The
counselor here is A.E. Housman, in his 1911
inaugural lecture at Cambridge University (Collected
Poems and Selected Prose, 1988, ed.
Christopher Ricks). Housman refers specifically to the rigors of his academic
specialty, classical scholarship. Early in the lecture he says, “As engraving
to the great art of painting, so is translation to the great art of poetry.”
Clearly, the deference he pays to his forebears in Greek and Latin scholarship
applies also to poetry, literature generally and probably to the rest of life.
By fetishizing the contemporary we erect the walls of a ghetto around the
present, shutting out vital supplies from the past and turning it into a
shriveled, parochial place. Look around: Ours is a small, darkening age. We
coast on our inheritance. The most insidiously foolish thing Ezra Pound ever
said was “make it new.” No, Ezra, make it good or, if you possess sufficient
skill, excellent.
More
than forty years ago, a professor of English lamented to me that most of his
undergraduates, some of them putative English majors, could make little sense
of anything written before Hemingway. He was referring to any language not
written according to the most reductive subject-verb-object model. Even Dickens, once the most
popular novelist in the Anglophone world, was too challenging to read, and today,
Hemingway would stump some our brightest young minds. (Consult your
spell-check software for what today’s literate minds deem “proper” English.)
Housman continues:
“The
dead have at any rate endured a test to which the living have not yet been
subjected. If a man, fifty or a hundred years after his death, is still
remembered and accounted a great man, there is a presumption in his favour
which no living man can claim; and experience has taught me that it is no mere
presumption. It is the dead and not the living who have most advanced our
learning and science; and though their knowledge may have been superseded,
there is no supersession of reason and intelligence.”
In
a letter written in 1933, three years before his death, Housman named the songs
from Shakespeare’s plays, the Scottish “Border Ballads” and Heinrich Heine as
the strongest influences on his poetry. The cagiest of men, Housman was being
disingenuous by explicitly denying the influence of Horace, whose spirit
suffuses Housman’s verse. In the final sentence of his Cambridge lecture, the
poet says:
“Do
not let us disregard our contemporaries, but let us regard our predecessors
more; let us be most encouraged by their agreement, and most disquieted by
their dissent."
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