CHAPTER V MILTON AND EPIC POETRY No one utterance of Milton on epic poetry is comparable in value to his remarks on tragedy in the preface to Samson Agonistes. And, strangely enough, his scattered references to narrative poetry are fewer and less direct than his scattered references to the drama. The difference may be traced to the fact that for the epic there was no complete and generally recognized theory with which Milton could ally himself. Such theories as were current in the seventeenth century had largely been expanded from Aristotle's brief section on the epic; and prolonged discussions had indeed arisen on the organic structure, and the poetical diction, requisite in narrative writing of the romantic and heroic types. But, although there are useful generalizations in this body of criticism, there is no adequate guidance for the 'literary' epic; and Milton's system, while it shows traces of Aristotle, crossed by neo-classical influence, could not reproduce any one distinct prototype. Yet, as we have seen, he was willing enough to be judged by rules of epic poetry, and by standards from which the best epic conventions had sprung. We may therefore seek out, and to some extent develop, the eclectic principles that shaped his theory of the epic. As with the drama, we may first consider Milton's early reading, for his youthful predilections in narrative poetry led up to his later theory of the epic. From boyhood on, he was determined to write a masterpiece in accordance with a true humanism. Dedicated to the service of his fellow Englishmen and posterity, he was constrained to read widely in all national literatures, and to study, in particular, the great national epics. At first his mind was diverted and charmed by romantic poetry, especially by the Breton cycle, and his 'younger feet wandered . . . among those lofty fables and romances which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by our victorious kings, and from hence had in renown over all Christendom." In Il Penseroso the young poet, high in his 'lonely tower,' beguiles the night with the 'sage and solemn tunes' that tell Of tourneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.? And long afterwards, as amid more serious themes he seeks a comparison for surpassing loveliness, the memory comes to him Of faëry damsels met in forest wide His mind thus richly furnished with the lore of romance, the young Milton first alludes to his own project, in the poem to Manso: Oh might so true a friend' to me belong, Our Saxon plunderers, in triumphant verse!' 1 An Apology, Works 3.271. 2 Il Pens. 118-120. 'P. R. 2.359-361. So true a friend as Manso had been to Tasso and Marino. "Mansus 86-95, trans. by Cowper, p. 611. And near the end of the Epitaphium Damonis, with more confidence and in more detail, he announces his plan to write an epic poem in his mother tongue on British legendary history: Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare; These themes I now revolve.1 Milton's early leaning toward romance may have been increased by the enthusiasm of Tasso, who, while discrediting the style, warmly advocated the subject-matter, of the French and Breton cycles. Beginning his Discorsi dell' Arte Poetica with an emphasis upon the importance of a right choice of epic material, Tasso, after some discussion of verisimilitude and wonder, decides against pagan themes, and proposes to substitute the deeds of Arthur and of Charlemagne. He says in effect:2 History is the proper source source of epic material. The chronicles of a nation unite religious and secular history; but only in the annals of Christianity does the modern poet find marvels that are true ready to hand for his imitation. The acts of the angels 1 Damon 161-168; trans. by Cowper, p. 617. 'Cf. Tasso, Dell'Arte Poetica, Discorso 1, pp. 200 ff. and demons are both marvelous and credible to men of the sixteenth century, as in ancient times pagan mythology was both marvelous and credible. Moreover, Christian and Hebrew religion have produced examples of perfect knighthood, which enable the poet to present an ideal to his State. The fable of the epic, then, should be taken from the true religion; but the poet should choose such matters as, without irreverence, he may alter and subject to his 'feigning.' Of this kind are themes from centuries long past, but with them it is difficult to observe 'decorum,' since they involve customs that are strange to modern men. Later history, on the other hand, while it has a great advantage in respect to 'decorum,' does not allow the poet to give free rein to his invention. In this dilemna the critic suggests as a period neither too remote nor too near, the days of Arthur or Charlemagne. The argument might seem to Milton an echo of his own desire; and the following passage in The Reason of Church-Government suggests that in deciding upon the nature of his great poem he had in mind not only Tasso's practice but his theory: Time serves not now, and perhaps I might seem too profuse to give any certain account of what the mind at home in the spacious circuits of her musing hath liberty to propose to herself, though of highest hope and hardest attempting, whether that epic form whereof the two poems of Homer, and those other two of Virgil and Tasso, are a diffuse, and the Book of Job a brief model; or whether the rules of Aristotle herein are strictly to be kept, or nature to be followed, which, in them that know art and use judgment, is no transgression, but an enriching of art. And lastly, what Kling] or knight before the Conquest might be chosen in ''Portano l'istorie moderne gran comodità in questa parte, che ai costumi ed all' usanze s'appartiene, ma tolgono quasi in tutto la licenza di fingere, la quale è necessarissima ai poeti, e particolarmente agli epici.' topic whom to lay the pattern of a Christian hero. And as Tasso gave to a prince of Italy his choice whether he would command him to write of Godfrey's expedition against the infidels, or Belisarius against the Goths, or Charlemagne against the Lombards; if to the instinct of nature and the emboldening of art aught may be trusted, and that there be nothing adverse in our climate, or the fate of this age, it haply would be no rashness from an equal diligence and inclination to present the like offer in our own ancient stories.1 Milton, illustrating the familiar precept of Horace,2 never more earnestly restated than by Tasso,' was 'longchoosing' in the matter of his subject. His should be no 'presumptuous undertaking with weak and unexamined shoulders,' as he once labeled the charlatanism of an enemy, but a task approached with deliberation. One recalls the lines of Vida: Nor, at its birth, indulge your warm desire, And let the theme in different prospects roll At last, in harmony with Tasso's suggestions, but, as it were, outreaching Tasso's grasp, Milton exchanged his first purpose for a higher: his half-formulated design in the Celtic material he abandoned indeed, but only to turn to an immeasurably greater Christian theme. 1 Church-Gov., Works 3.145-146. 2Cf. Ars Poetica 38-40. Cf. Dell' Arte Poetica, Discorso 1, pp. 197 ff. 'P. L. 9.26. According to 'An Apology, Works 3.293. Cf., for the figure, Horace, Ars Poetica 40, and Vida, De Arte Poetica 1.39. Vida, De Arte Poetica 1.57-61, trans. by Pitt. |