No More Learning

Drama seeks to present its significance with narrowed
intensity, but epic in a large dilatation: the one contracts, the other
expatiates. When, therefore, we find drama setting out its significance
in such a way as to become epically dilated, we may say that dramatic
has grown into epic purpose. Or, even more positively, we may say that
epic has taken over drama and adapted it to its peculiar needs. In any
case, with one exception to be mentioned presently, it is only in
_Faust_ and _The Dynasts_ that we find any great development of Miltonic
significance. These are the poems that give us immense and shapely
symbols of the spirit of man, conscious not only of the sense of his
own destined being, but also of some sense of that which destines. In
fact, these two are the poems that develop and elaborate, in their own
way, the Miltonic significance, as all the epics in between Homer and
Milton develop and elaborate Homeric significance. And yet, in spite of
_Faust_ and _The Dynasts_, it may be doubted whether the union of epic
and drama is likely to be permanent. The peculiar effects which epic
intention, in whatever manner, must aim at, seem to be as much hindered
as helped by dramatic form; and possibly it is because the detail is
necessarily too much enforced for the broad perfection of epic effect.

The real truth seems to be, that there is an inevitable and profound
difficulty in carrying on the Miltonic significance in anything like a
story. Regular epic having reached its climax in _Paradise Lost_, the
epic purpose must find some other way of going on. Hugo saw this, when
he strung his huge epic sequence together not on a connected story but
on a single idea: "la figure, c'est l'homme. " If we are to have, as we
must have, direct symbolism of the way man is conscious of his being
nowadays, which means direct symbolism both of man's spirit and of the
(philosophical) opponent of this, the universal fate of things--if we
are to have all this, it is hard to see how any story can be adequate to
such symbolic requirements, unless it is a story which moves in some
large region of imagined supernaturalism. And it seems questionable
whether we have enough _formal_ "belief" nowadays to allow of such a
story appearing as solid and as vividly credible as epic poetry needs.
It is a decided disadvantage, from the purely epic point of view, that
those admirable "Intelligences" in Hardy's _The Dynasts_ are so
obviously abstract ideas disguised. The supernaturalism of epic, however
incredible it may be in the poem, must be worked up out of the material
of some generally accepted belief.
I think it would be agreed, that what
was possible for Milton would scarcely be possible to-day; and even more
impossible would be the naivete of Homer and the quite different but
equally impracticable naivete of Tasso and Camoens. The conclusion seems
to be, that the epic purpose will have to abandon the necessity of
telling a story.

Hugo's way may prove to be the right one. But there may be another; and
what has happened in the past may suggest what may happen in the future.
Epic poetry in the regular epic form has before now seemed unlikely. It
seemed unlikely after the Alexandrians had made such poor attempts at
standing upright under the immensity of Homer; it seemed so, until,
after several efforts, Latin poetry became triumphantly epic in Virgil.
And again, when the mystical prestige of Virgil was domineering
everything, regular epic seemed unlikely; until, after the doubtful
attempts of Boiardo and Ariosto, Tasso arrived. But in each case, while
the occurrence of regular epic was seeming so improbable, it
nevertheless happened that poetry was written which was certainly
nothing like epic in form, but which was strongly charged with a
profound pressure of purpose closely akin to epic purpose; and _De Rerum
Natura_ and _La Divina Commedia_ are very suggestive to speculation now.
Of course, the fact that, in both these cases, regular epic did
eventually occur, must warn us that in artistic development anything may
happen; but it does seem as if there were a deeper improbability for
the occurrence of regular epic now than in the times just before Virgil
and Tasso--of regular epic, that is, inspired by some vital import, not
simply, like _Sigurd the Volsung_, by archaeological import. Lucretius is
a good deal more suggestive than Dante; for Dante's form is too exactly
suited to his own peculiar genius and his own peculiar time to be
adaptable. But the method of Lucretius is eminently adaptable. That
amazing image of the sublime mind of Lucretius is exactly the kind of
lofty symbolism that the continuation of epic purpose now seems to
require--a subjective symbolism. I believe Wordsworth felt this, when he
planned his great symbolic poem, and partly executed it in _The Prelude_
and _The Excursion_: for there, more profoundly than anywhere out of
Milton himself, Milton's spiritual legacy is employed. It may be, then,
that Lucretius and Wordsworth will preside over the change from
objective to subjective symbolism which Milton has, perhaps, made
necessary for the continued development of the epic purpose: after
Milton, it seems likely that there is nothing more to be done with
objective epic. But Hugo's method, of a connected sequence of separate
poems, instead of one continuous poem, may come in here. The
determination to keep up a continuous form brought both Lucretius and
Wordsworth at times perilously near to the odious state of didactic
poetry; it was at least responsible for some tedium.