No More Learning

Milton is as close to his subject, Virgil to his, as Homer to Achilles
or the Saxon poet to Beowulf. What is really meant can be nothing but
the greater insistence of racial tradition in the "authentic" epics. The
subject of the _Iliad_ is the fighting of heroes, with all its
implications and consequences; the subject of the _Odyssey_ is adventure
and its opposite, the longing for safety and home; in _Beowulf_ it is
kingship--the ability to show man how to conquer the monstrous forces of
his world; and so on. Such were the subjects which an imperious racial
tradition pressed on the early epic poet, who delighted to be so
governed. These were the matters which his people could understand, of
which they could easily perceive the significance. For him, then, there
could be no other matters than these, or the like of these. But it is
not in such matters that a poet living in a time of less primitive and
more expanded consciousness would find the highest importance. For a
Roman, the chief matter for an epic poem would be Roman civilization;
for a Puritan, it would be the relations of God and man. When,
therefore, we consider how close to his subject an epic poet is, we must
be careful to be quite clear what his subject is. And if he has gone
beyond the immediate experiences of primitive society, we need not
expect him to be as close as the early poets were to the fury of battle
and the agony of wounds and the desolation of widows; or to the
sensation of exploring beyond the familiar regions; or to the
marsh-fiends and fire-drakes into which primitive imagination naturally
translated the terrible unknown powers of the world. We need not, in a
word, expect the "literary" epic to compete with the "authentic" epic;
for the fact is, that the purpose of epic poetry, and therefore the
nature of its subject, must continually develop. It is quite true that
the later epics take over, to a very great extent, the methods and
manners of the earlier poems; just as architecture hands on the style of
wooden structure to an age that builds in stone, and again imposes the
manners of stone construction on an age that builds in concrete and
steel. But, in the case of epic at any rate, this is not merely the
inertia of artistic convention. With the development of epic intention,
and the subsequent choosing of themes larger and subtler than what
common experience is wont to deal in, a certain duplicity becomes
inevitable. The real intention of the _Aeneid_, and the real intention
of _Paradise Lost_, are not easily brought into vivid apprehension.
The
natural thing to do, then, would be to use the familiar substance of
early epic, but to use it as a convenient and pleasant solvent for the
novel intention. It is what has been done in all the great "literary"
epics. But hasty criticism, finding that where they resembled Homer
they seemed not so close to their matter, has taken this as a pervading
and unfortunate characteristic. It has not perceived that what in Homer
was the main business of the epic, has become in later epic a device.
Having so altered, it has naturally lost in significance; but in the
greatest instances of later epic, that for which the device was used has
been as profoundly absorbed into the poet's being as Homer's matter was
into his being. It may be noted, too, that a corresponding change has
also taken place in the opposite direction. As Homer's chief substance
becomes a device in later epic, so a device of Homer's becomes in later
epic the chief substance. Homer's supernatural machinery may be reckoned
as a device--a device to heighten the general style and action of his
poems; the _significance_ of Homer must be found among his heroes, not
among his gods. But with Milton, it has become necessary to entrust to
the supernatural action the whole aim and purport of the poem.

On the whole, then, there is no reason why "literary" epic should not be
as close to its subject as "authentic" epic; there is every reason why
both kinds should be equally close. But in testing whether they actually
are equally close, we have to remember that in the later epic it has
become necessary to use the ostensible subject as a vehicle for the real
subject. And who, with any active sympathy for poetry, can say that
Milton felt his theme with less intensity than Homer? Milton is not so
close to his fighting angels as Homer is to his fighting men; but the
war in heaven is an incident in Milton's figurative expression of
something that has become altogether himself--the mystery of individual
existence in universal existence, and the accompanying mystery of sin,
of individual will inexplicably allowed to tamper with the divinely
universal will. Milton, of course, in closeness to his subject and in
everything else, stands as supreme above the other poets of literary
epic as Homer does above the poets of authentic epic. But what is true
of Milton is true, in less degree, of the others. If there is any good
in them, it is primarily because they have got very close to their
subjects: that is required not only for epic, but for all poetry.