new sort of asylum, For waifs of the canine tribe. Here the dogs and cats and others. He will nurse and feed and care for, And. at last, when they are cured, When from ailments they are recovered, He will start them in the world aright, Start them Christianized and bettered. This will be his noble life work, And we’ll hear the cats at midnight, Quarreling, scratching, near the wigwams, Hissing, say to one another, Moy-moy-oid! Scroid! ’Tis now Fern that calls attention, And of her we will say a word, This is that a business woman, Or a twentieth century man she'll be; Make the money, do the voting, And receive a public office, And perhaps a President be. And when witches through the heavens Through the air and sky and ether, Drive and guide their broom stick horses, We will hear them whispering wildly, Whispering to their tire-worn steeds, “Sail, oh sail!’’ for thou are nearing, Coming closer to the Fern land, Closer to the land of Women. Now all’s finished, save but one, One whom even I can not tell, All the sages of our nations Can not tell one single jot. So we will leave it thus unfinished, Time alone will make it known, Though these be the circumstances, Yet he’ll love his dear old classmates, And when at last he’s passed away, ’Tis, perhaps, that some might mention, Some might think of times gone by. Oh, 1903, may there be, A long and prosperous life for thee. No cowardly deed disgrace thy name, Thou art a child well known to fame. Thy virtue none surpass! No class in High School is thy peer, Thy praise to us is very dear. And long years hence, though scattered wide. Our memories will recall with pride. Thy name, our noble class.

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6 MAPLE LEAVES. Echo and Sabrina, does the aptness of his allusions and the beauty of the imagery seem to justify us if we call Milton not only a picturesque but a musical poet, and to the audience at Ludlow castle it must have seemed as if they were thinking in a dream. As for his elegy, Lycidas, it must suffice to say that his invocation to the Muse, his prayer for fame, his reproach of the Nymphs, and his Court of Inquiry, wherein the Herald of the Sea, Hippotade, Comus and St. Peter testify, combine to render it the most beautiful pastoral monody in the English language. There is nothing in English literature, not much in any literature, like “Paradise Lost”; and though it was written thirty years later than the Lycidas, it has about the same number of allusions and refer-neces, but in these allusions there is one very pronounced change. Milton, now nearing the close of his life, blind, destitute, and friendless, had fathomed the depths of human woe. Being always of a pious, religious nature he was now particularly able to appreciate the fact that there was something higher than classical literature, namely, the Bible. He had tasted the fruits of the world, but they were not sufficient, and now, having chosen a field whose horizon was not narrower than all space, its chronology not shorter than all eternity, he almost forsook the classic mythology and substituted of necessity, characters drawn from the Bible. To show how great the change was it may be stated that in the entire first book there are only about a dozen classic characters, and those are mainly used for the purpose of comparisons and contrast. as when in lines 192-200 he compares the size of Satan to the giants Briareos and Typhon, who warred on Jove. In the fifth book he uses only about six classical characters, and in the last book, none. This change from classical to biblical characters must not be attributed to Milton’s disapproval of the mythological characters, but rather to the fact that his subject demanded that he use the Christian conceptions. In conclusion, it seems just to say, that of all poets, mediaeval or modern, Milton, pre-eminently the poet of the learned, has far excelled all others in the use of mythological characters, the beauty of classical imagery, and the aptness of his classical personifications. THE AMERICAN NOVEL. EDNA GINGERICK. The novel is the most widely popular and the most characteristic type of twentieth century literature. The changed character of the reading public furnishes one reason for the unprecedented growth of fiction. The spread of education among all classes, through the public schools, newspapers, and magazines, has gradually enabled most of our people to become readers of books. But the lives of the majority are spent in hard toil and their culture is limited. If such are to find amusement, it must come from reading matter within their comprehension. This is furnished by the novel with its varied representation of life. It is true that the modern novel was not developed until the middle of the eighteenth century, but it is, none the less, the flower of a plant which had been growing for a long time. Authentic history does not take us back to the time when human beings were not solaced by stories. Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors were delighted with the warlike tales of the gleemen. During the mediaeval age, romances held the popular interest. Short stories strung on one thread with no development of plot was the next step. There was an addition of character studies in the first part of the eighteenth century with the capstone of individuality of characters in the latter half of the same century. Before long a new interest pervaded fiction in the hands of Fielding and Richardson, leaving behind the grandiloquence of chivalry; they pictured the common everyday life as it was. Thus, we see, that, on the whole, the novel is not new but simply the natural, slow development of the epic through the romance, ballad, and drama. The American colonists, similar as they were to their Anglican forefathers, produced no great works of fiction during the colonial period. They wrote histories and laws—such things as were necessary. But it was not until the time of Washington Irving that we have any trace of our own present, dominant American novel. This pioneer gave his narrative an artistic coloring and movement which even today exert their charm when we read his “Sketch Book.’’ His style is masterly, clear, and easy. James Fenimore Cooper may be taken as the type of the novelist of the first half of the nineteenth century. He was an optimist, an idealizer, seeking only the best and refusing to see the bad. In his treatment of the American Indians, he makes the exception the type and suppresses their ugliest traits. His novels are full of adventure, both on land and sea. He was the first American to deem the scenes, characters and history of his native land fit for fiction and was, also, the first American to write the now widely-spread historical novel. By Cooper the field of ideas was widened materially; a new phase of the novel was introduced; and a permanent work of literature was given to the world in his “Leather-Stocking Tales.” The novel of the latter half of the nineteenth century is characterized by its historical tendency. Some are filled with adventure, while others are