“Studious Retirement” 1632–1638now, after more than five years’ study and soul-searching, ready to proclaim un-
hesitatingly “No wonder, then, that you should have fathered in me a poet,” (“Nunc
tibi quid mirum, si me genuisse poëtam,” l. 61). This is bold and new. No previous
English poet had made anything like Milton’s forthright claim to the role of poet as
the essence of his self-definition. He implies, with rhetorical finesse, that he came
by his poetic gift partly as a matter of inheritance from his amateur musician father,
emphasizing their mutual interests and talents: “why does it seem strange to you
that we, who are so closely united by blood, should pursue sister arts and kindred
interests?”^83 He ascribes it also, gratefully, to the education his father provided,
which exactly suited the needs of a poet: not only Latin and Greek at school but
also private tuition in Hebrew, French, and Italian, and the opportunity after uni-
versity to study any and all areas of knowledge he wishes to pursue. Finally, he
ascribes it to the generosity of a father who did not force him to business (“the field
of lucre”) or to “the law and the evil administration of the national statutes,” but
allowed him leisure to develop as a poet:
Because you wish to enrich the mind which you have carefully cultivated, you lead
me far away from the uproar of cities into these high retreats of delightful leisure
beside the Aonian stream, and you permit me to walk there by Phoebus’ side, his
blessed companion.^84He then pledges to come forth from his obscurity – a gesture toward A Maske and
Lycidas. He virtually promises his father that he will attain fame, but also registers
considerable anxiety that his poems might not be well received:
Therefore, however humble my present place in the company of learned men, I shall
sit with the ivy and laurel of a victor. I shall no longer mingle unknown with the dull
rabble and my walk shall be far from the sight of profane eyes. Begone, sleepless cares
and complaints, and the twisted glances of envy with goatish leer. Malevolent Cal-
umny, open not your dragon gorge. You have no power to harm me, O detestable
band; and I am not under your jurisdiction.^85He concludes this poem with an apostrophe to his “juvenile verses,” urging them
“if only you dare hope for immortality” to preserve this eulogy of his father “as an
example to remote ages.” Though he couched this statement in the conditional,
Milton could now believe that the poems he has thus far written might win endur-
ing fame.
From his several works – and what he did not write – critics have inferred differ-
ent developmental narratives to explain Milton’s inner life during these years. In
Parker’s account, Milton senior was determined that his son should enter the min-
istry and saw A Maske as a distressing diversion from that course; Milton, to pacify
him, wrote “Ad Patrem” in 1634, left off writing poetry for three years, immersed
himself in ecclesiastical history and patristics (studies pertinent to the ministry), and