It could only
be handed on by the minstrels themselves; and their audiences would not
be likely to listen comfortably to the old piecemeal songs after they
had heard the familiar events fall into the magnificent ordered pomp of
the genuine epic poet.
be handed on by the minstrels themselves; and their audiences would not
be likely to listen comfortably to the old piecemeal songs after they
had heard the familiar events fall into the magnificent ordered pomp of
the genuine epic poet.
Lascelle Abercrombie
Or rather, we should simply say that the production of epic
poetry depends on the occurrence (always an accidental occurrence) of
creative genius. It is quite likely that what Homer had to work on was
nothing superior to the Arthurian legends. But Homer occurred; and the
tales of Troy and Odysseus became incomparable poetry.
An epic is not made by piecing together a set of heroic lays, adjusting
their discrepancies and making them into a continuous narrative. An epic
is not even a re-creation of old things; it is altogether a new
creation, a new creation in terms of old things. And what else is any
other poetry? The epic poet has behind him a tradition of matter and a
tradition of style; and that is what every other poet has behind him
too; only, for the epic poet, tradition is rather narrower, rather more
strictly compelling. This must not be lost sight of. It is what the
poet does with the tradition he falls in which is, artistically, the
important thing. He takes a mass of confused splendours, and he makes
them into something which they certainly were not before; something
which, as we can clearly see by comparing epic poetry with mere epic
material, the latter scarce hinted at. He makes this heap of matter into
a grand design; he forces it to obey a single presiding unity of
artistic purpose. Obviously, something much more potent is required for
this than a fine skill in narrative and poetic ornament. Unity is not
merely an external affair. There is only one thing which can master the
perplexed stuff of epic material into unity; and that is, an ability to
see in particular human experience some significant symbolism of man's
general destiny.
It is natural that, after the epic poet has arrived, the crude epic
material in which he worked should scarcely be heard of.
It could only
be handed on by the minstrels themselves; and their audiences would not
be likely to listen comfortably to the old piecemeal songs after they
had heard the familiar events fall into the magnificent ordered pomp of
the genuine epic poet. The tradition, indeed, would start afresh with
him; but how the novel tradition fared as it grew old with his
successors, is difficult guesswork. We can tell, however, sometimes, in
what stage of the epic material's development the great unifying epic
poet occurred. Three roughly defined stages have been mentioned. Homer
perhaps came when the epic material was still in its first stage of
being court-poetry. Almost certainly this is when the poets of the
Crusading lays, of the _Song of Roland_, and the _Poem of the Cid_, set
to work. Hesiod is a clear instance of the poet who masters epic
material after it has passed into popular possession; and the
_Nibelungenlied_ is thought to be made out of matter that has passed
from the people back again to the courts.
Epic poetry, then, as distinct from mere epic material, is the concern
of this book. The intention is, to determine wherein epic poetry is a
definite species of literature, what it characteristically does for
conscious human life, and to find out whether this species and this
function have shown, and are likely to show, any development. It must be
admitted, that the great unifying poet who worked on the epic material
before him, did not always produce something which must come within the
scope of this intention. Hesiod has just been given as an instance of
such a poet; but his work is scarcely an epic. [3] The great sagas, too,
I must omit. They are epic enough in primary intention, but they are not
poetry; and I am among those who believe that there is a difference
between poetry and prose. If epic poetry is a definite species, the
sagas do not fall within it. But this will leave me more of the
"authentic" epic poetry than I can possibly deal with; and I shall have
to confine myself to its greatest examples. Before, however, proceeding
to consider epic poetry as a whole, as a constantly recurring form of
art, continually responding to the new needs of man's developing
consciousness, I must go, rapidly and generally, over the "literary
epic"; and especially I must question whether it is really justifiable
or profitable to divide epic poetry into the two contrasted departments
of "authentic" and "literary.
poetry depends on the occurrence (always an accidental occurrence) of
creative genius. It is quite likely that what Homer had to work on was
nothing superior to the Arthurian legends. But Homer occurred; and the
tales of Troy and Odysseus became incomparable poetry.
An epic is not made by piecing together a set of heroic lays, adjusting
their discrepancies and making them into a continuous narrative. An epic
is not even a re-creation of old things; it is altogether a new
creation, a new creation in terms of old things. And what else is any
other poetry? The epic poet has behind him a tradition of matter and a
tradition of style; and that is what every other poet has behind him
too; only, for the epic poet, tradition is rather narrower, rather more
strictly compelling. This must not be lost sight of. It is what the
poet does with the tradition he falls in which is, artistically, the
important thing. He takes a mass of confused splendours, and he makes
them into something which they certainly were not before; something
which, as we can clearly see by comparing epic poetry with mere epic
material, the latter scarce hinted at. He makes this heap of matter into
a grand design; he forces it to obey a single presiding unity of
artistic purpose. Obviously, something much more potent is required for
this than a fine skill in narrative and poetic ornament. Unity is not
merely an external affair. There is only one thing which can master the
perplexed stuff of epic material into unity; and that is, an ability to
see in particular human experience some significant symbolism of man's
general destiny.
It is natural that, after the epic poet has arrived, the crude epic
material in which he worked should scarcely be heard of.
It could only
be handed on by the minstrels themselves; and their audiences would not
be likely to listen comfortably to the old piecemeal songs after they
had heard the familiar events fall into the magnificent ordered pomp of
the genuine epic poet. The tradition, indeed, would start afresh with
him; but how the novel tradition fared as it grew old with his
successors, is difficult guesswork. We can tell, however, sometimes, in
what stage of the epic material's development the great unifying epic
poet occurred. Three roughly defined stages have been mentioned. Homer
perhaps came when the epic material was still in its first stage of
being court-poetry. Almost certainly this is when the poets of the
Crusading lays, of the _Song of Roland_, and the _Poem of the Cid_, set
to work. Hesiod is a clear instance of the poet who masters epic
material after it has passed into popular possession; and the
_Nibelungenlied_ is thought to be made out of matter that has passed
from the people back again to the courts.
Epic poetry, then, as distinct from mere epic material, is the concern
of this book. The intention is, to determine wherein epic poetry is a
definite species of literature, what it characteristically does for
conscious human life, and to find out whether this species and this
function have shown, and are likely to show, any development. It must be
admitted, that the great unifying poet who worked on the epic material
before him, did not always produce something which must come within the
scope of this intention. Hesiod has just been given as an instance of
such a poet; but his work is scarcely an epic. [3] The great sagas, too,
I must omit. They are epic enough in primary intention, but they are not
poetry; and I am among those who believe that there is a difference
between poetry and prose. If epic poetry is a definite species, the
sagas do not fall within it. But this will leave me more of the
"authentic" epic poetry than I can possibly deal with; and I shall have
to confine myself to its greatest examples. Before, however, proceeding
to consider epic poetry as a whole, as a constantly recurring form of
art, continually responding to the new needs of man's developing
consciousness, I must go, rapidly and generally, over the "literary
epic"; and especially I must question whether it is really justifiable
or profitable to divide epic poetry into the two contrasted departments
of "authentic" and "literary.
