No More Learning

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. It is the consciousness
of modern Europe. _Jerusalem Delivered_ and the _Lusiads_ are drenched
with the spirit of the Renaissance; and that is chiefly responsible for
their lovely poetry. But they reach out towards the new Europe that was
then just beginning. Europe making common cause against the peoples that
are not Europe; Europe carrying her domination round the world--is that
what Tasso and Camoens ultimately mean? It would be too hard and too
narrow a matter by itself to make these poems what they are. No; it is
not the action of Europe, but the spirit of European consciousness, that
gave Tasso and Camoens their deepest inspiration. But what European
consciousness really is, these poets rather vaguely suggest than master
into clear and irresistible expression, into the supreme symbolism of
perfectly adequate art. They still took European consciousness as an
affair of geography and race rather than simply as a triumphant stage in
the general progress of man's knowledge of himself. Their time imposed a
duty on them; that they clearly understood. But they did not clearly
understand what the duty was; partly, no doubt, because they were both
strongly influenced by mediaeval religion. And so it is atmosphere, in
Tasso and Camoens, that counts much more than substance; both poets seem
perpetually thrilled by something they cannot express--the _non so che_
of Tasso. And what chiefly gives this sense of quivering, uncertain
significance to their poetry is the increase of freedom and decrease of
control in the supernatural. Supernaturalism was emphasized, because
they instinctively felt that this was the means epic poetry must use to
accomplish its new duties; it was disorderly, because they did not quite
know what use these duties required. Tasso and Camoens, for all the
splendour and loveliness of their work, leave epic poetry, as it were,
consciously dissatisfied--knowing that its future must achieve some
significance larger and deeper than anything it had yet done, and
knowing that this must be done somehow through imagined supernaturalism.
It waited nearly a hundred years for the poet who understood exactly
what was to be done and exactly how to do it.

In _Paradise Lost_, the development of epic poetry culminates, as far as
it has yet gone. The essential inspiration of the poem implies a
particular sense of human existence which has not yet definitely
appeared in the epic series, but which the process of life in Europe
made it absolutely necessary that epic poetry should symbolize. In
Milton, the poet arose who was supremely adequate to the greatest task
laid on epic poetry since its beginning with Homer; Milton's task was
perhaps even more exacting than that original one. "His work is not the
greatest of heroic poems, only because it is not the first. " The epigram
might just as reasonably have been the other way round. But nothing
would be more unprofitable than a discussion in which Homer and Milton
compete for supremacy of genius. Our business here is quite otherwise.

With the partial exception of Tasso and Camoens, all epic poetry before
Milton is some symbolism of man's sense of his own will. It is simply
this in Homer; and the succeeding poets developed this intention but
remained well within it. Not even Virgil, with his metaphysic of
individual merged into social will--not even Virgil went outside it. In
fact, it is a sort of _monism_ of consciousness that inspires all
pre-Miltonic epic. But in Milton, it has become a _dualism_. Before him,
the primary impulse of epic is an impassioned sense of man's nature
_being contained_--by his destiny: _his_ only because he is in it and
belongs to it, as we say "_my_ country. " With Milton, this has
necessarily become not only a sense of man's rigorously contained
nature, but equally a sense of that which contains man--in fact,
simultaneously a sense of individual will and of universal necessity.
The single sense of these two irreconcilables is what Milton's poetry
has to symbolize. Could they be reconciled, the two elements in man's
modern consciousness of existence would form a monism. But this
consciousness is a dualism; its elements are absolutely opposed.
_Paradise Lost_ is inspired by intense consciousness of the eternal
contradiction between the general, unlimited, irresistible will of
universal destiny, and defined individual will existing within this, and
inexplicably capable of acting on it, even against it. Or, if that seems
too much of an antinomy to some philosophies (and it is perhaps possible
to make it look more apparent than real), the dualism can be unavoidably
declared by putting it entirely in terms of consciousness: destiny
creating within itself an existence which stands against and apart from
destiny by being _conscious_ of it. In Milton's poetry the spirit of man
is equally conscious of its own limited reality and of the unlimited
reality of that which contains him and drives him with its motion--of
his own will striving in the midst of destiny: destiny irresistible, yet
his will unmastered.

This is not to examine the development of epic poetry by looking at that
which is not _poetry_. In this kind of art, more perhaps than in any
other, we must ignore the wilful theories of those who would set
boundaries to the meaning of the word poetry. In such a poem as
Milton's, whatever is in it is its poetry; the poetry of _Paradise Lost_
is just--_Paradise Lost_! Its pomp of divine syllables and glorious
images is no more the poetry of Milton than the idea of man which he
expressed. But the general manner of an art is for ever similar; it is
its inspiration that is for ever changing. We need never expect words
and metre to do more than they do here:

they, fondly thinking to allay
Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit
Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste
With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayed,
Hunger and thirst constraining; drugged as oft,
With hatefullest disrelish writhed their jaws,
With soot and cinders filled;

or more than they do here:

What though the field be lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield,
And what is else not to be overcome.

But what Homer's words, and perhaps what Virgil's words, set out to do,
they do just as marvellously. There is no sure way of comparison here.
How words do their work in poetry, and how we appreciate the way they do
it--this seems to involve the obscurest processes of the mind: analysis
can but fumble at it. But we can compare inspiration--the nature of the
inmost urgent motive of poetry. And it is not irrelevant to add (it
seems to me mere fact), that Milton had the greatest motive that has
ever ruled a poet.

For the vehicle of this motive, a fable of purely human action would
obviously not suffice. What Milton has to express is, of course,
altogether human; destiny is an entirely human conception. But he has to
express not simply the sense of human existence occurring in destiny;
that brings in destiny only mediately, through that which is destined.
He has to express the sense of destiny immediately, at the same time as
he expresses its opponent, the destined will of man. Destiny will appear
in poetry as an omnipotent God; Virgil had already prepared poetry for
that. But the action at large must clearly consist now, and for the
first time, overwhelmingly of supernatural imagination. Milton has been
foolishly blamed for making his supernaturalism too human. But nothing
can come into poetry that is not shaped and recognizable; how else but
in anthropomorphism could destiny, or (its poetic equivalent) deity,
exist in _Paradise Lost_?

We may see what a change has come over epic poetry, if we compare this
supernatural imagination of Milton's with the supernatural machinery of
any previous epic poet. Virgil is the most scrupulous in this respect;
and towards the inevitable change, which Milton completed and perfected
from Camoens and Tasso, Virgil took a great step in making Jupiter
professedly almighty. But compare Virgil's "Tantaene animis celestibus
irae? " with Milton's "Evil, be thou my good! " It is the difference
between an accidental device and essential substance. That, in order to
symbolize in epic form--that is to say, in _narrative_ form--the
dualistic sense of destiny and the destined, and both immediately
--Milton had to dissolve his human action completely in a
supernatural action, is the sign not merely of a development, but of a
re-creation, of epic art.

It has been said that Satan is the hero of _Paradise Lost_. The offence
which the remark has caused is due, no doubt, to injudicious use of the
word "hero. " It is surely the simple fact that if _Paradise Lost_ exists
for any one figure, that is Satan; just as the _Iliad_ exists for
Achilles, and the _Odyssey_ for Odysseus. It is in the figure of Satan
that the imperishable significance of _Paradise Lost_ is centred; his
vast unyielding agony symbolizes the profound antinomy of modern
consciousness. And if this is what he is in significance it is worth
noting what he is in technique. He is the blending of the poem's human
plane with its supernatural plane. The epic hero has always represented
humanity by being superhuman; in Satan he has grown into the
supernatural. He does not thereby cease to symbolize human existence;
but he is thereby able to symbolize simultaneously the sense of its
irreconcilable condition, of the universal destiny that contains it. Out
of Satan's colossal figure, the single urgency of inspiration, which
this dualistic consciousness of existence makes, radiates through all
the regions of Milton's vast and rigorous imagination. "Milton," says
Landor, "even Milton rankt with living men! "

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: 'And all round the ships echoed terribly to the shouting
Achaians. ']

[Footnote 7:
'When in a dusty whirlwind thou didst lie,
Thy valour lost, forgot thy chivalry. '--OGILBY.
(The version leaves out megas megalosti. )
]

[Footnote 8: 'Mother, since thou didst bear me to be so short-lived,
Olympian Zeus that thunders from on high should especially have bestowed
honour on me. ']

[Footnote 9: 'Honour my son for me, for the swiftest doom of all is
his. ']

[Footnote 10: "For everyone his own day is appointed; for all men the
period of life is short and not to be recalled: but to spread glory by
deeds, that is what valour can do. "]

[Footnote 11:
"They wer' amid the shadows by night in loneliness obscure
Walking forth i' the void and vasty dominyon of Ades;
As by an uncertain moonray secretly illumin'd
One goeth in the forest, when heav'n is gloomily clouded,
And black night hath robb'd the colours and beauty from all things. "
--ROBERT BRIDGES.
]

[Footnote 12: "All that is known, all that is felt, is God. "]




V.


AFTER MILTON

And after Milton, what is to happen? First, briefly, for a few instances
of what has happened. We may leave out experiments in religious
sentiment like Klopstock's _Messiah_. We must leave out also poems which
have something of the look of epic at first glance, but have nothing of
the scope of epic intention; such as Scott's longer poems. These might
resemble the "lays" out of which some people imagine "authentic" epic to
have been made. But the lays are not the epic. Scott's poems have not
the depth nor the definiteness of symbolic intention--what is sometimes
called the epic unity--and this is what we can always discover in any
poetry which gives us the peculiar experience we must associate with the
word epic, if it is to have any precision of meaning. What applies to
Scott, will apply still more to Byron's poems; Byron is one of the
greatest of modern poets, but that does not make him an epic poet. We
must keep our minds on epic intention. Shelley's _Revolt of Islam_ has
something of it, but too vaguely and too fantastically; the generality
of human experience had little to do with this glittering poem. Keats's
_Hyperion_ is wonderful; but it does not go far enough to let us form
any judgment of it appropriate to the present purpose. [13] Our search
will not take us far before we notice something very remarkable; poems
which look superficially like epic turn out to have scarce anything of
real epic intention; whereas epic intention is apt to appear in poems
that do not look like epic at all. In fact, it seems as if epic manner
and epic content were trying for a divorce. If this be so, the
traditional epic manner will scarcely survive the separation. Epic
content, however, may very well be looking out for a match with a new
manner; though so far it does not seem to have found an altogether
satisfactory partner.

But there are one or two poems in which the old union seems still happy.
Most noteworthy is Goethe's _Hermann und Dorothea_. You may say that it
does not much matter whether such poetry should be called epic or, as
some hold, idyllic. But it is interesting to note, first, that the poem
is deliberately written with epic style and epic intention; and, second,
that, though singularly beautiful, it makes no attempt to add anything
to epic development. It is interesting, too, to see epic poetry trying
to get away from its heroes, and trying to use material the poetic
importance of which seems to depend solely on the treatment, not on
itself. This was a natural and, for some things, a laudable reaction.
But it inevitably meant that epic must renounce the triumphs which
Milton had won for it. William Morris saw no reason for abandoning
either the heroes or anything else of the epic tradition. The chief
personages of _Sigurd the Volsung_ are admittedly more than human, the
events frankly marvellous. The poem is an impressive one, and in one way
or another fulfils all the main qualifications of epic. But perhaps no
great poem ever had so many faults. These have nothing to do with its
management of supernaturalism; those who object to this simply show
ignorance of the fundamental necessities of epic poetry. The first book
is magnificent; everything that epic narrative should be; but after this
the poem grows long-winded, and that is the last thing epic poetry
should be. It is written with a running pen; so long as the verse keeps
going on, Morris seems satisfied, though it is very often going on
about unimportant things, and in an uninteresting manner. After the
first book, indeed, as far as Morris's epic manner is concerned, Virgil
and Milton might never have lived. It attempts to be the grand manner by
means of vagueness. In an altogether extraordinary way, the poem slurs
over the crucial incidents (as in the inept lines describing the death
of Fafnir, and those, equally hollow, describing the death of
Guttorm--two noble opportunities simply not perceived) and tirelessly
expatiates on the mere surroundings of the story. Yet there is no
attempt to make anything there credible: Morris seems to have mixed up
the effects of epic with the effects of a fairy-tale. The poem lacks
intellect; it has no clear-cut thought. And it lacks sensuous images; it
is full of the sentiment, not of the sense of things, which is the wrong
way round. Hence the protracted conversations are as a rule amazingly
windy and pointless, as the protracted descriptions are amazingly
useless and tedious. And the superhuman virtues of the characters are
not shown in the poem so much as energetically asserted. It says much
for the genius of Morris that _Sigurd the Volsung_, with all these
faults, is not to be condemned; that, on the contrary, to read it is
rather a great than a tiresome experience; and not only because the
faults are relieved, here and there, by exquisite beauties and
dignities, indeed by incomparable lines, but because the poem as a whole
does, as it goes on, accumulate an immense pressure of significance. All
the great epics of the world have, however, perfectly clearly a
significance in close relation with the spirit of their time; the
intense desire to symbolize the consciousness of man as far as it has
attained, is what vitally inspires an epic poet, and the ardour of this
infects his whole style. Morris, in this sense, was not vitally
inspired. _Sigurd the Volsung_ is a kind of set exercise in epic poetry.
It is great, but it is not _needed_. It is, in fact, an attempt to write
epic poetry as it might have been written, and to make epic poetry mean
what it might have meant, in the days when the tale of Sigurd and the
Niblungs was newly come among men's minds. Mr. Doughty, in his
surprising poem _The Dawn in Britain_, also seems trying to compose an
epic exercise, rather than to be obeying a vital necessity of
inspiration. For all that, it is a great poem, full of irresistible
vision and memorable diction. But it is written in a revolutionary
syntax, which, like most revolutions of this kind, achieves nothing
beyond the fact of being revolutionary; and Mr. Doughty often uses the
unexpected effects of his queer syntax instead of the unexpected effects
of poetry, which makes the poem even longer psychologically than it is
physically. Lander's _Gebir_ has much that can truly be called epic in
it; and it has learned the lessons in manner which Virgil and Milton so
nobly taught. It has perhaps learned them too well; never were
concision, and the loading of each word with heavy duties, so thoroughly
practised. The action is so compressed that it is difficult to make out
exactly what is going on; we no sooner realize that an incident has
begun than we find ourselves in the midst of another. Apart from these
idiosyncrasies, the poetry of _Gebir_ is a curious mixture of splendour
and commonplace. If fiction could ever be wholly, and not only
partially, epic, it would be in _Gebir_.

In all these poems, we see an epic intention still combined with a
recognizably epic manner. But what is quite evident is, that in all of
them there is no attempt to carry on the development of epic, to take up
its symbolic power where Milton left it. On the contrary, this seems to
be deliberately avoided. For any tentative advance on Miltonic
significance, even for any real acceptance of it, we must go to poetry
which tries to put epic intention into a new form. Some obvious
peculiarities of epic style are sufficiently definite to be detachable.
Since Theocritus, a perverse kind of pleasure has often been obtained by
putting some of the peculiarities of epic--peculiarities really required
by a very long poem--into the compass of a very short poem. An epic
idyll cannot, of course, contain any considerable epic intention; it is
wrought out of the mere shell of epic, and avoids any semblance of epic
scope. But by devising somehow a connected sequence of idylls, something
of epic scope can be acquired again. As Hugo says, in his preface to _La
Legende des Siecles_: "Comme dans une mosaique, chaque pierre a sa
couleur et sa forme propre; l'ensemble donne une figure. La figure de ce
livre," he goes on, "c'est l'homme. " To get an epic design or _figure_
through a sequence of small idylls need not be the result of mere
technical curiosity. It may be a valuable method for the future of epic.
Tennyson attempted this method in _Idylls of the King_; not, as is now
usually admitted, with any great success. The sequence is admirable for
sheer craftsmanship, for astonishing craftsmanship; but it did not
manage to effect anything like a conspicuous symbolism. You have but to
think of _Paradise Lost_ to see what _Idylls of the King_ lacks. Victor
Hugo, however, did better in _La Legende des Siecles_. "La figure, c'est
l'homme"; there, at any rate, is the intention of epic symbolism. And,
however pretentious the poem may be, it undoubtedly does make a
passionate effort to develop the significance which Milton had achieved;
chiefly to enlarge the scope of this significance. [14] Browning's _The
Ring and the Book_ also uses this notion of an idyllic sequence; but
without any semblance of epic purpose, purely for the exhibition of
human character.

It has already been remarked that the ultimate significance of great
drama is the same as that of epic. Since the vital epic purpose--the
kind of epic purpose which answers to the spirit of the time--is
evidently looking for some new form to inhabit, it is not surprising,
then, that it should have occasionally tried on dramatic form. And,
unquestionably, for great poetic symbolism of the depths of modern
consciousness, for such symbolism as Milton's, we must go to two such
invasions of epic purpose into dramatic manner--to Goethe's _Faust_ and
Hardy's _The Dynasts_. But dramatic significance and epic significance
have been admitted to be broadly the same; to take but one instance,
Aeschylus's Prometheus is closely related to Milton's Satan (though I
think Prometheus really represents a monism of consciousness--that which
is destined--as Satan represents a dualism--at once the destined and the
destiny). How then can we speak of epic purpose invading drama? Surely
in this way. 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. Epic poetry will
certainly never be didactic. What we may imagine--who knows how vainly
imagine? --is, then, a sequence of odes expressing, in the image of some
fortunate and lofty mind, as much of the spiritual significance which
the epic purpose must continue from Milton, as is possible, in the style
of Lucretius and Wordsworth, for subjective symbolism. A pregnant
experiment towards something like this has already been seen--in George
Meredith's magnificent set of _Odes in Contribution to the Song of the
French History_. The subject is ostensibly concrete; but France in her
agonies and triumphs has been personified into a superb symbol of
Meredith's own reading of human fate. The series builds up a decidedly
epic significance, and its manner is extraordinarily suggestive of a new
epic method. Nevertheless, something more Lucretian in central
imagination, something less bound to concrete and particular event,
seems required for the complete development of epic purpose.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 13: In the greatest poetry, all the elements of human nature
are burning in a single flame. The artifice of criticism is to detect
what peculiar radiance each element contributes to the whole light; but
this no more affects the singleness of the compounded energy in poetry
than the spectroscopic examination of fire affects the single nature of
actual flame. For the purposes of this book, it has been necessary to
look chiefly at the contribution of intellect to epic poetry; for it is
in that contribution that the development of poetry, so far as there is
any development at all, really consists. This being so, it might be
thought that Keats could hardly have done anything for the real progress
of epic. But Keats's apparent (it is only apparent) rejection of
intellect in his poetry was the result of youthful theory; his letters
show that, in fact, intellect was a thing unusually vigorous in his
nature. If the Keats of the letters be added to the Keats of the poems,
a personality appears that seems more likely than any of his
contemporaries, or than anyone who has come after him, for the work of
carrying Miltonic epic forward without forsaking Miltonic form. ]

[Footnote 14: For all I know, Hugo may never have read Milton; judging
by some silly remarks of his, I should hope not. But Hugo could feel the
things in the spirit of man that Milton felt; not only because they were
still there, but because the secret influence of Milton has intensified
the consciousness of them in thousands who think they know nothing of
_Paradise Lost_. Modern literary history will not be properly understood
until it is realized that Milton is one of the dominating minds of
Europe, whether Europe know it or not. There are scarcely half a dozen
figures that can be compared with Milton for irresistible
influence--quite apart from his unapproachable supremacy in the
technique of poetry. When Addison remarked that _Paradise Lost_ is
universally and perpetually interesting, he said what is not to be
questioned; though he did not perceive the real reason for his
assertion. Darwin no more injured the significance of _Paradise Lost_
than air-planes have injured Homer. ]





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Epic, by Lascelles Abercrombie

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EPIC ***

***** This file should be named 10716-8. txt or 10716-8. zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www. gutenberg. net/1/0/7/1/10716/

Produced by Garrett Alley and PG Distributed Proofreaders

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you! ) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg. net/license).


Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1. A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1. E. 8.

1. B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1. C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1. E below.

1. C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1. D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1. E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1. E. 1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. net

1. E. 2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1. E. 1
through 1. E. 7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. E. 8 or
1. E. 9.

1. E. 3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1. E. 4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1. E. 5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. E. 1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1. E. 6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www. gutenberg. net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1. E. 1.

1. E. 7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1. E. 8 or 1. E. 9.

1. E. 8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. F. 3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1. E. 9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1. F.

1. F. 1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1. F. 2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1. F. 3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1. F. 3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1. F. 4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1. F. 3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1. F. 5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1. F. 6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www. pglaf. org.


Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.