No More Learning

We must remember here
the Virgil of the Fourth Eclogue--that extraordinary, impassioned poem
in which he dreams of man attaining to some perfection of living. It is
still this Virgil, though saddened and resigned, who writes the
_Aeneid_. Man creating his own destiny, man, however wearied with the
long task of resistance, achieving some conscious community of
aspiration, and dreaming of the perfection of himself: the poet whose
lovely and noble art makes us a great symbol of _that_, is assuredly
carrying on the work of Homer. This was the development in epic
intention required to make epic poetry answer to the widening needs of
civilization.

But even more important, in the whole process of epic, than what
Virgil's art does, is the way it does it. And this in spite of the fact
which everyone has noticed, that Virgil does not compare with Homer as a
poet of seafaring and warfaring. He is not, indeed, very interested in
either; and it is unfortunate that, in managing the story of Aeneas (in
itself an excellent medium for his symbolic purpose) he felt himself
compelled to try for some likeness to the _Odyssey_ and the _Iliad_--to
do by art married to study what the poet of the _Odyssey_ and the
_Iliad_ had done by art married to intuitive experience. But his failure
in this does not matter much in comparison with his technical success
otherwise. Virgil showed how poetry may be made deliberately adequate to
the epic purpose. That does not mean that Virgil is more artistic than
Homer. Homer's redundance, wholesale repetition of lines, and stock
epithets cannot be altogether dismissed as "faults"; they are
characteristics of a wonderfully accomplished and efficient technique.
But epic poetry cannot be written as Homer composed it; whereas it must
be written something as Virgil wrote it; yes, if epic poetry is to be
_written_, Virgil must show how that is to be done. The superb Virgilian
economy is the thing for an epic poet now; the concision, the
scrupulousness, the loading of every word with something appreciable of
the whole significance. After the _Aeneid_, the epic style must be of
this fashion:

Ibant ovscuri sola sub nocte per umbram
Perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna:
Quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna
Est iter in silvis, ubi caelum condidit umbra
Jupiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem. [11]

Lucan is much more of a Roman than Virgil; and the _Pharsalia_, so far
as it is not an historical epic, is a political one; the idea of
political liberty is at the bottom of it.
That is not an unworthy theme;
and Lucan evidently felt the necessity for development in epic. But he
made the mistake, characteristically Roman, of thinking history more
real than legend; and, trying to lead epic in this direction,
supernatural machinery would inevitably go too. That, perhaps, was
fortunate, for it enabled Lucan safely to introduce one of his great and
memorable lines:

Jupiter est quodcunque vides, quodcunque moveris;[12]

which would certainly explode any supernatural machinery that could be
invented. The _Pharsalia_ could not be anything more than an interesting
but unsuccessful attempt; it was not on these lines that epic poetry was
to develop. Lucan died at an age when most poets have done nothing very
remarkable; that he already had achieved a poem like the _Pharsalia_,
would make us think he might have gone to incredible heights, were it
not that the mistake of the _Pharsalia_ seems to belong incurably to his
temperament.

Lucan's determined stoicism may, philosophically, be more consistent
than the dubious stoicism of Virgil. But Virgil knew that, in epic,
supernatural imagination is better than consistency. It was an important
step when he made Jupiter, though a personal god, a power to which no
limits are assigned; when he also made the other divinities but shadows,
or, at most, functions, of Jupiter. This answers to his conviction that
spirit universally and singly pervades matter; but, what is more, it
answers to the needs of epic development. When we come to Tasso and
Camoens, we seem to have gone backward in this respect; we seem to come
upon poetry in which supernatural machinery is in a state of chronic
insubordination. But that, too, was perhaps necessary. In comparison
with the _Aeneid, Gerusalemme Liberata_ and _Os Lusiadas_ lack
intellectual control and spiritual depth; but in comparison with the
Roman, the two modern poems thrill with a new passion of life, a new
wine of life, heady, as it seems, with new significance--a significance
as yet only felt, not understood. Both Tasso and Camoens clearly join on
to the main epic tradition: Tasso derives chiefly from the _Aeneid_ and
the _Iliad_, Camoens from the _Aeneid_ and the _Odyssey_. Tasso is
perhaps more Virgilian than Camoens; the plastic power of his
imagination is more assured. But the advantage Camoens has over Tasso
seems to repeat the advantage Homer has over Virgil; the ostensible
subject of the _Lusiads_ glows with the truth of experience. But the
real subject is behind these splendid voyagings, just as the real
subject of Tasso is behind the battles of Christian and Saracen; and in
both poets the inmost theme is broadly the same.