East Hartford High School - Janus Yearbook (East Hartford, CT)

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SALUTATORY BEAUTY AS TRUTH Trustees of the school board, faculty, parents, and friends of the school, we, the January class of 1929, cordially welcome you to witness our last East Hartford High School activity. We also make this an occasion upon which to thank our par- ents and teachers for the time they have spent in aiding us to earn the written reward of a high school diploma, and the un- written reward of broadened minds ready to better appreciate and contribute to the beauties of the world. We started out from the beach just before sunset, and, un- fortunately, missed that colorful panorama lauded by poets and artists, because of a thick forest which left to sight only a section of the vast heavens above. However, as hill suc- ceeded .hill and the trees thinned down to bushes and open fields, we reached a summit where the remnants of a previous, glorious scene furnished an almost equal splendor. The whole horizen, prominently the western part, was dyed in a deep scar- let. The outlines of distant hills, of lonely pine trees and ma- jestic elms, of tall, stately church spires towering above mas- sive oaks appeared more conspicuous with this crimson back- ground. It was a silhouette of nature painted by herself 3 and what artist is there to excel nature? As twilight approached and we neared the city, the bor- der of scarlet became dull and rusty, turning to pale greenish yellow on the top and melting into a now dusky blue heaven. One faithful little star faintly glimmered in the west, the only beacon between the periods of the setting sun and rising moon. It was like a ray of hope assuring the world of a new guidance to come. In the dark valleys below various little lights flick- ered gaily, looking like stars fallen from the heavens and beg- ging to be raised again. And then the new guidance, the moon, shone forth. It became the watchful shepherd of a rapidly increasing flock of little stars, some huddled together in love of company, others remote, alone, coveting seclusion. 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,'-that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. So said John Keats in his poem Ode on a Grecian Urn. He found beauty in an old time- worn urn, one faithful little herald of past days, a relic of former splendor and glory in Greece. Thus does the exquisite beauty of nature spell out the great truth. Truth of what? Why, the truth of God's love of man. And this most beautiful sight seen by man portrays that most wondrous truth known by man. In life this declaration of Keats is least consciously recog- nized. Truth lends a warm rounding glow to the eye. and re- flects on the entire person in such a way as to compel admira- tion of a deeper sort. Abraham Lincoln possessed a lean, awk- ward figure, shaggy eyebrows, a large long nose, prominently huge ears, a thick lower lip, leathery, yellow skin, and a pro- truding Adam's apple, but he was really beautiful. His de- 25

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ence, art, and music. He must not allow himself to put off his reading or whatever method he takes of acquiring this knowl- edge. Each time he delays will make it harder, whereas, if he overcomes his reluctance, he will soon be able to find relaxation in it. He wants to reach his goal with unimpaired strength and energy. Then he must keep himself in good physical con- dition as he goes along. If his health is once broken he will have difficulty in building it up again so that he can pursue his way. But if he takes a few simple precautions daily he will have no trouble in that respect. He wants to gain success as a man of clean sportsmanship, of high ideals, such a man that his Maker can look upon the results of His handiwork with approval. Then he must keep his ideals constantly before him and rule his conduct in accordance with them. He must re- fuse opportunities to gain his desired position more quickly if accepting them means sacrificing the finer part of his vision and his manhood. He must be able to endure ridicule, to stand alone, and in the end he will be well repaid. He will be. one of the few who started out who arrived successfully at the end of the road. He will be among the few who have the right to con- sider themselves of this world's elect. Classmates, to-night marks our completion of four happy and profitable years in high school. We are grateful to our parents, who have made it possible, and to our teachers, who have increased its value. Here we have grown able to look upon the world with increasing understanding and to pick out our particular place in it. We have come to the beginning of the long road and have received the equipment that will sup- port us along the way. We are sorry to leave East Hartford High, but the road is before us. From the eminences along the way we will see this school standing at the beginning, and it will always seem beautiful to us. ARTHUR G. RANDALL. Proudly we stand for the school of our land, Our devotion will endure, Tho' we must leave thee, Never we'll g'rieve thee, East Hartford High! Honor be thine forever, Sorrow come near thee never, Thy great name be sure. Here is a toast, Thy good name let us boast, East Hartford will never fail, To thy great splendor, All must surrender, Blue and White, We will bear thy standards high, We will let thy banners fly- Hail to the East Hartford High! Words and Music by E. LOUISA BUSHER. A 24

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votion to his faltering countrymen gave his eyes and mouth a Winsome, compassionate expression, and his constant sorrow because of the horrible strife and warfare going on rendered him a haunted, tragic appearance, which caused all his asso- ciates to stand in awe before him and admire the beauty of the character of this man who, in all truth to his foresight of what was to be, acted against overwhelming opposition. In the fine arts may this truth in beauty be readily recognized. A real poet is one who expresses his innermost feelings in his finest words. His soul is his dictator. If he fails to reveal truthfully that soul's dictation, the poetry will seem artificial, out of place. It will not contain the reality and originality that are the stamps of the best literature. Shake- speare felt within him an unsurpassed understanding of human nature and with his divine gift of poetry expressed this knowl- edge in his immortal dramas. Robert Burns, Scotland's great- est poet, led a life of hardships and sorrows. Nature was his chief companion. The greatest quality of Burns's songs, of his love lyrics, of his interesting, sympathetic appeals to na- ture, and of his humorous verses with their underlying pathetic element is their sincerity. Carl Sandburg finds beau- ty in the rush and bustle of the city,--in the jostling crowds and noisy vehicles--, and he has gained his reputation for just that new and original point of view in his poems of his ex- pression of truth as he sees it. But Carlyle said of Byron that he would never retain fame as a genuine poet, because he did not express the sincerest feelings of his soul. And Carlyle's judgment is true for all poets who fail in their sincerity. Regard music in a different light, not as to the composers. but as to the way their pieces are played. As the church or- gan and choir blend together in holy praises, the congregation feel a warm deep response within their hearts. And this music is beautiful. For it is played to reveal a truth of wor- ship and devotion. If the hymns were played in the light, frisky notes of Chopin or the wailing, heart-rending melody of Beethoven, would they be beautiful? No, they would be ruined, for they would be lies, lies. And if the compositions of Beethoven, the tale-bearers of a sorrowful, tragic life, were played as hymns or frolicksome pieces, would they be beauti- ful? No, for tragedy is neither devotion nor happiness. And thus would Chopin's light, gay creations lose the intended beauty if produced in any other than a light or joyous way. We love and praise music which truthfully expresses some emotion we recognize and may have experienced. We call this music beautiful, and so it is. Some of man's most excellent beau-ideals in the arts are theipaintlngs of Raphael, Velasquez, and Durer and the sculp- turing of Michelangelo. The same inevitable reason is that they are among the sincerest and truest in their representa- tions of life. So, may it be seen that whether it be nature, a Grecian urn, a human personality, poetry, music, or art, if it is beautiful, it is truthful, and if truthful, beautiful. 26