George Eliot's Romola will come to those who know something both of Savonarola's Florence and of the development of thought in the middle of the nineteenth century. Scott's Ivanhoe will mean more to the reader who is familiar with Norman England and the Romantic Movement. Many of the beauties of Paradise Lost will be hidden from those who are not versed in Biblical and classical story and who do not know the Puritanism and the humanism of the seventeenth century. Paradise Lost and Absalom and Achitophel and The Rape of the Lock will not be any less great as poems if we are ignorant of the historical and social circumstances that gave them birth; they will only be less great for us, and we shall be so much poorer critics. Ours is the loss, not theirs. The enrichment and enlargement of our enjoyment is worth any effort that may be necessary. These approaches to critical appreciation of literature are interesting and helpful roads to travel. They are especially important when the book to be considered belongs to an earlier period, particularly when we are concerned with its thought or its form. Human emotions remain_much the same throughout the centuries, but human ideas and aesthetic taste are constantly changing. Hence the expression of an outworn theology, as in Paradise Lost, or the results of an alien taste in literary form, as in the work of Dryden and Pope, may obscure for the uninformed modern reader the real beauties inherent in the poetry. The study of the history of thought may illuminate them. The approaches are not un-useful in evaluating contemporary work as well, especially if that work reflects a certain movement in thought or artistic theory, such as Freudian psychology or imagism, or if it gives a picture of an unfamiliar social environment. X x But none of these approaches should be overworked, and it should always be remembered that the main object of criticism is the book, its content and its form. Too little of our study of literature today in schools and colleges is concerned with the literature itself. Scholarship and teaching too frequently degenerate into the amassing and inculcation of information about books and their authors, and fail to realize and make clear that such information is of value mainly as it helps us to understand, appreciate, and enjoy.18 With as large an equipment then as possible of knowledge about the life and mind of the author and about the historical and social background of the book, the critic will turn to the content and form of the book for his real work of evaluation and judgment. What he demands from a book will be determined by his definition of literature. As we shall see in the next chapter, we cannot accept as final proof any of the external indications of literary value, such as survival or wideness of appeal; we look for the real values in the book itself. As far as content is concerned, we ask that the author shall have something to say that is worth saying, and the values of content seem to fall into three large classes, intellectual, ethical, and emotional. About the relative importance of these values, and even about the necessity of including all or any of them, there will be differences of opinion. These matters belong, however, to later chapters. There will be less disagreement in regard to the value of the expression of the book, the imaginative power which enables the writer by means of treatment, construction, and style to transmit to the reader those ex 13 The familiar histories of literature may be partially responsible for this, especially in high school teaching. They inevitably-and rightlycombine biographical and historical information with a slight amount of criticism. periences which he feels are worth setting down in writing. Again there may be differences of opinion as to the relative importance of the value of content and the value of expression; to some, the latter is the be-all and the end-all of criticism. But in order to cover comprehensively the whole of criticism, all these matters must be considered, and careful consideration should bring us to the conclusion that all are important, although undoubtedly not equally so. The determination of the nature and the relative importance of these values is one of the tasks that lie before us. The relation of criticism to other forms of writing is an interesting problem. Someone has maliciously said. that a critic is a creative writer who has failed. This statement has the modicum of truth in it that such generalizations usually have. Pope puts it: Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd; Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last. But we are speaking of good critics, not those who "turn Critics in their own defence." Can the old distinction between criticism and creation be maintained, or should criticism itself be called creative? Is it an art or a science? Is the critic himself an artist or merely the manager or producer who introduces the artist and his work to the public. Writers vary in their answers to these questions. Mr. Mencken, for example, compares the function of the critic with that of a catalyzer in chemistry.14 Amiel says, "Criticism is above all a gift, an intuition, a matter of tact and flair; it cannot be taught or demonstrated,it is an art." 15 Howells, on the other hand, as we have 14 "Criticism of Criticism of Criticism," Prejudices, First Series, pp. 20-21. *Journal, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward, 2nd edition (London, Macmillan, 1915), p. 250. seen, compares the work of the critic with that of the scientist who classifies and analyzes. Alfred Kerr, in Das Neue Drama, said, "The true critic is ever a poet, a creator." ." 16 Mr. Spingarn has introduced a term, "creative criticism," which shows on which side of the dispute he stands: his essay on "The New Criticism" is an eloquent justification of the placing of criticism side by side with the work of the novelist or the poet. "The æsthetic critic," he claims, "in his moments of highest power, rises to heights where he is at one with the creator whom he is interpreting." 17 But Mr. Galsworthy says that the critic "is absolutely tied to the terms of the work that he is interpreting, whereas the very essence of creation is that roving, gathering, discovering process of mind and spirit which goes before the commencement of a work of art." 18 And John Gould Fletcher once said that criticism was a reversal of the successful experiment which produced the work of art itself. Again the way out of this wilderness seems to be the middle road. There is something of the scientist certainly in the critic, if our analysis of the critical process is correct, something of the investigator and the gatherer of facts. But (just as there is in the great scientist, as a matter of fact) there is something of the creator also, even in the most judicial of critics. No one could deny that the great impressionistic critic, like Anatole France, is a creator. But even those who do not belong to that school should be artists. In order to understand and feel and enjoy the charm of a work of art, one must have something of the temperament that responds to beauty as the 10 Quoted in Lewisohn, A Modern Book of Criticism, p. 82. 18 Quoted by Spingarn in Appendix to Creative Criticism, p. 133. See also "Vague Thoughts on Art," in The Inn of Tranquillity (Scribner, 1926), pp. 268-269. artist's soul responds. Someone has said that every man who enjoys poetry is himself a poet. And in order to interpret to the world the work of art which he has enjoyed, he must have something of the power of expression which belongs to the artist; otherwise his criticism would be a dead thing, and all the raptures of his own experience would be useless to any but himself. "To interpret this charm imaginatively," it will be remembered, was the second part of the function of the critic as set forth by the spokesman of the appreciative school.19 This scientific-creative critic is perhaps a superman. Certainly he must be endowed with a large equipment of characteristics, knowledges, and powers. Let us see what this ideal critic must be like, and then remember, for our own comfort, that no man is perfect and that a man's reach should exceed his grasp. The road to good criticism is no easy one. Centuries ago Longinus said, "For the judgment of literature is the final aftergrowth of much endeavor." 20 It is a temptation, in writing of the characteristics of the good critic, to quote long passages from Pope, who compressed into the couplets of his Essay on Criticism much practical and sensible advice that is just as valid today as it was in the eighteenth century. His summary is especially good and comprehensive, and will serve as an introduction. But where's the man who counsel can bestow, Not dully prepossess'd nor blindly right; Tho' learn'd, well bred; and tho' well bred sincere; Who to a friend his faults can freely show, 19 See p. 9. "On the Sublime, Sec. VI. |