CHAPTER I THE LEADING PRINCIPLES IN MILTON'S THEORY OF FINE ART All sound aesthetic theory rests upon the assumption of a definite relationship between form and function in a work of art. The theorist, whatever his concern, be it a rosewindow or a bas-relief, a pastoral idyll or a Pindaric ode, may begin with either aspect, and gradually move to the other, but in his ultimate judgment he will merge the two, and see them as one and the same. Accordingly, the fine arts in general, when duly examined, have always been subjected to a twofold investigation involving the structure of the individual masterpiece and its end or purposean investigation, that is, which from the beginning tends completely to associate form and function. And it appears to be true that the great modern poets, cherishing a philosophical tradition that goes back through Aristotle to Plato, have modified their theory and practice in harmony with a belief in the law of form, and, by conscious endeavor or unconscious emphasis, have led the acute and sympathetic reader to perceive the law in its varied manifestations. Poets deeply imbued with the concept, as were Dante, and Spenser, and Milton, constantly attend to the correspondence between spirit and substance, or, we may say, between form and function, and would have us realize that where, in particular cases, a maladjustment is apparent, accidental causes are at work. If the vision of the sculptor takes clumsy shape before our eyes, or the utterance of the lyric singer falls harshly upon our ears, the deformity, as Dante might explain,1 is traceable to a flaw in the artist's concept, to his imperfect control of his medium, or else to the inherent stubbornness of the medium itself, rather than to any failure of the principle in accordance with which he struggles for precision and beauty—that is, for perfection. Since an artist's position regarding the law of form clearly affects his entire aesthetic theory, we shall first study Milton's view of the matter. Milton takes his position unequivocally. He would be an opponent of the recent creed of art for art's sake, and of all standards that blind the critic to the vanity of artistic purpose in a random display of talent. An art, so he says in the Preface to his rendering of the Logic of Ramus, is what it is because of what it teaches, and no rule of art, but the higher utility resulting from the practice of rules, constitutes its form.2 Later in the same work he introduces a definition of form: Forma est causa per quam res est id quod est. The definition remains for him no mere bookish abstraction; in expository or argumentative passages he clearly paraphrases or almost literally translates it as a sound general principle, or as the truth upon which some concrete issue turns. Thus in A Treatise on Christian Doctrine 1 See Paradiso 1.127-129; De Monarchia 2.20 ff. 2 The passage is as follows: 'Forma sive ipsa ratio artis, non tam est praeceptorum illorum methodica dispositio, quam utilis alicujus rei praeceptio: per id enim quod docet potius quam per ordinem docendi, ars est id quod est.' Artis Logicae (Praef.), Works 7.4. Artis Logicae (Bk. 1, chap. 7), Works 7.21. This work on logic contains so much material bearing upon form and function, and upon the relation of art and nature, that, although it has been characterized as a digest of the Logic of Peter Ramus, it undoubtedly should be consulted in a study of Milton's aesthetic theory. he writes: "For it is faith that justifies, not agreement with the Decalogue; and that which justifies can alone render any work good; none therefore of our works can be good but by faith; hence faith is the essential form of good works; the definition of form being that by which a thing is what it is.' And in Colasterion he inquires regarding marriage (the essential form of which he has elsewhere defined as 'the mutual exercise of benevolence, love, help, and solace between the espoused parties'): 'How can a thing exist when the true essence thereof is dissolved?' To Milton, then, things are the expression of their inner spirit, or, to put it another way, they are what in the fullest sense they do. His conviction goes far toward placing him as a theorist, and immediately gives direction to our inquiry. Once on the watch for the idea, we find it everywhere. In fact, from the varied and unexpected contexts with which it appears, we realize that in the field of his interests that we are studying this notion must have been dominant; for, if it qualified his whole judgment of life, it certainly controlled his theory of art. Though it emerges in more varied ways, and perhaps more explicitly, from his prose, it nowhere has greater significance than in his poetry. Indeed, to lose track of it in Paradise Lost is to be unaware of the full inspiration of that great poem. This we shall later see; let us now deal with the more striking casual traces of the philosophical view in question. Among the direct and simple outgrowths of Milton's preoccupation with the law of form is his insistence upon 1 Christian Doctrine (Bk. 2, chap. 1), trans. by Sumner, 2.240. 'Colasterion, Works 4.368. |