CHAPTER II THE SYMBOLICAL PRIZE PENS FTER these remarks, the college tutor went to his desk, and took thence a little box and brought it to the table where they were. Having unfastened it, he drew forth a bundle of various pens, which he held in his hand, while he took up again his discourse in the following manner : "We do not act upon our pupils by fear so much as by spurring them on to rivalry by prizes, such as, for instance, these pens. One kind is for one subject, one 1 I cannot discover whether pens were given as prizes at St. Paul's School when Milton was there. It is not unlikely that this was the case; anyhow, Alexander Gil the younger, who was at first usher and afterwards head-master of Milton's school, and a personal friend of the poet, sent, about the year 1633, a gold pen to Phineas Fletcher with the following punning distich: Mitto tibi auratum calamum quia singula scribis (Sylva Poetica Autore P. F. Cantabrigiae, 1633), which I endeavour to preserve thus: Each word you write is golden; let me then Send you this handy prize, a golden pen. A palm of merit for the hand I prize. Classical scholars will notice the fault singula scribis in the first line of the distich-a is long before scribis. Now, Gil the younger was one of the best writers of Latin verse of that time in England, and we have letters of Milton to him, praising his skill very highly. But here he commits a grave error in prosody which no modern headmaster or ancient grammaticaster would ever sanction. Milton also, young Gil's pupil, friend, and admirer, has a short vowel twenty-seven times before sp and sc, and received castigation for these and other Bk. III, Ch. II] PRIZE-GIVING 251 for another. Just as we vary our tone for conversation, for reading, for singing, so also is there no less variety faults of quantity from the great Continental critics. The author of Nova Solyma, in the midst of admirable Latin heroics and lyrics, commits, curiously enough, the same egregious fault. What is the inference from such facts? Milton, too, was well acquainted with Phineas Fletcher's Latin works, and is supposed to have been influenced by the Locustae in 1626 and later, so that he would see his friend Gil's pen allusion in Fletcher's book of 1633 is likely enough. This presentation of pens occurs more than once in the Republic of Letters. On another occasion it was in connection with Du Bartas's Divine Weeks and Works, of which the youthful Milton was such an eager devourer and unconscious reproducer. The famous Ronsard, a celebrated French poet, sent Du Bartas, as a mark of his respect and esteem, a pen of gold, and said: "Du Bartas has done more in one week than I have in the course of my whole life." Again, there was a silver prize pen given in the middle of the sixteenth century, and possibly later still, to the best boy in an annual competition held between all the London Grammar Schools of that period. We know too that a St. Paul's boy on one occasion just missed it. This was Fulke, afterwards a noted Puritan divine, who was beaten for the silver pen by the boy Edmund Campion (who was to be the first Jesuit martyr of England); and so "Paul's Pigeons" had to remain in the background while Queen Mary passed St. Paul's on her accession, and Campion, from another school (the Grocers', most likely), having won the silver pen, had the privilege to come forward and "speak his piece," whatever it was. Pens, too, were given as prizes at Tonbridge School about the time Milton was born. This we know from a laudatory poem on John Stockwood, the head-master there, which appears in the prefatory portion of his Disputatiuncularum Grammaticalium Libellus (editio quarta, London, 1619). This poem, by a certain Thomas Thorpe (Oxon), describes the annual speech and prize-giving day (May 2nd) at Tonbridge, and says that the head-master, having taken his chair of authority in all his academical glory— Illi aptat, primam meruit qui laude coronam, Also John Davies of Hereford in 1611, says: "There was on such a day A disputation (that's a grammar fray) (Paper's Complaint, line 279.) in writing and composition. He who gains the prize in any particular branch of literary work has the pen corresponding to it in shape and material. This first pen I take up is of iron, and is the prize for ordinary diction. It is strong, plain, and has not too much ornament; in fact, its polish comes from use. It thus suggests that our every-day language, whether spoken or written, should be manly and strong, and yet restrained withal, free from colloquial boorish vulgarity,' free from puerilities, and not decked out with any rhetorical flowers. Solidity of diction is to be aimed at both in the words used and the sentences formed. All that is vain and foolish, or worse, must be studiously rejected. The language should be gentle, mild, temperate, and only on the rarest occasions vehement or excited, suitable and easily flowing, and carefully prepared without showing it; in fact, easy and clear both for speaker and hearer. "The next prize, somewhat similar, is for the best letterwriter. It is of the same metal, but rather more refined and polished. The next is of bronze, for the History prize, large and lasting, with a broader nib, so that the ink flows into blacker letters, and the whole writing becomes more important. The other end of this pen has a moderate-sized feather slightly trimmed and cut off to a point at the top, useful for going carefully through and considering what has been written, and for dotting down anything. Now, the historian differs widely from the messenger or the narrator. For in writing history there is quite as much need of foresight into coming events as of recapitulation of the past. The sensible historian does not content himself with a mere recital of things; he rather considers how history may be of present use, and especially contemporary history. We think the most praiseworthy object of the art of history is to trace out the effects of events great or small, to put in a bad light all crimes, even if successful, and to defend and extol good 1 Lat. rusticorum diverbia. • Crena. Unknown to many dictionaries, but in Littleton, the dictionary which absorbed the lexicon collections of Milton. CK. II] THE PRIZE PENS 253 actions, even if they fail. Especially do we wish our candidates for this prize to point out, in all that comes to pass, the wonderful power and varied action of Divine Providence, even as we see it shown in Holy Writ, and give God the glory due for it.1 "The next pen is a silver one, fuller and longer than the preceding, enamelled with coloured figures, and rejoicing in a very big feather. This is the prize for our orators, and shows the form of their art. "Rhetoric within the due bounds of prudent restraints is a most powerful weapon, and can be turned to the highest uses. How often it can overcome the most prejudiced man present by a subtle chain of reasoning adapted to the abilities of the audience! What power it has to encourage or depress! As by a magic charm, it can alter and attract man's very power of will. By the varied modulation of voice, and by the appropriate gestures which accompany it, it takes unobserved possession of our two most important senses. Nay, more, by the artful sway of its fascination it can often lead a whole audience captive at its will." "Neither conversation nor business, private or public, can be successfully conducted without this great art. A vulgar, paltry speech soon upsets the audience; but when the speaker is dignified both in himself and in his subject, his sonorous periods seem to roll forth like the voice of many thunders round the throne. With what silence and reverence, with what good will and agreement, will a vast crowd listen to an eloquent, grave, and free-spoken speech from a prominent citizen! What valour is kindled in the breasts of the rawest recruits when their General cheers them on by a brave, vigorous address! 1 Miltonic. 'We all know Gambetta's almost magic influence. But take an instance of to-day. On October 10th, 1901, Dr. Clifford (of the Baptist Union) spoke with vigour and eloquence at Edinburgh against Anglican sacerdotalism. We are told by the Daily Chronicle, October 11th, that "he stirred the great audience like the blast of a trumpet." "Rhetoric cannot be tied down to ordinary rules, though what I have said forms the foundation of the art. It will be found that a noble mind will best follow its own course, and pour forth new figures of speech, new surprises, and new intellectual feats, as the occasion for them arises, for the right expression at the right moment can hardly ever be made a certainty by any rule or by any speaker. Wherefore, to be a perfect orator, one requires not only an exhaustive knowledge of his subject and the great gift of a voluble tongue, but also a certain special skill and tact in managing his audience. "So long as the great human family and its social instincts remain, so long must Rhetoric too remain with us. She cannot be expelled from our words or even from our thoughts (how often do we play the silent rhetorician there!). She is different with different nations and tribes, but it is just this variety that makes her acceptable and permanent. "This being so, we do not depend much on models or rules of this art.1 In our lectures we rather illustrate by selections from the best authors, showing what is required of an orator for a democracy, what for a monarchy, what suits a town audience, and what the camp and the army, by what art to soothe the savage barbarians, and, most important of all, by what kind of 1 What the poor Grammar-school boys of Milton's youth had to endure, and how their brains were racked and bodies beaten on account of the themes and exercises they had to bring up to the ludi-magister before their years and knowledge were equal to the task, can hardly be conceived in these days. There were certain intricate rules and models for such compositions, which had been handed down from earlier times, and were quite unsuited to the youth and imperfect knowledge of the young intending Latinists. But they had to grapple with them. If they had to write a "theme," then they must observe these parts (1) Exordium; (2) Narratio; (3) Confirmatio; (4) Confutatio; (5) Conclusio. All must be done in thorough conformity with "Aphthonius his rules," Aphthonius being a flowery pedant of the third century, whom most boys wished had never bloomed at all. We have still a fading survival of these horrors in the early Latin verse and prose grinding of our own older foundation schools. But our author is against this method, and so is Milton. For an amusing dialogue on these |