As a mock epic piece Jonathan Swift's "The Battle of the Books" is a mock epic satire

written in 1704 that parodies the heated contemporary debate in England over whether
ancient or modern authors were superior. It takes the form of a literal battle between books
representing the ancients and moderns in the King's Library, structured like a classical epic
with invocations to the muses, divine interventions by the Goddess Criticism, and grand
heroic battles. However, it applies this elevated form to a trivial conflict in order to mock
pedantic scholars who blew the debate out of proportion. Swift establishes the mock epic
tone immediately by opening with a formal epic invocation, asking the muses to "Sing the
bold deeds of many Books and Bards,/ That since the time of Momus, God of Wit,/ Figur'd in
ancient Greece on parchments hard." This lofty language sets up expectations of a grand,
momentous subject. However, it is then revealed he is referring merely to "books and
authors of ancient fame" quarrelling in the King's library at St. James's Palace. This ironic
bathos between the noble style and banal subject signals the satirical nature of the work.
The books are given personalities and voices, able to speak and move around the library.
They have gathered into two factions, the Ancients and Moderns. Names like Homer, Plato,
Aristotle, Virgil, and Livy represent the ancients, while Descartes, Milton, Dryden, and other
more contemporary authors represent the moderns. Their dispute mirrors the eighteenth-
century Quarrel of Ancients and Moderns, with the ancients boasting of their unparalleled
artistic achievements and civilizations, while the moderns argue they have improved on
ancient knowledge. The Goddess Criticism, speaking with “awful accent,” tries to end the
dispute by advising they stop fighting and appreciate each other's merits. But both sides
continue asserting their superiority. The ancients claim that modern learning is built wholly
on their foundations, without which the moderns "must in silence hide your diminished
Heads." The moderns reply that they are "a Race by far more learned, more enlighten'd and
more wise" than the outdated ancients. This exaggerates the self-aggrandizing rhetoric both
sides used in the real debate, framed whimsically through the conceit of talking books.
Failing to reconcile the books, Criticism departs. This paves the way for an epic battle, with
the personified volumes taking up arms made of quills, leaves, and bookbinding materials.
The moderns unfurl a banner displaying "a modern bouncing Nymph, with her petticoats
hoisted over her head, by the Air." This literal depiction of "modern" satirizes their claim to
being more enlightened. The ancients charge first, led by Homer, Virgil, and Livy. What
ensues is a mass battle scene packed with mocking heroic couplets, like "Then Aristotle dealt
blow so fell/He crushed the Gothick Wizard's spell." Calling Descartes a "Gothick wizard"
caricatures critiques of modern philosophers as irrational magic practitioners.
Extended metaphors give books wounds absurd for inanimate objects: "Grammaticus self-
collected stood,/And with severity reducing to his mood/All articles of Laws relating to the
Blood,/Pronounc'd UBIQUE so wounded, he must bleed." This burlesques epic conventions
of somber battle sacrifice. Books slam, shred, trample, and spit ink upon each other in mock-
violent fury. The least expected writers celebrate the most minor achievements, like English
poet laureate Sir John Denham "with more than mortal Vigour fill'd/Attacking Waller, wild
with Rage,/Beat down his weaker Works and greater Page." Celebrating minor poets and
dramatists defeating canonical writers heightens the absurdity. The battle continues with
endless pairings lampooning critics who categorize authors into simplistic factions: "On one
side Aristotle led the Train/ Of Tutor ancients.../But on the other side in close Array,/
Descartes the new Philosophy display'd/ Gassendus, Formalists, and Rohault loudly
maintain/ The Honours of their Cause with dearth of Brains." These pseudo-intellectual
name-dropping contests reduce criticism to pretentious posturing. The books' actions grow
increasingly bizarre, like Virgil casting the works of the French poet Chapelain into flames, or
Livy trapping modern historians under his large folio pages, or Gondibert the poem using its
sharp corners to pierce foes "with more Wounds than the Centaurs e'er gave and took/
When with the Lapithae at Table they so crook'dly look'd." The battle continues with no
clear resolution until the goddess Criticism returns to definitively weigh the books' merits on
her gold scales. But the result is inane: the moderns physically weigh more because their
books are heftier. Critics who judge by superficial features like size or age rather than
content are skewered. Criticism proclaims a symbolic moral victory for the ancients since
their wisdom is more substantial, ending the battle. The work concludes by advising readers
to rise above such conflict and appreciate both ancient and modern authors. The goddess
Criticism represents the ideal of objective analysis and even-handed judgment Swift wants
to promote. The entire mock epic serves to satirize scholars who lose perspective in inflated
debates over intellectual factions. By casting the quarrel as a ridiculous battle between
books in a library, Swift critiques pedants obsessed with propping up their own reputations
through shallow comparisons, rather than substantively evaluating authors' merit. The epic
form elevates a petty conflict to mock those who treat it as equally grand. Through parody,
Swift cautions against the pretensions and blindness that transform scholarly inquiry into
self-serving contests.