The Languages of Criticism and the Structure of Poetry 9781442653252

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The languages of criticism and the structure of poetry

THE ALEXANDE R LECTURE S The Alexander Lectureship was founded in honour of Professor W. J. Alexander, who held the Chair of English at University College from 1889 to 1926. Each year the Lectureship brings to the University a distinguished scholar or critic to give a course of lectures on a subject related to English Literature.

R. S . C R A N E

The languages of criticism and the structure of poetry UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS • 1953

Copyright, Canada, 1953, by University of Toronto Press Reprinted 1957 Reprinted 1964, 1967 in the United States of America

THE ALEXANDE R LECTURE S Unless otherwise indicated, the lectures have been published by the University of Toronto Press. 1929-30 L . F . CAZAMIAN : Parallelis m i n th e recen t developmen t of English an d Frenc h literatur e These lecture s wer e include d i n th e author' s Criticism in the Making (Macmillan , 1929) 1930-31 H . W . GARROD : The Study of Poetry (Clarendon , 1936 ) 1931-32 IRVIN G BABBITT : Wordswort h an d moder n poetr y Included a s "Th e Primitivism o f Wordsworth " i n th e author' s On Being Creative (Houghton , 1932 ) 1932-33 W . A. CRAIGIE : The Northern Element in English Literature (1933) 1933-34 H . J . C . GRIERSON : Si r Walte r Scot t Included i n Sir Walter Scott, Bart. (Constable , 1938 ) 1934-35 G . G . SEDGEWICK : Of Irony, Especially in Drama (1934 , 1948) 1935-36 E . E . STOLL : Shakespeare's Young Lovers (Oxford , 1937) 1936-37 F . B . SNYDER : Robert Burns, His Personality, His Reputation, and His Art (1936 ) 1937-38 D. NICHO L SMITH : Some Observations on Eighteenth-Century Poetry (1937 ) 1938-39 CARLETO N W . STANLEY : Matthew Arnold (1938 ) 1939-40 J . DOUGLA S N. BUSH : The Renaissance and English Humanism (1939 )

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1940-41 N o lectures given. 1941-42 H . J . DAVIS : Stella, a Gentlewoman of the Eighteenth Century (Macmillan , 1942) 1942-43 H . GRANVILLE-BARKER : Coriolanu s Included i n th e author' s Prefaces to Shakespeare: Vol. II (Princeton, 1947) 1943-44 F . P. WILSON: Elizabethan and Jacobean (Clarendon , 1945) 1944-45 F . O . MATTHIESSEN : Henry James, the Major Phase (Oxford , 1944) 1945-46 S . C . CHEW : The Virtues Reconciled, an Iconographicd Study (1947 ) 1946-47 MARJORI E HOP E NICOLSON : Voyages to the Moon (Macmillan, 1948) 1947-48 G . B . HARBISON : Shakespearea n Traged y Included in the author' s Shakespeare's Tragedies (Routledg e an d Kegan Paul , 1951 ) 1948-49 E . M . W . TILLYARD : Shakespeare's Problem Plays (1949 ) 1949-50 E . K . BROWN : Rhythm in the Novel (1950 ) 1950-51 MALCOL M W. WALLACE : English Character and the English Literary Tradition (1952 ) 1951-52 R . S. CRANE : The Languages of Criticism and the Structure of Poetry (1953 ) 1952-53 N o lectures given . 1953-54 F . M. SALTER: Mediaeval Drama in Chester (1955 ) 1954-55 ALFRE D HARBAGE : Theatre for Shakespeare (1955 ) 1955-56 LEO N EDEL : Literary Biography (1957 ) 1956-57 James Sutherland : On English Prose (1957 ) 1957-58 Harry Levin: The Question of Hamlet (Oxford , 1959) 1958-59 Bertrand H. Bronson: In Search of Chaucer (1960 ) 1959-60 Geoffrey Bullough : Minor of Minds: Changing Psychological Beliefs in English Poetry (1962 )

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TO M Y COLLEAGUES in the University of Toronto, Easter Term, 1952

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PREFACE THIS BOO K I S a considerabl y revise d versio n of th e Alexande r Lectures for 1951-52 which I gave at the University of Toronto in March o f thi s year . I hav e kep t th e origina l lectur e for m an d much o f th e origina l tex t bu t hav e restore d severa l passage s I was compelled to omit in delivery and added a good many others especially in the first and last parts . It is always presumptuous in this psychoanalytical ag e to aspire to kno w more abou t one' s ow n secret thought s tha n other s ca n easily infe r fro m one' s printe d words . I canno t fee l sure , there fore, that I am aware of all the prejudices that lurk beneath what I hav e bee n tryin g to say in these lectures . I t ma y well b e tha t in takin g th e positio n wit h respec t t o critica l principle s whic h I call pluralistic, I will be thought by some readers to be far gone, in spite of myself, in scepticism and by other readers to be merely concealing thu s a dee p desir e fo r authorit y an d metaphysica l certitude. It ma y well be, too, that in attempting t o discriminat e different kind s of problems and method s in criticism, I will seem to hav e falle n int o th e erro r o f thos e "rationalists " wh o assume that th e concret e multifariousnes s of life o r literature ca n be en closed neatl y an d finally in ordered scheme s of ideas. I ca n only say that if I understand wha t is meant by these various attitudes , they ar e all attitudes which , i n my conscious moments, I deepl y abhor, whether they show themselves in criticism or in philosophy, politics, or morals; and I shoul d be unhapp y i f anything I hav e said i n thi s book should b e suppose d t o len d encouragemen t to ix

any o f them. At the sam e time I d o not wis h t o avoi d responsi bility fo r th e severa l long-standin g prejudice s o f a somewha t different sor t which I d o clearly recognize ar e present i n what I have written. The first is a prejudice whic h I doubtles s ow e to the fac t tha t I hav e bee n educate d a s a schola r an d hav e spen t mos t o f my life in university teaching. It i s natural for me to think of criticism in th e contex t no t o f literar y journalis m o r o f genera l cultura l discussion but o f humanistic learning—as a form o f inquiry to b e cultivated i n th e sam e questioning spirit , fo r th e sak e o f a dis interested understandin g and appreciatio n o f its object s in thei r own natures , a s is proper t o th e stud y of history, language, an d ideas, an d wit h a n approac h t o th e sam e rigour o f analysi s and statement. I shoul d wan t t o distinguish , wit h Northro p Fry e i n his essa y o n "Th e Functio n o f Criticis m a t th e Presen t Time, " between th e criticis m which thus aspire s t o b e " a learning" an d two othe r kinds : th e criticis m tha t take s th e for m o f cultivate d causerie, afte r th e manne r o f Hazlitt , Sainte-Beuve , Matthe w Arnold, and their many descendants; and the criticism that results from th e intereste d applicatio n t o literature o f general system s of religious, philosophic, o r political ideas , afte r th e manne r of th e later Eliot, the Marxists, Liberals, Humanists , Kirkegaardians, and Existentialists; thoug h I should not insist on calling the 'learned" criticism, as Professor Frye does , "genuine criticism " o r "criticis m proper." Th e prerequisites , techniques , an d end s o f th e thre e kinds ar e no t th e same , and thei r utilitie s fo r readers o f literar y works ar e o f ver y differen t orders ; al l ar e goo d thing s whe n responsibly done—tha t is , wit h a seriou s concer n fo r principle s and facts; and I can find no defensible grounds on which any one of the m ca n b e give n precedenc e i n intrinsi c valu e ove r th e others, sinc e an y suc h rankin g presupposes—wha t can neve r b e the case—tha t th e questio n o f wha t criticis m i n genera l i s o r should be has been authoritativel y settled . M y attachment t o th e first kind is thus a prejudice, but not , I believe, a n invidious one; I hav e writte n wit h thi s kin d chiefl y i n vie w becaus e i t i s th e kind in whose prosperity I have the most immediate interest; bu t I d o not oppose it, i n an y polemic way, to th e other s o r indee d to an y manne r o f dealin g wit h literatur e whateve r tha t goe s x

beyond mer e dogmatic assertion o r the reductio n o f criticism t o a journalisti c pla y wit h curren t commonplace s an d sectaria n slogans. A secon d prejudic e tha t I a m clearl y awar e o f i s reflecte d i n what will surely seem to many the undue importance which these lectures assig n to questions o f critical method an d theory . I cal l this a prejudice because the final defence I shoul d have to make of i t would be simply , I suppose , that suc h questions happe n t o be greatl y t o m y taste , o r a t an y rat e tha t the y hav e alway s forced themselve s upo n m e wheneve r I hav e trie d t o estimat e the meanin g and validit y o f what eithe r I o r someon e else ha s written abou t an y subject. I cal l i t a prejudice , also , because I recognize tha t ther e i s a kin d o f criticism—sometimes , a s i n Matthew Arnold , of grea t excellenc e an d power—whic h i s abl e to d o it s wor k with a minimu m o f theoretica l inquir y int o th e nature of its objects , its controllin g principles bein g identical, so to speak , wit h th e mora l insigh t an d literar y tac t o f th e criti c himself. This, however, is the criticis m of genius, and wha t holds true o f it doe s no t necessaril y hol d true , t o th e sam e exten t a t least, o f th e criticis m whic h mos t o f u s attemp t t o practise , i n which considerations of the objectiv e subject-matter of the critic' s discourse ar e o f centra l concern ; an d wit h respec t t o criticis m of this more common sort—the criticism with which I mainly deal in the followin g pages— I d o not believe tha t I nee d t o fal l bac k upon my ultimate defence. Let me try to say, then, what I thin k can be said for a preoccupation with theory and method in criti cism i n oppositio n t o th e counter-prejudic e tha t manifest s itself either i n a thorough-goin g impatience wit h anythin g that i s not "concrete" in literary discussio n or in the assertio n that criticis m is not nearl y s o dependent o n theory a s the devotee s o f general principles appea r t o think . I n th e contex t o f these lectures , th e question i s really a double one, as it relates, o n the on e hand, to theorizing abou t literatur e o r poetry and , o n the othe r hand , t o theorizing abou t criticis m itself . It can be said, first of all, that, whether w e like it or not, theory of som e sort i s a n unavoidabl e necessity wheneve r w e procee d to se t down , even i n th e mos t particularize d practica l criticism , statements abou t literar y works . For i n th e makin g of any suc h xi

statements, an d stil l mor e of a connecte d serie s o f them, w e in evitably bring into play three variable factors: our perceptions of the concret e tex t before u s a s an object of common sense understanding o r historica l learning ; ou r assumption s as t o th e kin d of thing , critically speaking , it is—tha t it is a poem, for example , or a lyric poem, or a drama; and th e powe r we have—ou r sensibility an d taste—t o joi n th e othe r tw o together i n a n intelligibl e and appropriat e way . The secon d of these factors i s the peculia r object o f theory; an d ho w essentia l thi s facto r i s ca n b e see n if we conside r wha t a grea t differenc e i t woul d make , fo r every thing we might write abou t a given poem, whether w e assumed its nature to be that (say ) of a statement communicatin g something to us, or of an art work to be responded t o emotionally for its ow n sak e a s it s constructio n dictates , o r o f a composit e o f memorable passages , o r o f somethin g tha t make s u s fee l th e presence behind it of a distinctive mind or culture. It i s clear, on this view of the matter, that there can be no good practical criti cism in which all three factors—particular knowledge , conceptual definition an d analysis , an d sensitiv e response—ar e no t presen t and operative , eac h in its best possibl e state; an d i t i s therefore a fals e analysi s tha t isolate s an y on e o r tw o o f the m a s all important or sets up an antithesis between the "concrete" elements of knowledg e and sensibilit y an d th e "abstract " element o f theoretical commitment . This muc h is true : tha t withou t sensibilit y and taste , no criticis m ca n be goo d a t all , howeve r learne d th e critic o r deepl y verse d i n theory ; i t i s als o tru e tha t w e prais e certain critics , an d rightly , fo r th e excellenc e o f their particula r perceptions whos e state d theorie s o f poetr y see m t o u s narro w or confused . Thes e ar e wholl y just discriminations; bu t the y d o not warran t an y genera l inferenc e tha t concer n wit h theor y i s either negligibl e or , stil l less , a hindranc e t o th e operation s of the other two causes. Dryden is a much better critic than Thomas Rymer, for all the latter's reputed skil l in theory, but ther e i s no implication i n thi s o f th e relativ e unimportanc e in criticis m o f general principles ; fo r i t i s surel y the cas e that Rymer' s theory is as bad a s the tast e with which he applies it, an d that Dryden, along with his superior sensitivity, is also by far the better theorist of th e two , and migh t have been a n eve n better practica l criti c xii

than he i s had hi s theory been o f a more sharply discriminating kind. Al l such disjunctions , I a m boun d t o say , see m t o m e t o distort th e facts, and t o have, besides, a n abstract an d academic character such as can lead only to vain disputes without showing critics how to be better than they are. This is not to say, though, that we cannot properly take one or more of our three factors as constants in any particular discussion—a s I hav e taken taste an d sensibility as a constant in these lectures—and centre our attention on th e variabilit y o f th e other s whil e i n n o wa y implyin g tha t what i s lef t ou t i s les s importan t fo r th e practisin g criti c tha n what i s included . Theory, then , i s inescapable, bu t i t ma y o f course be presen t in an y critica l writing , not a s explici t an d argue d assertion , bu t merely a s a comple x of unstated assumptions and habit s o f procedure. Ther e hav e bee n grea t critic s o f bot h kinds : ther e i s Johnson, fo r instance, whose critical syste m must be inferre d in large part from th e remarkably systematic operations of his mind on particula r literar y questions ; an d ther e is , a t th e othe r ex treme, Coleridge , fo r whom the lon g philosophical preliminaries of the Biographia Literaria were an indispensable means to saying cogently wha t h e wante d t o sa y abou t poeti c dictio n an d th e poetry o f Wordsworth. Tastes wil l differ , bu t I canno t think of any objectiv e criterio n tha t wil l justif y u s i n sayin g tha t th e practical criticism of either one of these two very different writer s is intrinsicall y bette r tha n tha t o f th e other . Whethe r w e tak e time out to talk in general terms about the natur e of our literary objects o r merel y assum e this an d g o o n wit h th e busines s of making particular judgments, is clearly, therefore, only a question of which of the two courses we think more useful for our purposes at a given time. If I have taken the first course, it is mainly, as I have tried t o explain in the opening lecture, because I think that we are no w faced wit h a situatio n i n criticis m in whic h a little more explicit inquiry into principles migh t well lead t o better or at leas t mor e varied critica l practice . I a m encouraged i n this view by what has happened i n othe r fields. I canno t but thin k that th e cul t o f the "concrete " in con temporary criticism—when the "concrete" is opposed to a concern with theoretica l analysis—i s a counterpar t o f th e stat e o f affair s xiii

in medicin e whe n th e so-calle d "empirics " ruled ; an d w e al l know that the period o f greatest progres s in detailed observatio n and understandin g i n th e medica l art s bega n onl y afte r thei r reign wa s ended. I t ha s been so , too, with th e notabl e advance s of the present century in physics, genetics, psychology, economics, political science , an d linguistics : the y hav e al l bee n precede d and accompanie d by theoretica l revivals ; an d i n an y university the subject s which are no w most alive ar e thos e i n which ther e is the least indifference t o general ideas and the least inclinatio n to find an incompatibilit y betwee n a concer n fo r the m an d th e pursuit of particular facts . To say this i s not t o aspir e in an y way to assimilat e criticism , in its concept s o r methods or the characte r o f its results , t o an y of thes e othe r subjects . Th e poin t i s not tha t w e shoul d tr y t o be like the sciences in any of their distinctive aspect s bu t merel y that w e can perhaps come to have the sam e kind of history they have had by going about our tasks in similar though not identica l ways. I n spit e o f everything , w e canno t avoi d commitment s to theory; we may keep them hidden fro m ourselves , with no great risk, possibly , so long a s ou r genera l concept s ar e adequat e t o all th e particula r thing s w e want t o do , but wit h considerabl e risk, i f thi s i s no t th e case , o f writing confusedl y o r o f shuttin g ourselves of f from observation s we migh t otherwis e mak e or of lapsing int o stagnatio n an d routine . Goo d a s ou r criticis m ma y be now , i t i s surel y no t goo d enough ; an d i t woul d therefor e seem the better course to try to emulate the most active minds in these othe r field s an d t o brin g ou r commitment s out int o th e open, without fea r tha t ou r sensibility wil l b e impaire d thereb y or ou r capacit y fo r dealing with particulars interfere d with . W e might then find that we had misse d many significant discriminations in our most studied author s merely by no t having had th e terms i n ou r possessio n by whic h the y coul d b e made ; and w e might discover also what I should like to call the duplicity of the "concrete"—the strikin g fact , whic h muc h contemporar y criti cism illustrates, that any attempt, in the name of concreteness, to get alon g with onl y a few concepts an d distinction s i n practica l criticism inevitabl y result s i n makin g our statement s abou t par ticular work s excessivel y general an d abstract .

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The grea t dange r i n al l thi s is , o f course , tha t i n becomin g more overtl y theoretica l w e ma y becom e mor e closel y wedde d than w e otherwis e migh t b e t o th e particula r versio n o f ou r subject-matter which , fo r on e reason or another , w e hav e mad e our own . Ther e i s likel y t o b e a certai n dogmati c rin g i n an y appeal, i n practica l criticism , t o genera l principles , an d ofte n enough th e dogmatis m i s mor e tha n a fashio n o f statement . Nothing woul d b e gained , naturally , i f th e reviva l o f critica l theory I a m urging resulted merel y in a further multiplicatio n of doctrinaire critics . Bu t the safeguar d against thi s i s not, I think , to remain innocent of theory but t o se e to i t tha t ou r theorizin g is don e i n a spiri t o f philosophic compariso n between th e prin ciples we ourselves prefer and the principle s whic h othe r critics , past an d present , hav e used , fo r th e sak e o f discovering a s pre cisely a s we ca n th e source s of the difference s amon g them an d the exten t t o whic h thes e difference s ca n b e resolved . Suc h a comparative examination of critical concepts and method s would not lea d immediatel y t o mor e or bette r practica l criticism , bu t it woul d have, I think , a number o f indirect benefit s tha t coul d be a s important in the lon g run. It woul d serve as a discourage ment to vain sectarian disputes between critics of different school s and between critics and scholars, as a way to a more sympathetic understanding o f wha t othe r critic s ar e doin g an d henc e t o a fuller us e of their findings , a s a stimulu s to self-criticis m and t o reconsideration o f ou r cherishe d bu t perhap s onl y half-tru e positions, and , generally , a s a powerfu l challeng e t o u s t o rise , at leas t occasionally , above ou r ow n limited intellectua l habits . These, i t is true, w e can never transcend completely , an d i t is probably bette r tha t w e cannot, sinc e how , otherwise , coul d we ever ge t anythin g done ? W e mus t al l remai n prejudice d b y temperament o r training with respec t t o wha t we want to d o in criticism and , therefore, also, with respec t t o th e kin d o f critica l theory an d metho d w e prefe r t o use ; an d th e bes t w e ca n d o is to try not to exalt our prejudices in these matter s into religious dogmas or to expect them to be shared by more than a reasonable number o f ou r contemporaries . Th e characte r o f m y ow n bia s has been fairly clear to me for many years. It amounts , negativel y speaking, t o a fascinate d distrus t fo r tha t variet y o f theorizin g xv

about th e concret e phenomen a o f huma n affairs , whethe r i n criticism, politics, morals, or history, which I have called i n these lectures, afte r Davi d Hume , "abstract." I t wa s th e firs t kin d of critical an d historical theorizing t o which I wa s introduced, i n a Hegelian form , a s a student, and I have never cease d t o feel th e charm o f it s schemati c symmetr y an d neatness . I ha d hardl y learned t o practis e i t i n a n elementar y way, however , befor e I began to have sceptical doubts; it was not at any rate, I soon saw, the kin d o f metho d tha t woul d giv e m e answer s o f the sort s I wanted to the sorts of questions I felt more and more impelled t o ask abou t historical event s and literar y works ; and so , while th e fascination ha s persisted , th e distrus t ha s progressivel y grown . I a m persuaded philosophically that m y distrust is one which no one els e i s oblige d t o share , a t leas t i n relatio n t o th e metho d itself a s distinc t fro m inappropriat e application s o f it ; i t i s a n indispensable method for getting a t one aspect of the truth about things if that i s the aspec t on e wants to ge t at ; m y difficulty ha s been al l alon g tha t I hav e wante d t o kno w somethin g quit e different. Fo r wha t ha s chiefl y intereste d m e i n a positiv e way , in al l the fields in which I have tried t o study, has not been th e patterns o f ideas which particular thing s reflect bu t th e immediate causes , in th e litera l sens e o f tha t word , whic h hav e mad e the things what they are and rendered the m capable of affectin g our mind s a s the y do , an d mor e especiall y thos e cause s whic h involve the efforts o f human beings, whether politicians, scientists , philosophers, or artists, t o solv e successfully th e particula r prob lems inheren t i n thei r situation s an d tasks . I hav e therefor e sought for principles an d methods of inquiry that might give me, as full y a s possible, knowledg e of this kind an d provid e a basis , at th e sam e time , fo r judgment s of valu e appropriat e t o th e various sort s o f end s whic h suc h a consideratio n woul d reveal . I have discovered these in no one source, ancient o r modern; and if i n thes e lecture s I emphasiz e wha t I hav e foun d usefu l i n Aristotle rather than in (say ) Longinus or Johnson or the masters of historica l criticis m or philosophic analysis , that is because my subject her e i s th e structur e o f poetr y rathe r tha n an y o f th e many othe r aspect s o f the literar y art s tha t len d themselve s t o exploration i n broadl y simila r causa l terms . I hav e though t i t xvi

only fai r t o cal l thi s tast e fo r th e litera l an d causa l i n criticis m a prejudice, since I know of no way in which it can be defended , on ultimat e philosophi c grounds , agains t othe r differen t critica l tastes. I t ca n be discussed , therefore, only as one valid approac h among others, an d b e recommende d for what i t ca n accomplis h only t o thos e who , like myself , wan t t o accomplis h thi s kin d of thing. After wha t I hav e jus t said, I canno t avoi d mentionin g grate fully th e nam e o f th e scholar , thoug h h e woul d probabl y hav e hesitated t o approve man y of the thing s I sa y in thi s book , who first set me on the wa y o f thinking which i t reflects—m y teache r in medieval history at th e Universit y of Michigan, the lat e Earl e Wilbur Dow . My most immediate an d particular debts , however , are t o th e friend s an d colleague s a t th e Universit y o f Chicag o with who m I collaborate d las t yea r i n a volum e calle d Critics and Criticism: Ancient and Modern; th e man y references to their work in my notes sum up onl y in the meagerest wa y what I owe to them , an d particularl y t o Richar d McKeo n an d Elde r Olson , for guidanc e an d correctio n durin g man y years ; thes e friend s will not , I hope , hol d themselve s responsible fo r m y error s an d confusions. I hav e learne d a grea t dea l als o fro m m y student s both a t th e Universit y o f Chicag o an d a t th e Universit y o f Toronto, an d som e of the m wil l doubtles s recogniz e themselve s in a numbe r o f m y points an d illustrations . An d finally , among those a t th e Universit y o f Toronto t o who m I hav e venture d t o dedicate thes e lectures , I mus t giv e specia l thanks , fo r muc h benevolent encouragement , t o A . S. P. Woodhouse ' and Gordo n Roper. R. S. C. Ephraim, Wisconsin August, 1952

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS THIS BOO K owe s much in detail to the suggestions and criticism s of m y friend s Professor s M . H . Abram s an d W . R . Keast , o f Cornell University , an d Joh n Lucas , o f Carleto n College , wh o have bee n s o kind a s t o rea d i t i n manuscrip t o r proof . I wis h to expres s m y gratitude als o to th e followin g for thei r generou s permission t o quot e fro m copyrighte d materials : The Bollinge n Foundation , Inc. , Ne w York , fo r permissio n t o quote from Contributions to Analytical Psychology, by C. G. Jung. Mr. Robert Graves, for permission to quot e tw o stanza s of his poem "T o Juan at th e Winte r Solstice " (Poems 1938-1945). Harcourt, Brac e an d Company , New York , fo r permissio n t o quote fro m The Well Wrought Urn, by Cleant h Brook s (copy right 1947) . New Directions, Norfolk , Connecticut , fo r permission to quot e from The Anatomy of Nonsense, by Yvo r Winter s (copyrigh t 1943 b y Ne w Directions) . Longmans, Green and Company , New York, for permission t o quote fro m Character and Motive in Shakespeare, b y J . I . M . Stewart (copyrigh t 1949) .

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CONTENTS PREFACE i

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS xi

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The multiplicity of critical languages 3 Poetic structure in the language of Aristotle 3

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The languages of contemporary criticism 8

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Conceptions of poetic structure in contemporary criticism 11

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Toward a more adequate criticism of poetic structure 14

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NOTES 19

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INDEX 20

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The languages of criticism and the structure of poetry

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The multiplicity of critical languages I HAV E THOUGH T tha t I could best show my sense of the grea t honour which the invitation t o give these lectures has brought t o me by selecting a subject as close as possible t o those central an d permanent issues of literary study from which Professor Alexander, as I hav e ofte n bee n told , neve r allowe d himsel f t o stra y ver y far. Th e problem o f the structur e o f poetry, i t has seemed t o me, is such a subject, especially when the word "poetry" is used, as I shall use it throughout what I have to say, to stand for the whole range o f artisti c creatio n i n words . Th e structur e o f poetry , i n this larg e sens e o f th e term , wa s th e dominatin g interes t o f Aristotle in the beginnings of systematic criticism; and there have been fe w critic s i n an y subsequen t period , howeve r grea t thei r concern wit h othe r questions , wh o hav e no t foun d i t necessar y to deal , i f onl y subordinately, wit h th e obviou s fact tha t poem s are ordered composition s exhibiting characteristics whic h requir e to be discussed unde r suc h heads a s "form," "synthesis," "unity, " "disposition," "arrangement, " "construction, " o r "design. " And i t is a further sig n of the perennial importance of the questio n tha t it ha s agai n become , fo r man y o f th e mos t influential critic s of our day, the focal problem of their "new" poetics, the preoccupa tion whic h appear s t o the m t o distinguis h thei r inquirie s int o poetry mos t sharpl y fro m thos e o f critic s i n th e pas t Wherea s earlier critics , w e ar e ofte n told , ha d erroneousl y assume d tha t the values of poems could be identified with the qualities o f their parts an d ha d concentrate d thei r observations , accordingly , o n 3

the "local" beauties of language and sentimen t or, as in the olde r criticism o f Shakespeare , o n th e merel y huma n attribute s o f characters considere d apar t fro m th e plays in which they appear , the best critic s o f the twentiet h centur y have reversed thi s view . They hav e discovere d tha t poems , o r a t leas t goo d poems , ar e patterned wholes , the parts of which necessarily have "an organic relation t o eac h other, " so that poem s are adequatel y describe d only "i n term s o f structure, " an d th e prope r critica l questio n about any element in a poem is "not whether it is in itself pleasing , or agreeable, o r valuable, or 'poetical,' but whethe r it works with the other element s to create th e effec t intende d b y the poet." 1 It is not strange , therefore, that th e firs t task of critical theor y ha s been take n b y man y o f thes e critic s t o b e th e definitio n o f th e nature o f the "structure " b y whic h poetr y i s differentiate d fro m other use s o f language , o r tha t the y hav e foun d i n th e ter m "structural analysis " th e mos t appropriat e descriptio n o f thei r dealings wit h individua l poems , novels , an d plays , o r tha t th e pages o f thei r book s an d essay s hav e bee n liberall y sprinkle d with word s lik e "organi c unity, " "pattern, " "rhythm, " "move ment," "themati c development, " "recurren t imagery, " an d "tota l meaning." My subject is thus both ancien t an d up-to-date; bu t tha t ver y fact, while guaranteeing its significance for literary and humanistic studies, might well suggest that nothing particularly new or useful can be sai d about it. Afte r s o many centuries o f discussion, what can no w be added ? Littl e enough , I shoul d agree , i f wha t i s to be attempted i s a direct answer, in didactic terms, to the question of wha t poeti c structur e i n general , o r i n an y o f th e severa l branches o f poetry , reall y is . Fo r tha t i s th e for m whic h th e problem has taken in the writings of all the critic s who have considered i t fro m th e Greek s to our time. And the resul t has been , and i s stil l today , a chao s o f solution s o f th e mos t varie d an d apparently contradictor y kinds , i n th e fac e o f whic h i t mus t surely see m futile o r presumptuous to loo k fo r stil l another . It i s hard, indeed, to think of any aspect o f the questio n abou t which critics have not radically disagreed. We read Aristotle and Mr. Cleanth Brook s and note that matter s of structure, for them , are all-important , eac h o f th e othe r term s an d distinction s the y

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find it necessar y to us e bein g subsume d in on e way o r anothe r under this , s o that thei r whol e discussion is directed , thoug h i n quite divergen t fashions , t o problem s of how poems are pu t to gether. And the n w e rea d o n an d discove r tha t fo r man y more critics, bot h ancien t an d modern , th e ide a o f structure , i n th e sense o f the artisti c organizatio n of materials, eithe r ha s a rela tively minor significance in their theories of poetry (a s i n Samuel Johnson, for instance) o r else plays the rol e of a secondary term in a pair o f concepts o f which th e primar y concept—t o mention only a fe w examples—i s sometime s "substance " (a s i n A . C . Bradley), sometime s "function" (a s i n Kennet h Burke) , sometimes "texture " (a s i n Joh n Crow e Ransom) , sometimes eve n 'life" (a s i n th e celebrate d debat e o f H . G . Well s wit h Henr y James). The difference s ar e equall y striking , also, between thos e critics, such as Aristotle, fo r whom poetry exhibit s a multiplicit y of structure s no t capabl e o f reductio n t o an y singl e typ e an d those critics , lik e Cleant h Brook s again , wh o insis t tha t th e essential structur e o f poetr y i s one , an d devot e thei r effort s t o defining the common pattern whic h organizes works as dissimilar in othe r respect s a s The Odyssey an d The Waste Land, "Tears, Idle Tears," and The Rape of the Lock.2 Nor d o thes e las t tw o groups form homogeneous schools. For critics of the first group the structural principle s o f tragedy, for example , are necessaril y dis tinct fro m thos e of comedy or lyric, but i t ha s seldo m happened, in thi s traditio n o f criticism , tha t th e distinctiv e structur e o f tragedy has been give n exactl y the sam e statement i n the many formulations o f it attempte d sinc e the Poetics; an d th e diversit y has been no less great among the critic s o f the secon d group , in their searc h fo r th e universa l principl e o f structur e whic h dis tinguishes poetry as a unitary whole from othe r things. Whethe r the essential structure of poetry is taken to be many or one, what it i s thought t o b e i n an y particular instanc e obviousl y depends on th e characte r o f th e term s i n whic h i t i s defined ; an d thes e have been chosen sometimes on the assumption that poeti c structure is sui generis and hence must be analysed by means of terms —such a s Aristotle' s plot , character , thought , peripety , recogni tion, an d th e like—tha t hav e technica l meaning s restricte d t o poetics alone ; and sometimes on the assumption that its nature is

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such that an adequate descriptio n o f it i s possible onl y throug h analogies borrowe d fro m othe r art s o r fields of knowledge. Th e great majority of critics have held the second view; and inasmuch as the possibilitie s of finding illuminating analogie s fo r anythin g are unlimited , structure s o f th e mos t varie d kind s hav e bee n attributed t o poetr y i n genera l o r t o it s particula r species , de pending o n whether th e term s use d i n constitutin g the m hav e been draw n (say ) fro m grammar , o r fro m logic , o r fro m paint ing, o r fro m music , o r fro m analytica l psychology , o r (a s ver y frequently i n our day ) fro m th e anthropologica l stud y o f ritual , folktale, o r myth. Such divergence s i n theor y ar e boun d t o b e reflecte d i n th e judgments of critics o n individual works ; an d ther e ca n b e fe w of u s who , afte r examinin g wha t differen t critic s hav e t o sa y about the structure of any poem, are not often tempte d to exclaim that surel y these commentator s could no t al l have been readin g the sam e text! A s compare d wit h Hamlet, fo r instance , Shake speare's Macbeth woul d no t see m t o b e a particularl y difficul t work. Yet it would take more words than I ca n spare to do even partial justic e to the rich variety of answers that have been given, in the criticis m merel y of the pas t twent y years, to th e questio n of what precisely is its unifying form . According to one school of interpreters, th e principl e o f it s constructio n i s th e concret e human actio n whic h i t represents—a n actio n t o whic h w e ar e intended to respond emotionally as we would respond to a similar action in life by virtue of the illusion the dram a creates tha t th e hero and most of the othe r dramatis personae ar e i n all essentia l respects me n and wome n like ourselves. It is , on this vie w of its structure, a literal tragic imitation, to the discussion of which th e distinctions provide d b y Aristotle in the Poetics ar e accordingl y relevant. Bu t then when we ask what exactly the imitated actio n is and in what sense it is tragic, we find that it has been possible for differen t critic s o f thi s schoo l t o conceiv e o f th e plo t o f Macbeth i n tw o radicall y oppose d ways : o n the on e hand, a s a modified traged y of the Aristotelia n type, i n which the spectacl e of a potentiall y goo d man's sufferin g an d mora l rui n unde r th e stress of great temptation excite s in us at least qualifie d pit y an d fear;3 and , on the othe r hand , a s a tragedy o f retribution, some 6

what simila r t o Richard III, onl y mor e profound , i n whic h a sequence o f criminal acts leads the her o t o deserve d misfortune , and the climactic emotion is not pity but punitiv e satisfaction. 4 By many other critics during these years, however, the assumption o n whic h bot h o f thes e contrastin g view s ar e founde d ha s been calle d sharpl y i n question . I t i s a n error , w e ar e assured , that doe s littl e credi t eithe r t o Shakespeare' s geniu s o r t o ou r understanding o f his ag e o r of poetry to think of Macbeth—or fo r that matte r o f an y o f the majo r tragedies—a s primaril y a dram a at all, a t least in the sens e ordinarily give n to the wor d "drama" from Aristotle to Bradley and William Archer. But if not a drama, or at any rate not a "realistic" drama, what is it, we ask? And here again w e ar e offere d variou s answers , whic h hav e i n commo n only the presupposition that if Macbeth i s as great a work as we have always thought, it s controlling structur e must be on e not of literal actions , a s i n th e criticis m o f th e othe r school , bu t o f meanings. Th e pattern , say s on e critic , i s twofold— a mora l o r religious allegor y of "the onslaugh t of evil upon the huma n personality an d th e murde r o f the soul " and a politica l allegor y i n which the forces of natural-supernatural evil, using the Macbeths as both agents and victims, succeed in killing the divine-king and triumphing i n th e state , unti l th e tim e i s once more set fre e b y the victoriou s instruments o f Go d an d o f th e piou s Scotlan d of St. Columba. 5 Fo r anothe r critic , th e pla y i s no t s o muc h a n allegory i n th e stric t sens e a s a poeti c shadowing-fort h of tw o universal myths: in one of its aspects it is Shakespeare's Descen t into Hell , hi s Inferno, i n it s othe r aspec t hi s spring-myth , th e tyranny of Macbeth between the two beneficent reigns of Duncan and Malcol m being bu t "winte r com e back afte r th e promis e of spring only to be overcome in turn by spring itself." 6 Fo r a third critic, the play is best describe d a s a "poem" in dramatic form of the orde r of The Waste Land; i n reading it, he tells us, we ought to concer n ourselves not wit h th e huma n qualities o f its action s and character s bu t wit h th e fashio n i n whic h Shakespeare' s peculiar us e o f language give s unity an d emotiona l force t o it s themes o f good and evil , order and disorder , realit y an d appear ance, certaint y an d doubt. 7 An d lastly , fo r stil l anothe r critic , the true form o f Macbeth i s the metaphysica l vision of death an d

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life force s whic h i s conveye d t o ou r imaginatio n mor e com pletely through its static pattern of images than throug h it s narrative plot ; w e com e to realize , whe n w e submi t ou r mind s t o these, tha t th e whol e pla y "i s a wrestlin g o f destructio n wit h creation: with sickenin g shoc k the phantasmagori a o f death an d evil are violently loosed on earth, an d for a while th e agon y endures, destructive ; ther e i s a wrenchin g o f new birth , itself dis orderly and unnatural in this disordered world, and then creation's more firm-set sequent concor d replaces chaos . The baby-peace i s crowned."8 And s o I migh t g o o n indefinitely . Bu t th e mora l fo r ou r in quiry i s perhaps clear . I t i s simply that befor e w e ca n embark , with any assurance, upon a fresh approac h t o the subject of these lectures, we must first attempt t o account in some fashion fo r th e extraordinary confusion o f opposing doctrines and interpretation s in which th e proble m o f poetic structure , a s it present s itsel f t o us in this late age of criticism, appear s t o be involved . II

There woul d see m o n firs t though t t o b e onl y three way s of doing this. The easiest wa y would be to draw the sam e negative conclusion fro m ou r lis t o f dispute s tha t sceptica l writer s lik e Montaigne o r Bernar d Mandevill e dre w fro m thei r simila r list s of th e controversie s an d contradiction s o f philosophers—namely, that n o solutio n t o th e proble m ca n b e hope d fo r inasmuc h a s criticism, lik e philosophy , i s onl y a matte r o f opinion . Or , sec ondly, followin g th e exampl e o f man y natura l scientists , o f a majority of the mos t advanced moder n students o f language, an d of thos e contemporary philosophers wh o think it a waste o f time to rea d an y o f thei r predecessor s befor e Bertran d Russel l an d G. E. Moore, we might distinguish between tw o historical phase s of ou r subject— a past, or pre-scientific, phase, in which confusio n and erro r wer e inevitable sinc e the righ t metho d of inquiry ha d not yet been found, and a present or future phase in which, thanks to th e discover y o f the correc t procedur e an d t o th e emergenc e of the necessary auxiliary disciplines, such as psychology, modern linguistics, o r anthropology , criticis m i s a t las t o n th e poin t o f

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attaining rea l solution s to this a s well a s its othe r problems . W e should then be able to dismiss what earlier critics have said abou t poetic structur e a s a mer e collectio n o f error s o r fragmentar y truths founde d o n assumption s such a s ca n hardl y surviv e th e age of Freud an d Jung and Bloomfield an d Frazer; and we could then subscribe, with an easy conscience, to the eloquen t declara tion of modern independence in the first chapter o f I. A. Richards' Principles of Literary Criticism: " A few conjectures, " he tell s us , "a supply of admonitions, many acute isolated observations , some brilliant guesses, much oratory and applied poetry, inexhaustibl e confusion, a sufficienc y o f dogma , n o smal l stoc k o f prejudices , whimsies and crotchets, a profusion o f mysticism, a little genuine speculation, sundry stray inspirations, pregnant hints and random apergus: o f suc h a s these, i t ma y be sai d withou t exaggeration , is extant critical theory composed." 9 Or, thirdly, shoul d this seem a bit extreme, we might attempt to do for th e conflictin g theorie s of critic s respectin g th e structur e o f poetr y wha t Cicero , fo r example, undertook to d o fo r th e no t les s conflictin g theorie s of earlier an d contemporar y philosopher s respectin g morals : see k out, that is , such partial insight s into the trut h abou t the subjec t as the y ma y appea r t o affor d an d fin d a mean s o f reconcilin g these wit h on e anothe r withi n th e confine s o f a ne w an d mor e comprehensive critica l scheme. 10 Let u s consider , however , whethe r thes e thre e way s of inter preting an d dealin g wit h opposition s i n critica l doctrin e an d judgment ar e indee d th e onl y availabl e alternatives . An d w e may observe , t o begi n with , that , distinc t a s the y see m t o be , they ye t al l res t upo n a commo n assumption . Wha t the y pre suppose, i n effect , i s tha t th e questio n a t issue , i n th e variou s conflicting statement s o f critic s abou t th e structur e o f poetry o r of individua l poems , is a singl e question, t o which , accordingly , unless it be a question tha t can' t b e answere d objectivel y a t all , we have a right t o expect, in the long run a t least, a s knowledge accumulates an d technique s improve , a singl e correc t answer . When i t i s asked, for instance , wha t kin d o f structure poetr y o r tragedy has, or what is the unifying structur e of Macbeth, or what functions are served in that play by the repeated imager y of badly fitting clothe s o r by th e lon g scene between Malcol m and Mac -

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duff a t th e en d o f Act IV, it i s taken fo r grante d tha t thes e ar e all problems of the same univocal sort, though requiring differen t means fo r thei r solution , a s is , le t u s say , th e proble m a t th e present tim e o f the structur e of the ato m or of the huma n eye or the problem o f how the first quarto o f Hamlet was put together . The strikin g thing , however , about thes e latte r problem s i s th e very considerable body of conclusions upon which scientists an d bibliographers hav e been abl e t o agree ; an d i t i s therefore only natural t o infe r fro m th e absenc e o f such agreement amon g th e critics wh o have written abou t traged y o r Macbeth or the struc ture o f poetr y i n genera l eithe r tha t criticis m itsel f i s a vai n pursuit o r that critic s hav e not ye t learned , o r ar e onl y just beginning to learn, what is their proper job. The inference is indeed a natural one—provide d w e gran t th e assumption. But it is precisely this I would question, a t an y rate in th e nai'v e for m i n whic h i t ha s usuall y been entertained , o n the groun d tha t i t leave s out o f accoun t one of th e thre e inde pendently variabl e factor s whic h determin e th e characte r o f any critica l writin g tha t goe s beyond mer e appreciatio n o r th e expression o f emotiona l response s t o literar y works . O f thes e factors, one is the critic himself, as a man endowed with a certain set of interests, a certain intellectua l capacity , a certain range of reading an d information , a certai n kin d o r degre e o f tast e an d sensibility; an d a secon d facto r i s the subjec t upon whic h h e i s engaged, in th e ordinar y sense of the objectivel y existing text or body of texts to which he refers u s when he speaks , for example, of Macbeth or Shakespeare or tragedy . Thes e ar e obviou s deter minants of what any critic may elect to say; but it is an inadequat e view o f criticism—an d on e boun d t o lea d t o misinterpretatio n and injustice—tha t i s satisfied t o dwell o n the interaction , i n any critical writing , o f thes e tw o factor s only , withou t recognizin g that the "facts " o r "objects" th e criti c i s talking abou t ar e wha t they ar e i n hi s statement s of them as a consequenc e not merel y of thei r "real " or objective nature modifie d mor e or less radically by th e critic' s huma n equatio n but , a t th e sam e tim e an d in dependently, o f th e interna l necessitie s an d possibilitie s o f th e discourse which he is constructing about them. Any critical book or essay that make s coherent sens e is a body of propositions th e

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meaning an d validit y o f an y on e o f whic h canno t b e properl y judged unti l w e hav e uncovere d th e precis e questio n i n th e critic's min d t o whic h th e propositio n i s intende d t o b e a n answer. Thi s agai n i s obvious ; but wha t i s commonl y forgotten is that no question or problem, in turn, has any absolute statu s or isolable meaning , bu t i s alway s relative, a s t o bot h it s conten t and th e condition s o f its answer , to th e tota l contex t o f the dis course i n whic h i t occurs— a contex t tha t exist s independentl y both of "things" and o f the criti c himself onc e he ha s chose n o r constructed it , a s a particula r an d finit e structur e o f term s i n which the referen t o f any term i s conditioned b y th e logica l re lation i n whic h i t stand s t o al l th e othe r terms , o r conceptua l elements, employe d i n th e discussion , an d ultimatel y t o th e special se t o f basi c assumption s concernin g subject-matte r an d method upo n whic h th e discours e rests . It ca n be sai d for this vie w of criticism tha t i t receive s stron g encouragement fro m on e o f the majo r intellectua l development s of ou r time , althoug h I shoul d no t wis h t o groun d th e cas e fo r it on that fact alone . The primary emphasis in philosophy, a s we all know , ha s tende d t o shif t i n th e twentiet h centur y fro m a preoccupation wit h th e natur e o f objectiv e thing s o r wit h th e powers and forms o f the mind to a predominant concern with th e character, organization , and use s of symbols. The immediat e re sults of this revolution have undoubtedly included a considerable narrowing o f philosophi c curiosit y an d a settin g u p o f dogma s quite as rigid in their way as any dogmas of the past; but among its mor e fruitfu l consequence s w e mus t certainl y numbe r th e fresh appreciatio n i t has brought of the fundamentall y importan t role played b y language no less in the determinatio n than i n th e expression o f our knowledge. We have come to se e more clearly perhaps tha n befor e tha t languag e is not onl y a mean s of communication an d artisti c creatio n bu t also , a s Edwar d Sapi r re marked, a n instrumen t of discovery and understanding , and thi s not merely in the simple sense suggested by the fac t that we can move by th e ai d o f common or collectiv e noun s from though t of individuals to thought of classes and groups , but likewis e "in th e much more far reaching sense that it s form s predetermin e fo r us certain mode s o f observatio n an d interpretation." 11 An d fro m 11

this starting-poin t w e have bee n le d t o conceiv e o f any scienc e or disciplin e a s firs t o f al l a highl y specialize d linguisti c con struction—a coheren t "framework " (to us e th e curren t slang ) of selected term s an d distinction s an d o f rule s fo r operatin g wit h them, int o which w e mus t translate al l ou r observation s o f particular object s i f w e ar e t o succee d i n makin g verifiable sens e out o f their characteristic s an d relations . W e are thus , in al l ou r inquiries int o things , th e mor e o r les s willin g an d productiv e prisoners o f th e specia l syste m o f "language " (i n thi s derive d sense) w e hav e chose n t o employ ; i t i s onl y i n relatio n t o thi s system that we can assert anything as a meaningful "fact " or give determinate significanc e to an y questio n w e ask ; an d ou r prob lems an d solution s wil l diffe r widely , eve n whe n th e ostensibl e subjects remai n th e same , accordin g t o th e peculia r conceptua l and logica l constitutio n o f th e "framework " we happe n t o b e using. They will be o f one kind, for example , if it s element s ar e names for everyday objects like tables and chairs, of another kind if its controlling terms are restricted to the immediate data o f the senses, an d o f anothe r kind stil l i f it s distinctiv e vocabulary , a s in mathematical physics, is confined t o space-time-event relations of a wholly abstract sort.12 Now amon g the variou s frameworks o r systemati c language s within which our reasoned knowledge of the worl d i s containe d and b y which it ha s been shaped , som e ma y happen a t a given time t o exhibi t a mor e stable characte r tha n others . Ther e i s a large measur e o f stability—t o recu r t o m y forme r examples—i n present-day nuclea r physics , i n moder n ophthalmology , an d i n the bibliographical investigatio n o f printed texts ; wit h th e resul t that question s lik e thos e o f th e structur e o f th e ato m o r th e human eye or of the origin s o f the first quarto o f Hamlet ca n b e said t o hav e i n a real sens e th e sam e definition fo r al l qualifie d students o f thes e subjects . O n th e whole , however , throughou t intellectual history , situation s of this kind have tended t o be th e exception rather than the rule. The unity of science, except in the most general and useless statements of its method, is still a remote and probabl y unrealizabl e ideal ; an d i n th e man y discipline s having to do not with externa l nature but wit h man' s behaviou r and productions, the characteristic spectacl e has always been one 12

of instabilit y an d th e rivalr y o f competin g frameworks . Tha t i s one reason why, for instance , th e debat e o n foreign policy whic h has gon e o n continuousl y i n th e Unite d State s sinc e th e Firs t World Wa r ha s bee n s o difficul t t o resolve . Fo r althoug h th e participants have seldom realized th e fact, there has been implie d in that debate from th e beginning, over and above the many perplexing circumstantia l issues , a basi c questio n o f th e kin d o f language i n which suc h matter s ough t t o be discussed—whethe r this shoul d b e a languag e compose d primaril y o f mora l terms , so that th e politic s o f nations ar e turne d int o somethin g like th e plot of a melodrama, or a language modelled on that o f domestic penal law , s o tha t th e centra l proble m o f polic y become s th e prevention o r punishment of international crimes , or a "realistic" language (a s the phrase is) in which thinking is typically directe d to questions o f national interes t and th e balanc e o f power. Ill

What I woul d propose , then , a s a majo r premis e o f thes e lectures, i s tha t literar y criticis m i s not , an d neve r ha s been , a single discipline , t o whic h successiv e writer s hav e mad e partia l and neve r wholl y satisfactor y contributions , bu t rathe r a col lection o f distinc t an d mor e o r les s incommensurabl e "frame works" or "languages, " within an y on e of whic h a questio n lik e that of poetic structure necessaril y take s o n a differen t meanin g and receive s a differen t kin d o f answer fro m th e meanin g it ha s and th e kin d o f answe r i t i s properl y give n i n an y o f th e riva l critical languages in which it i s discussed. 13 It i s not a sufficien t objection t o thi s vie w o f criticism tha t i t ha s rarel y bee n enter tained eve n by the mos t self-conscious of critics. Fo r the diversi ties o f languag e w e ar e her e concerne d wit h ar e matter s o f assumed principle, definition , an d method , such as are no t likely to show themselves, sav e indirectly, o n the surface of a critic's discourse, an d hence no t likely, eve n i n controversy , to forc e them selves on his attention. They pertain rather to what he thinks with than t o wha t h e think s about—to th e implici t structur e an d rationale o f his argument as a whole than to the explicit doctrine s he is attempting t o state. And both the reality and the importanc e

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of th e diversitie s hav e been further disguised , i n th e criticis m of our Europea n tradition , b y th e persistenc e o f a larg e bod y of terms an d commonplaces—lik e th e wor d "structure " itsel f o r "poetry" o r "tragedy " o r "plot"—th e verba l identit y o f whic h i n different critic s tend s effectuall y t o concea l th e ofte n shar p op positions o f principle an d metho d tha t separate thei r discussion s from on e another. I t take s som e effort afte r al l t o realiz e tha t a writer may not be talking about the same things I am, or reasoning about the m in the sam e way, merely because h e happens t o use the sam e customary formulae in the statemen t o f his points! The tru e stat e o f affairs , however , ofte n reveal s itsel f when ever, o n bein g confronte d wit h a n extrem e clas h o f doctrine s between tw o obviously seriou s an d intelligen t critic s employin g the same vocabulary, we undertake to pry into the hidden struc tures of definitions an d assumption s which thei r respectiv e argu ments presuppose . An illuminating case is the attemp t o f Mr. L. C. Knights, in his well-known eisay on "How Many Children Had Lad y Macbeth?", to correc t wha t h e regard s a s th e error s impose d o n reader s o f Shakespeare by A. C. Bradley's classic lectures o n Shakespearean Tragedy.14 Th e most damaging of these, he tells us, is the dogm a that Shakespear e wa s "pre-eminently a grea t 'creato r o f charac ters'" and tha t th e mai n task , consequently , o f student s o f th e plays consist s in laying bare th e marvellou s insights int o human nature i n crisi s whic h th e tragedies , i n particular , embody . Eminent criti c a s Bradle y was—s o th e argumen t runs—h e di d a grave disservice to Shakespeare when he devote d s o many of his pages t o detaile d psychologica l an d mora l analyse s o f th e characters o f th e plays , t o th e exclusio n o f an y seriou s concer n with their languag e and verse, and especially when he continue d the ba d traditio n o f writin g abou t Shakespeare' s dramatis personae as if they were real persons whose lives could be properl y thought o f as extending beyon d th e play s in whic h the y ar e in volved. To write thus , accordin g t o Mr . Knights, is to disregar d the essentia l fact , whic h ha s bee n reveale d t o u s b y C . H . Rickword, tha t th e "characters " o f a dram a o r novel , a s wel l a s its "plot, " hav e n o existenc e excep t a s "precipitates " fro m th e reader's memory of the successiv e words he has read an d that, as

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such, they are mere critical "abstractions" to which we can atten d only at the cost of impoverishing our "total response" to the work. And it is also to forget that a play of Shakespeare is not a drama simply but a "dramatic poem, " the en d o f which is "to communicate a ric h an d controlle d experienc e b y mean s o f words" ; an d accordingly tha t th e onl y profitabl e approac h t o i t mus t b e b y way o f "an exac t and sensitiv e stud y of th e qualit y o f the verse , of th e rhyth m and imagery , of the controlle d association s o f th e words an d thei r emotiona l and intellectua l force , i n shor t b y a n exact and sensitiv e study of Shakespeare's handling of language. " I hav e selected thi s controversy because it seems to me a comparatively eas y one to resolve in the term s o f my hypothesis. Le t us suppos e tha t w e ar e critic s fo r who m th e primar y objec t of concern is something we call "poetry" an d le t u s further suppose that we have defined "poetry " in such a way as to make it distinc t from "drama " i n th e sens e in whic h a n ordinar y pros e pla y de picting "real " character s i n actio n i s drama , an d tha t w e have , moreover, conceive d o f a poem , o f whateve r sort , a s essentiall y a certai n definitiv e arrangemen t o f words, o r rathe r a s th e su m total o f emotiona l an d intellectua l responses—correspondin g t o the experienc e th e poe t wishe d t o communicate—whic h thi s ar rangement o f word s i s calculate d t o evok e i n th e min d o f a properly traine d reader . I t woul d then follow , naturall y enough , that i n writin g o f on e o f Shakespeare' s plays , w e woul d direc t attenjion, a s Mr . Knight s does , mainl y t o it s ke y word s an d metaphors and the pattern o f associated and contrasted meaning s these suggest, and would be no less convinced than he is that "to stress i n th e conventiona l wa y characte r o r plo t o r an y o f th e other abstraction s tha t ca n b e made , i s t o impoveris h th e tota l response to the poetry. " I t woul d be unthinkable , indeed , fo r us to tak e an y othe r line . Bu t no w le t u s suppos e tha t w e hav e started with concepts and terms of quite a different sort . We have taken a s the genu s of our subject-matte r no t "poetry " or "poetic drama" but "Shakespearea n tragedy " (i n whic h "poetry " in Mr . Knights's sense is one of the technical means ) an d have identified this, not with a specific art form o r with a particular lan d o f effec t to be produced in audiences, but wit h a certain imaginative conception i n th e min d o f th e poet—th e conceptio n o f "th e tragi c 15

aspect of life" which Shakespeare sough t to embody dramaticall y in different ways , but alway s in terms of actions issuing from an d expressing mora l character, i n Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, an d Macbeth. Wouldn' t it follo w fro m thi s tha t ou r centra l proble m in discussing th e play s would no w be, a s it was for Bradley, th e recovery fo r eac h o f the m o f wha t wa s i n Shakespeare' s min d when h e wrot e it , s o that, a s Bradle y said , th e actio n an d th e personages engage d i n i t "ma y assum e i n ou r imagination s a shape a little less unlike the shap e the y wor e in the imaginatio n of thei r creator"? 15 And wouldn't i t als o follo w tha t i n effectin g such a recovery , w e woul d b e justifie d i n concentratin g o n th e characters a s th e mai n sourc e o f "th e tragi c fact " an d i n con sidering the m no t a s "abstractions" fro m th e word s of the play s as finally written but a s the concrete semblances of real men and women, each with a being mor e or less independent o f the par ticular action s he perform s i n the complete d drama , whic h the y undoubtedly were for the imagination of the poet wh o conceived them? It woul d be unthinkable , onc e more, given th e schem e of terms we have chosen to use in discussing the tragedies , tha t we should tak e an y othe r line . What I hav e bee n saying , i n short , i s tha t th e oppositio n between Bradle y and Mr . Knights on the issu e of the natur e an d importance o f characte r i n dram a i s no t a t al l a n oppositio n o f the kin d whic h require s u s t o assum e tha t i f on e o f th e tw o propositions i s true, the other must be false. It woul d be such an opposition onl y if the tw o propositions were answers to the same question abou t the same object; and we have seen that this is not the case , inasmuc h a s Bradle y i s talkin g abou t th e play s a s re flections o f thei r author' s imaginativ e vie w o f wha t i s tragi c i n life, wherea s Mr . Knights is talking about the m a s effect s i n th e right reader o f certain determinat e arrangement s of words on th e printed page . I t i s therefor e possibl e t o affir m withou t contra diction bot h tha t th e character s o f Shakespear e ar e individua l men an d wome n possesse d o f a realit y analogou s t o tha t o f living peopl e an d tha t the y ar e merel y (i n Rickword' s phrase ) "precipitates from th e memory" that have "emotive valency" only "in solution." 16 Th e opposition , i n othe r words—thoug h thi s i s largely conceale d by the similaritie s in vocabulary—is not on e of

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conflicting interpretation s o f the sam e facts, t o b e settle d b y a n appeal to a common body of evidence, but o f two distinct world s of discourse , in which the "facts " cited by eac h criti c i n suppor t of hi s positio n have been determine d differentl y fo r th e tw o o f them b y their prio r decision s t o constitut e th e subject-matte r of Shakespearean criticism in essentially different terms .

IV It shoul d b e clea r fro m thi s exampl e tha t th e rea l subject matter o f an y criti c ca n neve r b e accuratel y define d b y notin g merely tha t h e i s talkin g abou t suc h thing s a s dramati c poetry or tragedy or Shakespearean tragedy or Macbeth. His real subjectmatter i s no t an y o f thes e thing s i n itsel f (whateve r tha t ma y mean), nor i s it necessaril y an y of these things a s conceived b y us or by any of the other critic s whose errors are bein g exposed. Rather it i s simply that aspect , or those aspects, of his indicate d subject upon which our attention i s focused b y the semanti c and logical constitutio n o f his discourse ; it i s what, i n short , h e ha s thus taken his subjec t t o be . An d th e rang e o f possible critica l subject-matters, i n thi s sense , tha t ma y li e hidde n unde r th e various familiar names for literary entities is extraordinarily great. This is only to be expected , perhaps, when we consider that th e typical subjects of criticism are such as lend themselves peculiarly to divers e an d shiftin g mode s o f consideration . Althoug h the y have a basi s i n huma n nature , the y ar e no t invarian t natura l phenomena bu t contingen t huma n constructions , s o tha t thei r "true" character is always relative, as that o f the object s of physical scienc e is not, to wha t me n hav e designed o r though t the m to be; and that character, besides, has often bee n affected , i n th e course o f history , b y th e ver y attempt s o f theorizin g critic s t o say what it is. They differ, moreover , from suc h artificial products as dwellin g houses, automobiles , and atomi c bombs in havin g a far wide r variet y o f significan t use s an d henc e i n permittin g a much greate r diversit y o f interpretation s an d o f criteri a fo r judging their succes s or failure. I t i s little wonder, therefore, that critics i n al l periods—writin g unde r th e influenc e o f varyin g practical aim s o r philosophi c preoccupations—shoul d hav e fel t 17

free t o constitut e literatur e o r poetr y o r an y o f their individua l monuments a s widel y discrepan t kind s o f things , th e differin g natures o f which ar e boun d to b e reflected , in man y subtle bu t decisive ways , in th e differin g structure s o f term s the y emplo y in makin g statements abou t them . I kno w of n o historia n o r theoris t o f criticis m wh o ha s suc ceeded i n exhibitin g th e ful l rang e o f such differences , bu t i t i s clearly muc h greate r tha n ou r usua l classification s o f critica l approaches—for example , a s historical, biographical , psychologi cal, aesthetic, moral, sociological, and the like—would suggest. I t is common , thus, t o sa y tha t bot h Longinu s an d Coleridg e ar e psychological critics; but th e subject-matte r o f Longinus, in th e sense of that which gives determinate reference and intelligibility to his propositions an d arguments , is a certain genera l quality of writing, amenable to art, the character o f which is best describe d in term s o f it s effec t o n readers , wherea s th e subject-matte r o f Coleridge (whe n he talks about "poetry") i s primarily the manifestation i n poems of a natural power inherent i n poets an d bes t described i n terms of the mental faculty in which it resides—"that synthetic an d magica l power," as he call s it , "t o which we have exclusively appropriated th e nam e of imagination/'17 And so also with man y of -th e genera l word s which critic s themselve s hav e used to designat e th e subjects or characteristic s o f subjects they are engage d i n discussing—i t ca n neve r b e safel y assume d i n advance that their commo n use by two different critic s i s a sign that these critics have constituted th e effectiv e subject-matter s of their discussion s in th e sam e way, so that it i s possible t o make direct comparisons between their conclusion s and to say that one is more nearly adequate t o the real state of affairs tha n the other. The ter m "imitation " i s o f crucia l importance , a s w e al l know , for th e discussio n o f poetr y i n bot h Plat o an d Aristotle ; bu t whereas for Plato i t i s a universal an d unifyin g ter m applicabl e not only to art bu t t o human actions and knowledge and t o th e natural world itsel f an d hence a term tha t bring s the object s of criticism into organic relationship, in the dialogues, with all other objects, it s functio n fo r Aristotle , o n th e contrary , i s tha t o f a differentiating ter m by whic h poetry, o r rather a certain clas s of poems, i s distinguishe d fro m nature , action, and knowledge, and 18

constituted, fo r the purposes of the Poetics, as a body of concret e objects presupposing peculiar principles o f construction and sub ject to evaluation in ways not relevant to either actions or propositions.18 This is a radical differenc e i n subject-matter between th e two philosophers , i n th e ligh t o f whic h i t i s surel y no t fai r t o Plato t o sa y that Aristotl e "refuted " hi s condemnatio n of poetr y in The Republic o r fai r t o Aristotl e t o sa y tha t Plat o too k a sounder vie w tha n h e di d o f th e relatio n betwee n poetr y an d morals. O r consider , again , th e discussion s o f "metaphysica l poetry" in Dr. Johnson and Mr. Ransom. In spite of the fact that Mr. Ransom writes in full awarenes s of Johnson's use o f the ter m and tha t bot h critic s refe r t o som e o f th e sam e seventeenth century poets , th e rea l objec t o f discussio n i n th e tw o i s onl y nominally identical , th e objec t envisage d b y Johnso n bein g a historically determinat e "race" of poets i n th e generatio n befor e Dryden, to whom he attributes certain excesses and defects in the light o f hi s genera l criteri a fo r poetr y o f an y kind , whereas th e object o f concern for Mr . Ransom , as constituted i n th e term s of his essay , is strictly no t a particular schoo l of poets a t al l bu t a universal kin d o f poetry, th e natur e o f whic h i s determined , i n his definition , b y th e oppositio n h e establishe s betwee n i t an d the two contrasting extremes of "physical poetry" on the one hand and "Platoni c poetry " o n the other. 19 On e term, again , but tw o subject-matters that overlap at no essential point; an d though we may prefer , wit h Mr . Ransom , t o us e th e nam e "metaphysica l poetry" in a more honorific sens e than it has in Johnson, we must not allo w ourselve s to suppos e that w e ar e honourin g the sam e thing. This wil l suffic e a s a n indicatio n o f on e basi s o f divergenc e among critica l languages , o f whic h w e shal l se e a goo d man y other example s a s w e procee d i n thes e lectures . A critica l language, however , i s more than a finit e se t o f basic an d ofte n implicit definition s which , a s a conceptua l schem e o f a deter minate sort , constitute s it s literar y object s a s th e particula r subject-matter tha t is being talke d about . I t i s also a specia l se t of assumption s as to how th e principle s an d distinction s neede d in the discussio n are t o be derive d an d a s to ho w they ma y b e used t o giv e valid an d relevan t knowledg e concerning whatever

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the subject-matter i s taken to be. There ca n be no critical writin g that make s coheren t sens e whic h doe s no t res t upo n suc h a double commitment; but th e two aspects are so related tha t wha t literature o r poetr y o r an y poe m i s fo r a give n criti c ma y b e conditioned quite as much by his preference among possible ways of investigatin g o r arguin g abou t subject s o f thi s sor t a s hi s selection o f a method o f inquiry o r demonstration i s conditione d by what h e assumes literature o r poetry t o be. Of th e variou s diflFerence s o f basi c metho d discernibl e i n th e history o f criticism, I ca n deal here , illustratively, wit h onl y one . It i s a differenc e tha t emerge s clearl y enoug h when w e contras t the procedur e o f a critic like Mr. Ransom in his essays on poetr y with the procedure o f Longinus in his attempt t o construct a n art of th e "sublime/ * Suc h a n ar t i s possible , Longinu s argues , be cause the "sublime " exist s as a concrete effec t o r quality actuall y achieved an d henc e achievabl e i n language—a n effect , quit e distinct fro m tha t o f rhetorical persuasion , whic h w e al l experi ence whenever , i n reading work s of poetry, philosophy , oratory , or history, we come upon a passage that transport s us out of ourselves an d make s us, in a sense , one with th e write r o r speaker . For the ar t whic h Longinu s envisages , this empiricall y verifiable effect, th e natur e o f whic h ca n b e define d i n genera l term s b y distinguishing i t fro m it s variou s possibl e opposite s (turgidity , frigidity, an d parenthyrson), become s th e en d t o b e sough t an d hence th e starting-poin t o r firs t principl e o f hi s inquiry . Tha t inquiry, sinc e it s objec t i s a practica l one , mus t follo w a n a posteriori cours e from th e natur e o f the effec t t o b e achieve d t o its necessary causes or conditions in what a writer mus t do if h e wishes t o attai n "sublimity " o f utterance ; an d th e proble m i s solved when Longinus has discriminated th e five essential source s of "sublime " effect s i n literatur e (nobl e conception , stron g emotion, an d a proper employmen t of figures, diction, an d rhythmi c and harmonic composition), has demonstrated tha t these exhaust the possibl e causes , an d ha s show n for eac h tha t i t i s a mean s conducive to the end desired.20 Strikingly different fro m thi s i s Mr. Ransom's procedure i n th e argument tha t serve s t o suppor t hi s well-known contention tha t any goo d poe m i s a composit e o f a "logica l structure " an d a n

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"irrelevant loca l texture/ ' th e firs t bein g a prerequisit e o f th e second thoug h onl y ver y loosel y determinativ e o f it . I f w e as k why w e mus t accept thi s a s a descriptio n o f what th e object s of poetic criticis m are , on e answe r tha t migh t b e give n i s tha t i t works in practice . W e have onl y to rea d Marvell' s "To Hi s Co y Mistress," fo r example , t o se e tha t behin d th e poe m i s "a n easy argument t o th e effec t tha t a lover , afte r pointin g ou t th e swif t passage o f time , reason s with hi s mistres s tha t the y ha d bette r love at once," but tha t the poem itself give s us "a good deal more than w e ha d hope d for"—tha t th e detai l o f its variou s parts ha s assumed "a good deal more of independent characte r tha n coul d possibly hav e bee n predicted " fro m a consideratio n o f th e "logical argument " alone. 21 This, however, is not altogether satis factory; for it is clear that much of what, in Mr. Ransom's analysis of Marvell's poem, is "irrelevant texture" (i n other words, "poetry" as distinguished fro m "prose" ) woul d at once become part of th e "logical structure" ha d h e only made his paraphrase o f the "argu ment" a bi t mor e precise—fo r example , b y qualifyin g th e love r as "impatient " an d "witty " an d th e mistres s a s "coy" ; an d i t i s equally clea r tha t th e poe m coul d b e satisfactoril y analysed , a s it has been , i n terms of many other pair s o f contrary term s tha n the one he has seen fit to employ. The important question , there fore, i s why we must accept thi s particula r oppositio n of "logica l structure" an d "irrelevan t texture " a s a necessar y formulation of the natur e o f this an d al l othe r poems . The necessit y i s plainl y no t o f th e sam e orde r a s tha t whic h leads fro m Longinus ' isolation an d definitio n o f th e "sublime " a s an effec t possibl e in language to hi s distinctio n o f noble concep tion an d stron g emotio n a s th e tw o "natural " condition s o f it s existence i n an y piec e o f writing . I t i s not , tha t i s t o say , th e hypothetical necessit y tha t joins , i n practica l experienc e an d th e arts, somethin g taken a s an en d wit h th e mean s requisite fo r it s achievement, bu t rather , w e ma y suspect , th e kin d o f necessity that compel s us, onc e w e hav e grante d th e premise s o f a give n argument, t o assen t t o whateve r conclusion s ar e draw n fro m them. And our suspicion that th e necessit y behind Mr . Ransom's analysis of poetry is of this dialectical sor t is confirmed whe n w e examine the foundations of his poetic theory as set forth especially 21

in th e essay s collecte d i n The WorlcFs Body.22 Fo r her e w e dis cover, a t th e basi s o f al l hi s reasonin g abou t particula r literar y questions (fo r example, in the discussion of "metaphysical poetry" already referre d to) , a genera l hypothesi s o r suppositio n con cerning ma n an d hi s possible relation s to th e worl d o f concret e things, according t o which the fundamental oppositio n in human life i s between th e impuls e to use , take , an d "devour " thing s i n the interest of conceptual knowledge and practical o r "economic " action and the impulse to contemplate an d love things in all their "wild" particularity fo r their ow n sake. This is the starting-poin t of al l hi s speculations ; an d fro m th e structur e o f primar y terms and relations thu s fixed upon he proceeds to generate, by strictl y logical disjunction and equation, a whole series of more particular oppositions—between "idea" and "image" ("A n idea i s derivativ e and tamed. Th e image is in the natura l or wild state , and i t ha s to be discovere d there , no t pu t there , obeyin g its ow n law an d none o f ours") ; betwee n science , a s on e extreme , an d religion , manners, and art, a s the other ; betwee n poetr y "o f the feelings " (in whic h "th e subjec t doe s no t reall y propos e t o los e himsel f in the object" ) an d "metaphysical poetry " (which , startin g wit h feelings, tend s t o "objectif y thes e imaginativel y int o externa l actions"); an d s o on . Th e tw o origina l impulses , an d al l thei r derivatives, remai n i n dialectica l oppositio n throughout , bu t i n such a manne r tha t th e tw o mus t b e presen t somehow , an d i n some ratio o f one to the other , i n an y human act o r production . Science an d ar t ar e thu s necessaril y contrarie s bu t no t wholl y exclusive of one another: "Science gratifie s a rational or practical impulse and exhibit s the minimu m o f perception. Ar t gratifie s a perceptual impulse and exhibit s the minimum of reason." An d so with poetry. "The poetic impulse is not free"—there must be some element o f "science " in i t i f onl y in it s metre—"ye t i t hold s ou t stubbornly agains t scienc e fo r th e enjoymen t o f it s images. " A poem mus t be therefore , b y necessar y inferenc e fro m th e pre ceding argumen t i f fro m nothin g else , a composit e o f 'logica l structure" (sinc e we must have some concepts if we are t o gras p anything) an d o f "irrelevan t texture " (sinc e th e differenti a o f poetry i s that i t give s us, i n oppositio n to science , th e "world' s body" rather than merely ideas about it). 22

Here the n ar e tw o sharpl y contrastin g method s o f derivin g critical principle s an d solvin g critical problems ; and i t i s easy to see that much will depend upo n which o f them a critic chooses . The on e is a "matter of fact" method (a s Hume would say) tha t seeks to render an account of empirically distinguishable literar y phenomena i n term s o f thei r essentia l an d distinctiv e cause s of production. It s starting-poin t i s alway s som e literar y for m o r actuality that has been and hence can be achieved b y art (what ever othe r prerequisite s ma y b e involved) , an d it s procedur e consists in reasoning back from thi s to the necessary an d sufficien t conditions of its existenc e or of its existenc e i n th e bes t possible state. The distinctions it looks for an d employs are distinctions of "nature" rather tha n o f "reason " inasmuc h a s thei r relevanc e i s determined not by the exigencies of the critic's hypothesis but b y some kind of inductive consideration of the particular phenomen a he is studying: fo r example , o f the variou s kinds of wholes tha t poets may construct (a s in Aristotle's differentiation s of tragedy , comedy, and epic) , or of the differen t element s necessary to th e production o f a n effec t o r o f a wor k o f a certai n kin d (a s i n Longinus' analysi s of th e source s of th e "sublime " o r Aristotle' s discrimination o f plot , character , thought , diction , melody , an d spectacle as the constitutive parts of tragedies), or of the alterna tive device s o r procedure s availabl e t o poet s wit h a vie w t o certain end s (a s in the modern distinction between symboli c and literal modes of representation in the novel), or of distinguishable factors i n th e response s of audience s (a s i n Johnson' s resolution of th e genera l condition s o f literar y pleasur e int o "truth " an d "variety"). And it i s characteristic o f the metho d that i t prefer s multiple an d overlappin g classification s o f literar y thing s t o classification on the basis of a single principle o f division to which all of the particular distinction s developed i n tihe critic's discourse may b e referred. The secon d method is in most respects th e contrar y of this. I t is that "other scientifi c method"—to quote Hume again—"where a general abstrac t principl e i s firs t established , an d i s afterward s branched out into a variety of inferences an d conclusions " whic h are the n mad e to appl y t o th e immediat e subjec t in hand. 28 It s starting-point i s alway s somethin g lai d dow n a s a basi c trut h 23

from which , i f i t i s granted , consequence s ca n b e inferre d b y logical equatio n an d opposition tha t ar e assumed to be appropri ate in some way to literature o r poetry throug h one or another or some combination of its causes in the mind s or creative processe s of writers , in the language they use, in the thing s o r actions the y represent, o r in th e effect s thei r works are capabl e of having o n readers. Th e essential first step is therefore to fix upon some kind of genera l structur e discernibl e i n thing s o r action s o r menta l faculties or symbolic expressions (for example, the creative power s of God , the universa l relation s o f man and nature , th e characte r of discours e or of science, the natur e of metaphor o r synecdoche , the operation s of the libido , the manifestation s o f primitive myth and ritual ) whic h ca n b e take n a s a mode l o r analogu e i n th e discussion and which, being simple r or better known than poetry , can b e used to supply th e criti c wit h principle s an d distinction s wherewith t o mar k off poetry fro m othe r thing s o r t o assimilat e it to them and ultimately to make statements about the structure s and value s o f individua l poems . I n th e procedur e thu s deter mined, once the "general abstract principle" is established o r th e model chosen, the basic oppositions it makes possible necessaril y persist, i n howeve r qualifie d or disguise d forms , throughou t th e critic's discourse , wit h th e resul t tha t hi s accoun t o f poetry , n o matter how sharply he may wish to set it apart, i s always frame d in patterns o f terms that ca n be applie d wit h more or less equa l relevance to other things (a s we have seen in Mr. Ransom). This cannot be avoided, but a t the same time it is possible fo r a criti c who uses this method to employ it i n two differen t ways : eithe r reductively, b y arguin g tha t th e literar y objec t h e i s concerne d with is "nothing but " the more simple or general mode l to which it i s referre d (a s i n muc h contemporar y psychoanalyti c an d "archetypal" criticism), or constructively , b y retainin g th e basi c oppositions afforde d b y th e mode l bu t showin g tha t the y ar e inevitably particularize d an d qualifie d a s the y manifes t them selves in more differentiated forms (as , for the mos t part, i n Mr. Ransom). I n bot h o f its tw o modes , finally, it i s a metho d tha t can b e described , i n contras t wit h th e othe r method , eithe r a s hypothetical, i n the sens e that it s starting-point i s a general sup position chose n mor e or less arbitraril y fo r it s assume d explana 24

tory powers; or as dialectical, i n the sense both that the relevanc e of it s initia l premise s i s somethin g t o b e grante d rathe r tha n established inductivel y b y inspectio n o f concret e literar y phe nomena an d tha t i t proceed s typicall y b y dialectica l device s of division an d composition ; o r a s "abstract," in th e sens e tha t it s essential distinction s (lik e th e Marxis t conception o f th e "inne r contradictions" i n capitalism ) ar e "relation s o f ideas " o r dis tinctions of "reason" rather tha n of "nature. " Any criti c wh o want s t o mak e coheren t sens e abou t literar y questions mus t evidentl y choos e between thes e tw o method s of procedure, even if he remains unconscious that he is making th e choice; an d as he chooses the on e or the other , s o will what he is talking about , unde r th e nam e of "tragedy" o r what not , b e on e kind of thing or another, and fe w o f the statement s he ma y make about i t will have the sam e meaning or possess equal validit y in the two cases. For clearl y what may be true of tragedy, or of any tragedy, when "tragedy" i s taken, in the first method of consideration, a s a name fo r a particular specie s o f concret e artisti c pro ductions tha t ar e distinguished , amon g othe r things , b y havin g such-and-such a plot-form a s a necessary conditio n o f producin g such-and-such a n effect , wil l no t b e true , o r tru e i n th e sam e sense, whe n "tragedy " i s taken , i n th e secon d metho d o f con sideration, as the nam e of a universal attitude o r "vision " o f lif e the distinctive natur e of which is defined i n dialectical oppositio n to another similarly universal attitude o r "vision" o f life for which the wor d "comedy " i s though t t o b e th e appropriat e symbol. 24 And s o with any other literary thing that i s susceptible o f formu lation i n eithe r "matte r o f fact " o r "abstract " terms ; i t mus t inevitably suffe r a chang e o f natur e i n passin g fro m th e on e language t o the other—s o inescapable , i n criticism, i s the mutua l interdependence o f th e subject-matte r th e criti c actuall y talk s about an d th e metho d o f inquir y an d argumen t b y whic h i t i s constituted fo r him in his discussion. V

From thi s vie w o f th e natur e o f critica l discours e w e ma y derive certain consequence s o f major importanc e fo r our proble m 25

in these lectures a s well as , I think , for the practic e o f criticism in general. The essence of the view—t o adapt what has been said of scienc e an d philosoph y a s a whole—i s tha t th e sam e critica l "sentence" about no matter wha t subject "may b e demonstrably true o r demonstrabl y false, empiricall y confirmabl e o r not , sig nificant o r nonsensical"—and, we may add, relevant o r irrelevant , of centra l o r onl y margina l importance—"dependin g upo n th e framework t o whic h w e appeal." 25 Ther e is , i n othe r words , a strict relativity, in criticism, of statements to questions and questions to "frameworks"; and as for the status of variant comparabl e "frameworks" wit h respec t t o on e another , i t i s clea r tha t w e must tak e th e positio n recentl y urge d upo n hi s fello w logicians by Professo r Carnap. 26 Concerning th e substanc e of an y crucia l statement i n a science , h e says , w e ca n as k question s o f tw e different kinds . The firs t kin d consist s o f questions "internal " t o the framewor k befor e us: fo r example , the questio n o f how th e structure o f poetry differ s fro m tha t o f scienc e i n a framewor k which assumes that poetr y i s essentially a kind of discourse an d which disposes , accordingly , onl y o f term s tha t signif y suc h a subject-matter; thes e ar e question s o f fac t o r theor y t o whic h true o r fals e answer s ca n b e give n withi n th e conceptua l an d logical bound s o f th e framework . Th e question s o f th e secon d land ar e "external" in the sense that they are really questions not about propositions within a framework bu t abou t the justificatio n of th e framewor k itself : fo r example , i s i t tru e tha t poetr y i s essentially a kind of discourse? And these, says Professor Carnap , are no t theoretica l bu t practica l questions , whic h ar e state d correctly onl y when they are put i n the form , Shal l I use this or some other alternative framework, applicabl e t o the sam e sphere of object s but constitutin g the m a s differen t kind s of things, fo r the inquiries I wish to pursue? Shall I, in criticism, for instance , employ a languag e which wil l necessaril y lead m e t o dwel l o n characteristics tha t relat e poetr y t o othe r thing s o r a languag e which wil l necessaril y caus e m e t o emphasiz e characteristic s peculiar t o poetr y o r t o on e o r anothe r o f it s kinds ? The issue , plainly, canno t b e decide d b y a direc t appea l t o facts , fo r i t i s equally true that poetry is organically connecte d wit h everything else i n lif e an d that i t i s something with a distinctiv e realit y of

26

its own. I cannot, however, use the sam e conceptual language to exhibit both th e organi c interconnections and th e specifi c differ ences; henc e I mus t choose; but I ca n justify m y choice onl y by arguing, an d possibl y persuading other s t o agre e wit h me , that by mean s o f th e particula r framework I hav e selecte d certai n important questions about poetry (in the common sense reference of the term) ca n be answered which I could not even raise, much less answe r intelligibly, i n a framework o f the othe r sort . Ther e is thus a stric t relativity , i n criticism , no t onl y o f questions an d statements t o framework s bu t o f frameworks t o ends , tha t is, to the differen t kind s of knowledge about poetr y w e ma y happen , at one time or another or for on e or another reason, to want. And who i s ther e wit h authorit y sufficien t t o entitl e hi m t o infor m critics what these must be? It i s hardl y necessary , perhaps , t o poin t ou t th e differenc e between this pluralistic view of critical language s and the various other views , includin g thos e mentione d earlie r i n thi s lecture , which attempt t o account for th e many divergences and apparen t contradictions i n doctrin e o r interpretatio n s o familia r t o u s i n the histor y o f criticism. To insist tha t th e trut h abou t literatur e or poetr y i s no t an d canno t b e enclose d withi n an y particula r scheme of terms and principle s o f method is by n o means, in th e first place, t o giv e oneself u p t o scepticism abou t criticis m itsel f or the capacit y of any mode of critical approach to yield observations o r genera l proposition s th e trut h o f whic h w e ca n verif y for ourselve s onc e we have noted accuratel y wha t i t i s that th e statements are intended to refer to . The plain fact i s that, despit e all th e conflict s o f doctrin e an d critica l philosoph y fro m th e Greeks t o ourselves , rea l knowledg e of literatur e ha s bee n ad vanced, thoug h neve r i n a straigh t line . Again, although I have used the word "relativity" in describing the statu s o f critica l question s an d answers , th e relativit y in herent i n the view of criticism I am proposing i s a very differen t thing fro m wha t thos e critic s hav e i n min d wh o describ e them selves as historical o r sociological "relativists."27 I shal l not dwel l on the fac t tha t relativis m in this sense , at leas t i n its more consistent statements , i s a self-refutin g doctrin e whe n applie d t o philosophic positions , inasmuc h as the determination of all idea s 27

by circumstance s whic h i t assert s mus t necessaril y hol d tru e of this assertion itself. But the matte r is much simpler than that , for if ther e wer e indee d an y fixe d causa l relatio n betwee n th e languages whic h critic s hav e use d an d th e socia l an d cultura l conditions o f their times , the ver y diversity o f critical language s which confront s us in every period o r civilization i n which criti cism ha s flourishe d woul d hav e bee n impossible , an d th e co existence i n classica l Greec e o f Plat o an d Aristotl e woul d b e a miraculous event . A critica l languag e i s indee d somethin g de veloped i n historica l time , bu t onc e i t ha s bee n invente d an d made to yiel d usefu l an d verifiabl e results withi n it s sphere , i t remains thereafter , despit e changin g conditions , a s on e o f th e permanent resources of critics fo r solvin g the particula r kind s of problems it i s fitted to solv e should thes e agai n see m important . There hav e been , I suspect , fe w rea l sceptic s o r historica l relativists i n criticis m a s compare d wit h th e man y critic s wh o have deal t wit h th e proble m o f diversit y i n critica l position s i n one o r anothe r o f tw o othe r ways , both o f the m clearl y incom patible wit h th e vie w I a m suggesting. Th e first are thos e who yearn fo r a mor e comprehensiv e "synthesis " o r "integration " i n criticism tha n yet exists, and propose to achieve thi s by a more or less eclecti c puttin g togethe r o f variou s distinc t system s o r ap proaches or at least of what appear to be their sounde r parts. No one, perhaps, has committed himself more ardently to this natural aspiration than Mr . Stanley Edga r Hyman , in his portrait o f th e "ideal critic " who would combin e i n hi s wor k th e bes t insight s and technique s o f Edmun d Wilson , Yvo r Winters , T . S . Eliot , V. F . Parrington , Van Wyck Brooks, Maud Bodkin, Christophe r Caudwell, Joh n L . Lowes , G . Wilso n Knight , R . P . Blackmur , I. A . Richards, William Empson , Kenneth Burke, Jane Harrison , John Crowe Ransom, Cleanth Brooks , etc., whil e discarding wha t is "irrelevant , worthless , o r private t o them" ; th e "actua l critic, " he confesses , would b e satisfie d t o ai m a t a mor e modes t kin d of integration. 28 A less ambitious critic of this school is Mr. R. P. Blackmur, wh o ha s recentl y proposed , a s on e remed y fo r th e narrowness of contemporary criticism , a n "alliance" or "marriage " between Aristotl e an d Coleridge : fro m th e on e h e woul d tak e "the notion s tha t stil l liv e i n th e followin g se t o f si x terms, " 28

namely, praxis, mimesis, mythos, ethos, pathos, katharsis, to gether wit h suc h "forma l term s abou t th e plot " a s desis, crisis, and lysis; fro m th e other , "the notion s in th e se t o f three words — not an y on e or an y tw o bu t th e se t o f al l three words"—namely , esemplastic, coadunative, and synergical.2Q Th e result, he implies , would b e somethin g better tha n eithe r o f th e tw o critic s take n separately, since , wherea s th e term s o f Aristotl e appl y "t o th e behaviour o f th e thing s indicate d b y th e words " o f poetry , th e terms of Coleridge, which "apply t o th e behaviou r o f words an d are th e attribute s o f imagination in words, " woul d giv e us, a s a supplement to Aristotle's account of the subject-matte r of poetry, "a fre e heuristi c psycholog y of poetry , a ric h partia l mean s fo r finding out wha t i s i n th e word s o f poetry, an d a n equall y ric h partial mean s of puttin g th e maximu m meanin g int o th e word s we use ourselves." And this sort of synthesis would be in harmony, he says , with "th e rhetorica l traditio n o f th e Europea n min d which reached it s tru e height s o f articulate imaginativ e richness in St. Augustine and Dante : t o whom all the mode s of the min d were equall y parts an d instrument s of aestheti c experience , an d each wit h a warran t to correct , modify , complete , and incarnat e each of the othe r modes." I a m quite unabl e to imagine what th e "integrated" criticism proposed by Mr. Hyman would be like; bu t it is surely evident that the offsprin g o f Mr. Blackmur's suggested alliance woul d have only the mos t remote resemblance to eithe r of it s parents: it migh t or might not have important virtues o f its own a s a newl y invented language , but thes e woul d b e n o ade quate substitut e fo r the separat e an d distinctiv e virtue s of either Coleridge o r Aristotle, and we should end , were his suggestion t o lead t o the ris e of a new critica l orthodoxy , in being worse off in analytical resources than w e were before, just as criticism i n th e Neoclassical perio d wa s rathe r impoverishe d tha n enriched , o n the whole , b y th e simila r effor t o f th e Renaissanc e t o "marry " Aristotle and Horace. What, however , is most of all incompatible wit h the pluralisti c account of criticism I have been developin g i n this lecture i s th e common assumptio n that underlie s al l th e verba l war s betwee n critics i n differen t tradition s an d inspire s th e frequen t assertion s that this, whatever i t may be, is the "proper" or "only profitable "

29

way of studying poetry or reading Shakespeare. There is of course an importan t sens e i n whic h al l o f us , i f w e ar e t o accomplis h anything i n criticis m o r an y othe r science , mus t b e dogmatists . We must , that is , attach ourselve s to som e particula r se t o f first principles i n which w e have faith , a t leas t fo r th e tas k i n hand , and proceed t o use these in the solution of such problems as they allow us to deal with; and we cannot be required t o demonstrate the "truth" of the principles we adopt any more than the physicist is required to prove that matter or atoms exist; it is enough if we are able, by working with them, to achieve positive and verifiabl e results o f th e kin d we want. This is dogmatism, but o f a n indis pensable an d salutary sort, without which no progress coul d eve r take place i n an y of the science s or arts; an d i t ough t not t o b e confused wit h th e negativ e an d preclusiv e typ e o f dogmatis m that shows itself s o often nowaday s in the mutua l recrimination s of aestheti c critics an d historica l scholars , i n th e man y attempt s to legislat e agains t critica l "heresies " an d "fallacies " (th e "in tentional fallacy, " th e "affectiv e fallacy, " th e "didacti c fallacy, " and s o on), in the numerou s debates a s to wha t poetr y "really " is o r a s to whethe r ther e i s on e "myth " o r many . Much sincer e fervour an d eloquence , an d ofte n muc h bitternes s ove r th e re fusal o f othe r critic s t o agree , hav e gon e int o th e assertio n o f these exclusionis t positions , an d muc h valuabl e pape r ha s bee n consumed; an d al l t o n o purpos e excep t th e stultifyin g on e of making communicatio n amon g critic s o f differen t school s un necessarily har d an d deprivin g the m o f bot h inclinatio n an d ability t o learn from on e another. Fo r what lurks in all these an d similar quarrel s amon g critics i s a confusio n o f th e secon d wit h the firs t o f Professo r Carnap' s tw o type s o f questions ; the y ar e actually controversie s no t abou t problem s an d statement s bu t about frameworks ; an d the y woul d b e impossibl e excep t fo r a tacit identificatio n o f th e "real " o r metaphysica l natur e o f th e objects th e criti c i s talkin g abou t wit h th e particula r term s i n which h e ha s chose n t o discus s them—o f poetry , fo r example , with what he can get out of a scheme of concepts in which poetry is equate d uniquel y (say ) wit h th e poeti c process , o r wit h th e poet's imaginative vision, or with the expressio n of a certain typ e of knowledge , o r wit h languag e o f a certai n kind ; whenc e i t 80

naturally follow s tha t th e criti c wh o think s i n thi s wa y i s no t content t o asser t proposition s mor e o r les s warrante d b y hi s chosen schem e bu t mus t insist o n denying , a t leas t b y implica tion, the truth or relevance of any propositions no t s o derived . The pluralistic critic , o n the othe r hand , would tak e th e vie w that the basic principles an d methods of any distinguishable mod e of criticis m ar e tool s o f inquir y an d interpretatio n rathe r tha n formulations o f the "real" nature o f things an d tha t th e choic e of any specia l "language, " amon g the man y possible fo r th e stud y of poetry, i s a practical decisio n to be justifie d solel y in term s of the kind of knowledge the critic want s to attain. H e would be no less zealous than the dogmatic critic in going about such positive tasks i n criticis m a s he migh t wis h to pursue ; h e woul d merel y waste les s tim e i n controversie s o f th e invidiou s kin d I hav e spoken of . Fo r h e woul d understan d tha t critica l approache s o f the most diverse sorts can coexist without implying either contra diction o r inconsistency . H e woul d kno w tha t i f h e foun d i t essential o r usefu l fo r hi s ow n purposes to conceiv e of poetry a s communication or expression of meaning or as a form o f cognition or a s "symboli c action, " thi s woul d i n n o sens e invalidat e th e analytical device s or the conclusions of another criti c who started from th e hypothesi s tha t poetry , o r som e poetry, i s a mod e of imitation; fo r h e woul d se e tha t completel y differen t aspect s o r relationships o f poetr y ar e involve d i n th e tw o case s an d tha t there is no way of impugning the "truth" of either view except in terms o f assumption s peculia r t o th e other . H e woul d know , similarly, tha t i n a critica l discussio n centrin g i n th e creativ e processes commo n to imaginativ e writers o r in genera l qualitie s of language and thought (suc h as the "sublimity " o f Longinus or the "maturity " of Mr. Leavis), distinctions of literary kinds might well be irrelevant, bu t that this would not entitle him to say that such distinction s ar e i n themselve s meaningless or without basi s in reality, o r that othe r critics , concerne d with inquirie s int o th e nature o f poetic products, ar e in error when they assign to them major importance . I n practica l criticism , again , h e woul d know that poeti c work s ar e boun d t o appea r a s differen t kind s o f structures an d t o sugges t quite differen t observation s when the y are place d i n differen t analytica l contexts , an d h e woul d b e 31

careful t o ask what context has been chosen and for what reasons before dismissin g a critic's observations on a given poem a s false or besid e th e point . H e woul d expect , fo r instance , tha t th e structures discovere d i n Shakespeare's play s would not tur n ou t to b e th e sam e in a critica l contex t in whic h th e play s ar e con sidered a s dramati c work s designe d t o pleas e contemporar y theatregoers, a s in a context in which attention i s focused on th e analogies betwee n the m an d thei r archetype s i n ritua l o r myth; but h e woul d se e no reason fo r condemnin g the secon d typ e of study as such because it is not as useful a s the first for the literar y critic o r historian o r for condemnin g the firs t typ e becaus e i t i s not a s usefu l a s th e secon d fo r critic s intereste d i n analysin g poetry, a s Mis s Bodki n does, fo r th e sak e o f th e insight s i t ca n give us into th e "universa l forces " operating i n ou r natures . H e would, in short, look upon critical principles , whether hi s own or others', not a s sectarian dogma s to be defende d on metaphysical grounds, but a s instruments of research and appreciation , an y set of whic h i s necessarily limited i n relatio n bot h t o th e aspect s of poetry i t brings into view and t o the kind s of conclusions it per mits the critic to reach. He would still be a dogmatist in the first of ou r two senses; but h e would understand that th e trut h o f any statements he may make is relative not only to the objective fact s to which his principles are applied an d in the light of which their relevance is guaranteed, but t o the nature and scope of the prin ciples themselves , an d h e woul d tak e car e no t t o indulg e i n assertions a s to wha t poetr y o r poeti c structur e "really " i s o r a s to wha t i s th e "proper " wa y o f approachin g i t tha t impl y an y supposition tha t wha t i s "real " o r "proper " i n hi s schem e o f principles is "real" or "proper" absolutely . VI

All thi s doe s no t mean , however , tha t ther e ar e n o genera l standards fo r distinguishin g th e bette r fro m th e wors e i n th e performances o f critic s o r fo r makin g comparativ e valuation s among th e differen t existin g languages of criticism . I n th e firs t place, whateve r th e characte r o f a critic' s language , w e hav e a right t o hol d hi m t o th e accepte d canon s o f reasonin g an d 32

hypothesis-making, as well as of common sense, that apply in any branch o f inquir y dealin g wit h particula r things . I t ma y b e highly useful, fo r certai n purposes, to consider poetry as a specia l kind o f language ; bu t somethin g i s surel y amis s whe n th e dif ferentia o f poetic language the criti c choose s concentrates atten tion o n device s whic h ar e demonstrabl y no t peculia r t o th e particular body of works he has agreed t o call "poetry," or when the inherence in all poems or all good poems of the characteristi c he ha s selected—whethe r it b e "ambiguity, " "paradox, " "irony, " or somethin g els e o f th e sam e sort—depend s largel y o r solel y upon hi s havin g applie d t o the m a techniqu e o f reading deter mined by the very hypothesis he is attempting t o establish. 80 Or, again, althoug h w e ca n hav e n o quarre l wit h a n approac h t o classical poetr y o r dram a tha t seek s t o trac e th e survival s in i t of it s origins in primitive myth and ritual, there ca n be n o sound inference fro m th e fact , o r suppose d fact , tha t myt h an d ritua l are symboli c structure s t o th e conclusio n tha t Gree k epi c o r tragedy i s therefor e likewise symbolic ; for t o argu e i n thi s wa y is t o assum e that th e develope d stat e o f anythin g ca n b e full y known fro m a consideratio n o f it s initia l state ; an d thi s is a fallacy whethe r i n criticis m o r in anythin g else. 31 Of th e requirement s o f proo f i n practica l criticis m an d in terpretation, little need be said . It i s no doubt possible t o justif y the mos t extrem e "libert y o f interpreting " whe n criticis m i s frankly concerne d wit h th e practica l use s t o whic h poem s may be pu t b y reader s irrespectiv e o f thei r authors ' intention s i n composing them; they can then be made to say or to mean whatever i s mos t relevan t t o ou r interest s o r needs ; an d wh o ca n rightly objec t if this is what we want to d o and i s plainly adver tised a s such ? Bu t mos t mode s o f criticism , howeve r differen t their languages , have assumed that thei r theorie s ar e applicabl e to poem s in way s that requir e som e sort o f verification in term s of what was actually put into the poems by their poets; and when such is the case , there can clearly be n o sufficien t excus e for an y "critical" interpretatio n o f a poe m tha t canno t b e reconciled , except b y specia l pleading , wit h th e result s o f a n independen t and properl y conducted grammatica l and historica l inquir y int o the probabl e intention s o f it s write r an d th e meaning s o f hi s 33

words. Here criticis m and philology can never be a t odds , whatever th e critic' s principles , althoug h i t mus t be sai d tha t whe n the philological evidenc e conflicts wit h itself, the critic ma y have to decid e i n th e ligh t o f th e bes t hypothesi s h e ca n for m con cerning th e artisti c inten t o f the poe m or passage. And any such hypothesis—again whateve r th e critic' s principles—i s subjec t t o scrutiny accordin g t o th e genera l rule s fo r hypothese s whic h most scholar s instinctivel y kno w bu t whic h man y critic s cheer fully disregard. There is the rule, for example, that any hypothesis must be verifiabl e by th e reade r i n term s o f evidence whic h h e can examine for himself by means of his ordinary faculties supplemented b y th e relevan t information ; thi s i s inconsistent wit h al l those not infrequent arguments by critics (o f whic h we shall see some example s in a later lecture) t o th e effec t tha t th e trut h of their contention s shoul d b e eviden t t o an y on e wh o ha s th e requisite sensibilit y fo r readin g poetr y o r wh o wil l thin k abou t the matte r a s lon g o r a s har d a s th e criti c himsel f ha s done . Critical insights int o poems are not worth having on these terms . And only less shocking, though eve n more often t o be me t with , are th e argument s tha t requir e us , a s a conditio n o f receivin g the ne w trut h th e criti c ha s t o offer , t o disregar d ou r natura l emotional response to the poem when we read it naively withou t benefit o f the critic's hypothesis. An instance of this that deserve s to becom e classi c i s Mr . Wilso n Knight' s essa y o n Hamlet, i n which we are told that, if only we will "refuse t o be diverted fro m a clea r visio n b y question s o f prais e an d blame , responsibilit y and causality , an d watc h onl y th e action s an d reaction s o f th e persons a s the y appear, " an d i f bnl y w e wil l refuse , i n readin g the play , t o "thin k i n term s o f logic," w e shal l the n "observ e a striking reversa l o f th e usua l commentary " on what i s goin g o n in Shakespeare's tragedy : w e shall see , amon g other things , tha t Hamlet himself , throughou t th e action , i s a figur e o f deat h an d evil, a n incarnatio n o f "bitterness , cruelty , an d inaction " whic h "spreads it s effect s outwar d amon g th e othe r person s lik e a blighting disease, " wherea s Claudius , i n spit e o f hi s origina l crime, i s a perso n whose faults "ar e force d o n him" an d wh o i s "distinguished b y creativ e an d wis e action , a sens e o f purpose , benevolence, a fait h i n himsel f an d thos e aroun d him , b y lov e 34

of hi s Queen. . . ," 32 Bu t why, w e ar e boun d t o ask , mus t we make thes e refusals ? An d ther e seem s t o b e onl y on e possibl e answer: because , withou t them , ther e coul d b e n o "strikin g re versal of the usua l commentary." The whol e procedure, i n short , is one designed t o save, not th e phenomena , bu t th e hypothesi s about Shakespear e an d dramati c poetr y t o whic h Mr . Wilso n Knight has attached his faith. But w e ca n g o farthe r tha n thi s and , stil l i n a n undogmati c and pluralisti c spirit , rais e questions concernin g the comparativ e efficacy o f critica l "languages " themselves . And w e ca n d o thi s because, although all organized knowledge of literature is necessarily containe d i n particula r an d widel y differin g formulation s of it s nature and characteristics , w e all of us possess, in addition , a more or less extensive subcritical or common sense acquaintance with literature o r poetry in the ligh t o f which we may judge the relative adequac y an d appropriatenes s o f the variou s systems of terms tha t hav e bee n develope d t o explai n it . W e kno w tha t poetry, howeve r w e ma y defin e it , i s a n integra l par t o f life, i n complex relationship wit h other things, but tha t it is, at the same time, something which we prize for its own sake as distinct fro m nature, huma n action , religion , science , philosophy , history , o r rhetoric, though all these may be involved in its genesis and content. W e know , too, tha t wha t w e cal l poetr y i s no t al l alike , even if collectively it appears to constitute one distinctive branch of huma n activity ; w e valu e differen t poem s fo r th e differen t peculiar pleasure s the y giv e us , an d w e ar e awar e tha t thes e differences ar e determined , i n n o simpl e way , b y interrelate d differences i n language, subject-matter, technique, an d principle s of construction . And w e know that poetry , like everythin g else , has had a long history from it s origins in human activities whic h we ar e accustome d t o cal l b y othe r name s tha n poetr y t o it s present highl y diversifie d stat e a s a kin d o f art . Here then ar e the materia l objects of criticism; and the y ar e of such a nature, an d criticis m itself, as we have seen, is of such a nature, that it is futile t o look for any critical languag e which, in constructing, a s i t necessaril y must , a particula r se t o f term s capable o f directin g attentio n t o a certai n aspec t o f literar y phenomena and i n using this as the sourc e of its data, will not a t

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the sam e tim e exclude from consideratio n othe r aspect s equall y important. Suc h specialization i s th e pric e o f knowledg e in an y field; wherefore criticism can be said to flourish in a given period in proportio n a s th e language s availabl e t o critic s ten d t o b e collectively commensurat e with th e diversit y o f aspect s whic h literature o r poetr y present s whe n looke d a t wit h th e eye s of common sense. That is why the lust for orthodoxy or the "proper " approach in criticism i s so pernicious a passion. Bu t short o f this collective adequac y o f criticis m t o it s objects—whic h w e ma y hope fo r bu t neve r expec t t o see—w e ma y recogniz e degree s of adequacy as between die particular critica l languages with which different individua l critics are content to work. The power of any critical method is a function at once of the analytical precision and the rang e o f the compenden t concepts i t afford s withi n th e con fines o f it s specia l view ; an d thos e are , generall y speaking , in ferior an d relativel y unfruitfu l method s whic h hav e term s fo r dealing wit h onl y on e o r a fe w o f th e man y cause s o f poems , confining thei r effectiv e distinctions , fo r example , onl y t o th e psychology of the poe t o r to poetic subject-matte r or language; 33 or whic h ar e capabl e onl y o f distinguishin g poetr y fro m othe r things bu t no t o f differentiatin g precisel y th e variet y o f poeti c structures an d effects; 34 o r whic h permi t th e consideratio n only of th e conventiona l an d historica l aspect s o f poeti c work s i n abstraction fro m thei r artisti c principle s or , conversely , mak e difficult a consideratio n o f poems in term s o f circumstance s an d history; o r which res t upon suc h a genera l o r simple hypothesi s that the y invariabl y ten d t o reduc e th e particularitie s an d de veloped structure s o f poetr y t o a commo n denominator o f uni versal an d henc e aestheticall y insignifican t huma n traits. O f this last kin d o f inadequac y n o on e ha s spoke n mor e sharpl y tha n C. G. Jung in hi s commen t on the psychoanalytica l reduction of poetic works to "the sphere of general human psychology, whence everything els e beside s ar t ma y proceed. " "An explanation o f a work o f art obtaine d i n this way is just a s great a futility as th e statement tha t 'ever y artis t i s a narcissist / Ever y ma n wh o pursues his own line to the limit of his powers is a 'narcissist' . . . hence such a statement say s nothing; it merely elicits surpris e in the styl e o f a bon-mot"B5 An d what i s true o f the Freudia n pro 36

cedure i s surely true , fo r th e sam e reason, o f such othe r reduc tions i n criticis m a s thos e o f poetr y t o myt h o r o f al l ar t t o symbolic expression: they never allow us, in our discours e about poetry, t o g o beyon d th e simpl e an d undifferentiate d term s i n which their premise s ar e framed , s o that w e gai n i n universalit y at th e cos t of being unabl e t o say anything to the point . There ar e doubtles s n o absolutel y inappropriat e scheme s of critical terms , sinc e i t i s har d t o thin k o f an y whic h hav e no t permitted critic s t o mak e statement s tha t ca n b e see n t o b e relevant, i n some sense and however remotely, t o ou r experienc e of work s of art. Bu t I woul d rais e th e question , finally , whethe r what I have called the "matter o f fact" criticisms (o f whic h ther e have been a good many varieties) ar e no t les s likely, in general , to d o violenc e t o ou r commo n sense apprehensio n o f literatur e or poetr y tha n th e "abstract " criticism s I hav e contraste d wit h them. The "abstract" method, as Hume said, apropo s of its use in morals, "ma y be mor e perfect i n itself , bu t suit s les s th e imper fection o f human nature, an d i s a commo n source of illusion an d mistake in this a s well a s in other subjects." 36 I t i s a method, for one thing, tha t encourage s the inventio n o f occul t qualitie s an d the preoccupation wit h problem s tha t arise fro m th e relationshi p of thes e t o one anothe r i n th e critic' s dialecti c rathe r tha n fro m any empiricall y verifiabl e connection s amon g things , wit h th e result, ver y often , tha t theoretica l debate s ar e se t goin g whic h admit o f n o possibl e resolutio n sinc e the y defin e n o concret e facts t o which we may appeal. Thi s i s the case , I think , wit h al l the discussion s in recent years, especially among Shakespeareans, about the general nature of "tragedy" an d the implications o f this nature (whic h is defined variousl y by differen t critic s bu t alway s as a kin d o f Platonic essence ) fo r suc h question s a s whethe r o r not "th e tragi c pictur e i s incompatibl e wit h th e Christia n faith , or with an y for m o f religious belief tha t assume s the existenc e of a persona l an d kindl y God." 37 Bu t bot h "tragedy " an d "th e Christian faith " are her e abstractions , o r construct s o f the critic , having little to do with what individual poets were engaged upon when the y compose d seriou s plot s o f on e o r anothe r kin d an d called som e o r al l o f the m "tragedies " o r wit h wha t individua l men an d wome n at differen t time s hav e though t abou t Go d o r

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about wha t they took tragedy to be; an d th e issu e can never b e settled because it is a pseudo-issue, one which is made to look like an issue of fact but which really has no identifiable reference out side the gam e of dialectical counter s in which it has arisen. And other difficultie s appea r when schemes of literary value s thus de rived are used in the examination of particular works. For we then get typically judgments by reason rather than sentiment, in which the critic' s predetermined scal e o f better an d wors e rather tha n the peculia r inten t an d for m o f th e poe m inevitabl y condition s what i s said ; a s i n Mr . Ransom' s stricture s o n Shakespeare' s seventy-third sonnet 38 or Mr. Leavis' objections to the metaphors in Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind." 39 From all which I conclude , not that the "abstract" method has no justifiable use s in criticism , but tha t ther e ar e man y question s t o whic h i t ough t no t t o b e applied i f we are intereste d i n somethin g more than th e pla y of the critic's ideas and sensibility. I hav e ha d t o sa y thes e thing s abou t criticis m i n genera l i n order t o make clear the nature of the language—o r rather, i n th e current slan g I have been using, the "metalanguage"—in which I intend to deal in these lectures with the question of the structur e of poetry . Th e consideration , fo r th e reason s I hav e given , wil l necessarily b e an indirect one, through the medium of the varian t worlds o f critical discourse , or som e o f them, which have determined what the problem has meant and how it has been solved . I shal l attempt , i n the nex t thre e lectures , t o bring th e radicall y different idea s abou t th e structur e o f poetry t o be foun d firs t i n the Poetics of Aristotle and the n i n th e dominan t school o f contemporary critics, into logical relation with the radically differen t types o f languag e i n whic h Aristotl e an d thes e modern s hav e approached no t onl y this bu t al l othe r critica l questions ; an d I shall consider , i n th e fina l lecture , a t leas t on e o f th e way s i n which the existin g languages of practical criticis m need, it seems to me , to b e supplemente d i f we ar e t o attai n a more adequat e understanding tha n w e no w hav e o f th e comple x proble m o f poetic structure.

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Poetic structure in the language of Aristotle WE CA N SEE HO W important th e questio n o f th e structur e of poetr y wa s fo r Aristotl e b y considerin g th e openin g word s of the Poetics. With respect t o poetic itsel f an d its various forms o r species, he will inquire, he says, concerning what power (dynamis) each for m ha s an d ho w plot s ough t t o b e constructe d i f th e poetry i s t o b e goo d (kalos); concernin g als o th e numbe r an d nature of the part s o f which poems are composed ; and similarl y concerning othe r question s suc h a s ar e prope r t o thi s lin e o f inquiry (methodos). I shal l com e bac k t o othe r part s o f thi s statement later on , but for the moment I want to direct attention to its final clause: "and similarly concerning other questions such as are proper to this line of inquiry." We cannot well understand , I think , eithe r wha t th e structur e o f poetr y i s fo r Aristotl e o r why h e make s the proble m o f structure s o central i n hi s poeti c theory or why he treats it as he does, unless we keep in mind, to begin with , how the peculiar 'line of inquiry" undertaken in th e Poetics i s related t o th e variou s other inquirie s whic h mak e up his philosophic system. The characte r o f thi s relatio n ca n b e exhibite d mos t simply , perhaps, by contrasting Aristotle with nearly all the other philosophers o f comparable scope who have included poetr y o r the fine arts amon g the subject s t o which the y have give n seriou s atten tion. I f w e loo k int o Plato , fo r instance , w e fin d that , althoug h poetry an d musi c ar e treate d rathe r differentl y i n differen t contexts i n th e dialogues , th e fundamenta l language o f th e dis 39

cussion i s alway s th e same , an d i t i s th e same , also , a s th e language in which Plato discusses all other questions : n o matte r what th e subject , th e dialecti c i s invariabl y controlle d b y hi s central proportion s o f bein g an d becoming , knowledg e an d opinion, an d b y th e referenc e o f everythin g ultimatel y t o th e One and the Good. There is a similar unity, also, in David Hume , although th e underlyin g schem e o f terms coul d no t easil y diffe r more widely: n o matter wha t particular aspec t o f poetry o r any other subjec t i s bein g discussed , th e premise s o f Hume' s argu ments ar e alway s derived, directl y o r indirectly , fro m hi s basi c distinctions o f impressions and ideas , th e understandin g an d th e passions, abstrac t relation s an d cause s an d effects . An d s o to o with philosophers a s diverse i n other respects as Hobbes, Hegel , Croce, Dewey, and the contemporar y theorists o f symbolic structure: there is in al l of them onl y one language fo r talkin g abou t poetry and the art s either i n themselves or as they are related t o other things . With Aristotle, on the contrary, almos t the opposit e is true. He is the great multilingual philosopher , who constructe d his whole system on the assumption that, while everything in th e world, includin g poetry , i s inextricabl y connecte d wit h every thing else, the essential condition of knowledge is a strict divisio n of labou r amon g the variou s sciences an d art s an d th e constitu tion o f an y scienc e o r ar t a s a distinc t lin e o f inquir y differin g from othe r inquirie s b y havin g som e specifi c an d limite d aspec t of natur e o r huma n lif e a s it s specia l subject-matte r an d som e specific an d limite d kin d o f knowledge a s it s end. 40 Th e syste m of term s used i n any science or art, therefore , and th e principle s of reasonin g i t employ s ar e necessarily relativ e to th e particula r aspect o f things it deals with and to the particular kin d of knowledge it pursues, and they will not be the same, except by analogy, in any other genericall y distinc t ar t o r science. This, however , is a division not of things but o f sciences; and since any distinguish able existin g thing , suc h a s poetry , present s a multiplicit y o f aspects an d relations , i t ca n b e take n a s a possibl e subjec t of inquiry o r sourc e o f dat a i n man y differen t science s o r arts , i n each of which th e characte r o f the discussio n will be determine d by th e distinctiv e aim s an d th e distinctiv e basi c truths , hy potheses, and methods of the art or science itself . 40

If w e wish, consequently, to extract a general theory of poetry from Aristotle , w e mus t procee d muc h a s w e woul d hav e t o proceed i f we wanted t o find out what theor y of poetry is taugh t in thi s University . We would no t i n that cas e confin e ou r ques tions t o th e department s o f literatur e bu t woul d conside r als o what i s bein g sai d o r implie d abou t poetry , i n thei r differen t languages, by th e professors , le t u s say , of religion, ethics , logic , psychology, sociology, anthropology, linguistics, an d cultura l his tory; an d wha t w e woul d arriv e a t woul d obviousl y no t b e a single unified explanation , like that, for instance, o f Croce, but a large number of insights into discrete but complementar y aspect s of poetr y such as could hardly be afforde d b y an y one treatmen t of th e subject , however systematicall y comprehensive . Th e cas e of Aristotle , thoug h i n a muc h les s extrem e way , o f course , i s analogous to this. If we are interested i n learning the truth, a s he saw it, about poetry and the other related arts , we must read no t only the Poetics but als o the Rhetoric, the Nicomachean Ethics, the Politics, eve n th e Physics an d th e Metaphysics. An d i t i s characteristic of his philosophic method that the scattered propo sitions about poetry, music, or art in general which occur in these various treatises canno t be pu t togethe r i n any simple fashion t o reconstruct fo r Aristotl e an independent aesthetic s o r philosoph y of art , suc h a s many othe r philosopher s hav e give n us . Th e dif ferent inquirie s d o indee d converge , bu t the y converg e upo n objects which , thoug h empiricall y th e same , ar e give n b y n o means exactl y th e sam e conceptua l statu s o r definitio n i n th e varied "methods " whic h Aristotl e brings t o bea r upo n them . I t would be a serious error, thus, to read th e statement s abou t th e catharsis o f pity an d fea r i n th e Poetics a s logicall y continuou s with th e discussio n o f th e catharti c powe r o f poetry an d musi c in Book viii of the Politics, inasmuch as in the Politics poems ar e being considered (i n anticipatio n o f Mr. F. R . Leavis) a s instruments o f educatio n an d henc e a s efficien t cause s i n relatio n t o the good of citizens, whereas their characte r i n the Poetics is that of final or intrinsic goods in relation to the ar t o f the poet as their efficient cause . Ther e i s n o contradictio n betwee n th e tw o ac counts; but only confusion ca n result fro m assumin g that the concept o f catharsis mus t have th e sam e meanin g an d implication s in th e on e a s in th e other .

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There are, then , i n the philosophic syste m of Aristotle, a good many different language s for talking about poetry, amon g which the languag e o f th e Poetics i s onl y one . I t i s s o described , a s we have seen, in the statement which opens the treatise. Bu t when this has been said, it remains true that among the various ways in which poetry can be discussed by Aristotle—more ways, certainly , than h e himsel f exemplifie d in his survivin g works—th e way de termined fo r th e Poetics ha s a specia l status , sinc e i t i s onl y through th e peculia r term s an d th e peculia r metho d o f poeti c science that it is possible to attain knowledg e of those aspects of poetry whic h distinguis h essentiall y wha t a poe t doe s as poet from anything that he might do, in poetry, as psychological organism, mora l being , philosopher , scientist , politica l propagandist , or member of society . It i s importan t t o observe , therefore , ho w th e term s whic h make u p th e specia l languag e o f poetics i n Aristotl e hav e bee n chosen and put together. An d we cannot but be impressed, i n the first place, b y th e fac t tha t a larg e numbe r o f the m ar e term s drawn fro m on e o r anothe r o f th e non-poeti c science s o r arts . Some o f them—lik e "whole, " "part, " "unity, " "completeness, " "magnitude," "beauty, " and "imitation"—ar e general an d analogi cal term s fro m metaphysics ; others—suc h a s "probability " an d "necessity"—are terms borrowed from physics; others, again—suc h as "hamartia " an d th e variou s words use d t o defin e th e action s and character s necessar y t o th e tragi c plot—ar e term s originall y of ethics ; stil l others—namely , "pity " and "fear " an d th e distinc tions employe d i n discussin g poeti c "thought"—ar e term s whos e primary definitions ar e in rhetoric; an d a few others—notably, th e expressions "soul " an d "organi c unity " a s applie d t o plo t i n tragedy an d epic—ar e clearl y metaphor s fro m biologica l psy chology. There i s nothing, of course, that nee d surpris e u s in thi s fact whe n w e conside r tha t poetry , howeve r distinc t i t ma y b e from othe r things , ha s it s necessar y basi s an d origi n i n huma n nature, derives its subjects from th e ethically discriminable activities o f men , an d affect s us , i n larg e part , throug h ou r capacit y for drawin g inference s fro m word s o r action s an d fo r reactin g to thes e emotionall y a s w e reac t t o simila r statement s o r situ ations i n practica l life . I t i s therefor e connecte d throug h it s causes wit h ever y aspec t o f ou r experience ; an d th e specia l

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science whic h treats of it ca n be mad e truly comprehensive , ac cordingly, onl y i f i t i s constructe d a s a composit e scienc e de pendent upo n man y othe r science s o r art s fo r it s subsidiar y principles; a s Aristotl e explicitl y recognizes , fo r instance , whe n he remark s that th e subjec t o f "thought" i n traged y fall s unde r the art s o f politics an d rhetoric. 41 The Aristotelian expert in poetics, in short, mus t know a good many differen t thing s beside s poetry , bu t i t i s equally tru e tha t he becomes an expert in poetics by virtue precisely o f his abilit y to subordinat e th e term s an d premise s h e derive s fro m meta physics, physics , ethics , politics , rhetoric, psychology , an d s o on, to the peculiar principle s o f his own science. Wha t these are, an d why, we must now go on to consider.42 II

The primary aim of poetics, fo r Aristotle, i s the discover y an d statement o f die principles whic h gover n poets whe n they make good poems ; these, it i s assumed, will als o be th e principle s b y which th e specificall y poetic qualitie s o f existin g poem s ar e t o be judged. 43 It s en d accordingl y i s no t knowledg e fo r it s ow n sake bu t knowledg e fo r th e sak e o f a certai n kin d o f huma n activity, th e purpos e o r good of which determine s th e characte r of th e dat a wit h whic h i t i s concerne d an d th e metho d t o b e employed i n dealin g wit h them . Poetic s i s not, tha t i s to say , a theoretical scienc e lik e mathematics, physics, o r psychology, bu t a practical science much more closely related t o ethics, in which, as Aristotl e remarks , we inquir e no t merel y i n orde r t o kno w what virtu e is but i n order t o become good men and b e abl e t o perform goo d actions. 44 I t differs , nevertheless , fro m ethic s i n one essential respect , namely, that th e goo d i t aim s at i s not t o be found in the activities to which it leads but rathe r in products that persis t beyon d th e action s whic h produc e the m an d hav e values in themselves which are independent o f the characte r an d motives of the agent s who brought them into being, in the sens e at leas t tha t knowledg e merel y o f the agent s an d thei r action s will never enable us to judge adequately wha t they have done. 45 Nor, again , i s poetic s simpl y a n instrumentalis t ar t lik e logic , 43

dialectic, o r rhetoric, inasmuc h a s the construction s i t envisage s have their sufficient reaso n for existing in themselves; an d by th e same toke n i t stand s apar t fro m th e merel y usefu l art s suc h a s medicine or house-building . It s status , i n short , i s that o f a pro ductive science, 46 a s Aristotle would cal l it , o f which th e en d i s the makin g of product s tha t hav e beaut y o f som e sor t a s thei r distinguishing characteristic , bein g thing s t o whic h w e attribut e value for th e intrinsi c excellenc e of their makin g rather tha n fo r any further utilit y they may be mad e to serve. But wha t doe s productive scientifi c knowledg e of suc h thing s consist in, and how may it be obtained? They are, to begin with , like th e object s o f th e biologica l sciences , thing s generate d ou t of pre-existen t material s b y a certai n process . Henc e the y exis t and ar e full y knowabl e only as "concrete wholes"—a s things, tha t is, o f whic h w e ca n giv e a n adequat e accoun t onl y whe n w e specify bot h th e matte r o r elements of which the y ar e compose d and th e form , o r principl e o f structure , b y reaso n o f which thi s matter ha s th e characte r o f a definit e existin g thing , th e tw o aspects o f matter an d for m bein g inseparabl e i n fac t bu t separ able analyticall y i n ou r account; 47 an d i n al l suc h thing s th e form, o r synthesizing principle , i s most completely expressed , fo r any specifi c whole , by it s peculiar dynamis o r "power." 48 A good instance i s th e huma n eye , a complet e understandin g o f which , as a distinctiv e kin d of biological synolon (whe n i t i s viewed a s the subject-matte r o f ophthalmology) , depend s o n ou r takin g account no t onl y of it s basi c matter o f bodily tissue s an d o f th e complex structur e o f organ s tha t give s definit e shap e t o thes e even in a corpse, but abov e all o f the powe r of vision, which, i n a livin g perso n wit h goo d eyesight , i s th e animatin g for m o r function o f th e whol e materia l structure . O f suc h wholes , how ever, ther e ar e tw o majo r kinds—thos e whic h com e t o b e b y nature, that is, by a moving principle inheren t in their matter (a s acorns grow into trees), and those which come to be by art , tha t is, by a principle, outsid e th e matter , i n th e min d o f the huma n being wh o bring s the m about : "fro m art, " say s Aristotle , "pro ceed th e thing s o f whic h th e for m i s in th e sou l of th e artist." 49 These las t ar e production s i n th e stric t sens e o f "thing s made, " and i t i s with whole s o f this kind—an d wit h knowledg e relevan t 44

to thei r makin g rather tha n (say ) t o thei r use s o r history—tha t the productive sciences are concerned. The knowledg e they seek , moreover, at leas t a s their ideal , i s "scientific" knowledge ; an d tha t mean s for Aristotl e knowledge of causes or necessary connections among the attribute s of objects within an y fiel d o f research. 50 Ther e ca n b e n o scienc e shor t of this; but necessity , as Aristotle frequently points out, is of several different sorts ; an d th e kin d o f necessit y whic h i s possibl e i n the productive sciences or arts is the same as that which is looked for i n an y o f the science s tha t dea l wit h th e generatio n o f concrete whole s o f whateve r type . Ther e is , h e says , "absolut e necessity, manifeste d i n eterna l phenomena ; an d ther e i s hypothetical necessity , manifested in everythin g tha t i s generated b y nature a s in everything that i s produced b y art, be it a house or what i t may . Fo r i f a hous e o r othe r suc h fina l objec t i s t o b e realized, i t i s necessary tha t suc h an d suc h materia l shal l exist ; and it is necessary that first this and then that shal l be produced , and first this and then that set in motion, and s o on in continuous succession, until th e en d an d final result i s reached, fo r th e sak e of whic h eac h prio r thin g i s produced an d exists . As with thes e productions of art, so also is it with the productions of nature. . . . The fittest mode, then, of treatment is to say, a man has such and such parts , becaus e th e conceptio n o f a ma n include s thei r presence, an d becaus e the y ar e necessar y condition s o f hi s ex istence, or , if we cannot quite say this, which would be best of all, then th e nex t thing t o it , namely , that i t i s quite impossibl e for him t o exis t withou t them , or , a t an y rate , tha t i t i s better fo r him tha t the y shoul d b e there ; an d thei r existenc e involves th e existence of other antecedents." 51 Or, again, if a piece o f wood is to be spli t wit h a n axe , "the ax e must of necessity be hard ; and , if hard , mus t of necessity be mad e o f bronze o r iron." 52 Thi s i s the kin d o f necessity—dependent upo n reasonin g back fro m th e nature o f a n achieve d resul t t o it s necessar y o r desirabl e con ditions—with whic h th e natura l scientist , accordin g to Aristotle, must deal primarily if he is to go beyond the inadequate explanations o f thos e earlie r philosopher s wh o attempte d t o generat e the configuration s of things in the univers e out of the assumption of som e underlyin g materia l principle , suc h a s water , fire , o r 45

earth, and of some moving principle, suc h as heat and cold or love and strife. 53 An d th e necessit y appropriat e t o th e productiv e sciences i s no different : i f w e ar e t o kno w wha t th e parts , an d their characteristics , o f a hous e or a poem of necessity are , an d how the y mus t b e arranged , ou r starting-poin t canno t b e th e materials o f brick s o r languag e w e ar e using , i t ca n onl y b e a conception o f the hous e t o b e erecte d o r th e poe m t o b e com posed a s a completed whol e of a certain kind , since it i s only in the ligh t o f this, a s a first principle, tha t w e can attribute neces sity to anything we may do or refrain from doin g in writing th e poem o r building th e house . It follow s fro m al l this, in the first place, that the primary concern o f poetic s wil l no t b e wit h th e actua l proces s o f poeti c creation but rather wit h the poetic reasoning—from th e characte r of th e en d t o be achieve d t o the necessar y or desirabl e means — that is reflected in this process when it terminates in an artistically successful product ; fo r i t i s onl y o f thi s rationa l elemen t i n ar t that w e ca n hav e an y scientifi c knowledge. 54 W e ca n know , for example, as a matter o f hypothetical necessity , that i f a traged y is to be compose d that will exer t its ful l characteristi c power , i t must have as its principal part a plot of a certain kind and quality and, subordinat e t o this , element s o f appropriat e character , thought, an d diction ; bu t i t i s obviousl y not necessary , i n an y sense of the word, that all good tragedies should come into being by a process o f making that begins wit h th e inventio n of a plo t and the n goe s o n t o th e inventio n o f th e character s an d thei r thought and only as a final step discovers the words; it is often th e case, indeed, tha t the last thing a poet actually comes to perceive in writin g a successfu l poe m i s it s distinctiv e for m o r power , although this is still, from th e point of view of the reasoning upon which th e complete d poe m rests, th e firs t principl e o f his work. It follows also, in the second place, that the productive science of poetry (a s o f an y othe r clas s o f highl y diversifie d productions ) will deal with necessities of two kinds—those which can be identi fied a s essentia l condition s o r part s o f al l poems , onc e "poems " have bee n distinguishe d fro m othe r things , an d thos e tha t ar e specific t o differen t poeti c forms ; an d that , moreover , sinc e knowledge of the forme r i s incomplete without knowledge of th e 46

latter, poetic s wil l ai m characteristicall y a t a causa l analysi s of poetic species , o r at leas t of those that diffe r mos t radically fro m the other s i n thei r peculia r structure s an d "powers. " An d i t follows, lastly , tha t sinc e poetic s i s a practica l science , th e en d of it s inquiries mus t be the discover y of what is the bes t possibl e state, consisten t wit h thei r specifi c natures , t o whic h differen t kinds of poems and thei r part s ma y be brought ; an d thi s means, as we shall see more fully later, that it must occupy itself no t only with th e necessitie s bu t als o with th e possibilitie s o f th e form s it treats in so far as these can be known at an y given time . These are, then, the majo r assumption s upon which the lin e of inquiry pursue d b y Aristotl e in th e Poetics appear s t o rest . W e should expec t hi m t o begi n accordingly , no t wit h a n "abstract " model or analogue from whic h the characte r o f poetry in genera l might be deduced , but simpl y with the notation of a well-known fact—that ther e d o exis t certai n differentiabl e concret e thing s which ar e commonl y called "poetry" ; an d wit h respec t t o these , we shoul d expect him to la y down , as the governin g hypothesi s of hi s inquiry, a propositio n statin g thei r collectiv e natur e suc h as wil l permi t hi m t o reaso n b y hypothetica l necessit y t o th e conditions o f their successfu l production. An d this is what in fac t he does in the secon d sentence of the treatis e when he mentions epic poetr y an d tragedy , comedy , dithyrambic poetry, an d mos t flute-playing and lyre-playing and says of them that they "happen all t o b e imitations " (th e importan t wor d her e i s "happen") . The specifi c subject-matte r o f hi s inquir y i s no w determined : what h e propose s t o investigat e ar e thos e existin g varietie s o f "poetic" works—an d thos e alone—o f whic h th e essentia l natur e and productiv e cause s ca n b e mos t full y understoo d o n th e assumption tha t the y ar e all , thoug h i n differen t ways , "imita tions" of human actions. The implication s o f thi s starting-poin t nee d t o b e carefull y examined i f w e ar e t o mak e sens e o f wha t follows ; an d th e question evidentl y turns , i n th e firs t place , o n th e meanin g of mimesis in Aristotle's usage. It i s clearly a metaphysical term, in the sens e tha t i t ca n be predicate d o f a goo d man y genericall y distinct things; but jus t as clearly i t i s not, as in Plato, a term of universal applicabilit y capabl e o f bein g use d t o discriminat e 47

degrees o f reality o r value wit h respec t t o n o matte r wha t sub jects.55 There ar e no "imitations," for Aristotle, outside the spher e of huma n productions, an d no t al l o f these ar e imitation s in th e stricter sens e i n whic h th e wor d i s use d i n th e Poetics. Fo r generally, a s he say s in th e Physics, "ar t partl y complete s what nature canno t brin g t o a finish, and partl y imitate s her"; 56 an d sometimes, a s in medicine , th e firs t functio n i s more completel y explanatory of what the artist does than the second. In the stricte r sense a n "imitation " i s brought abou t wheneve r w e succeed , b y means of art, i n producing a n analogu e o f some natural proces s or form, endowed with similar powers to affect othe r things or us, in materials which are not naturally disposed to assume of themselves any such process or form; an y poem can thus be said to be an "imitation " whe n i t i s sufficientl y intelligible , a s a concret e whole, on the assumptio n that the poet, i n making it, was intent on using certain possibilities o f language in order to create i n us, by certai n device s o f technique , th e illusio n o f huma n being s more or less like ourselves doing or undergoing something, for the sake of the emotional effects naturall y evoked by such characters, passions, o r action s i n rea l lif e whe n w e vie w the m a s disinter ested bu t sympathetic spectators. This, I take it, is what the term means, an d al l tha t i t means , as Aristotle uses i t i n th e Poetics. He i s simply saying, in effect , tha t th e variou s kinds o f "poetic" works h e intend s t o inquir e int o ar e whole s o f th e particula r variety in which the patterns tha t organiz e the artisti c matte r of rhythm an d speech , an d thu s accoun t mos t completely fo r wha t the poet has to do as poet and for the distinctiv e "powers " o f his creations, ar e pattern s recognizabl y simila r to on e o r anothe r of the morall y determinat e pattern s o f huma n behaviou r w e ar e aware of in life. In saying this he is not committing himself or us to any particular doctrin e concerning the bases of our knowledge of thing s (whethe r "epistemologica l realism " o r anythin g else ) or concernin g th e peculia r valu e o f concret e thing s a s oppose d to abstractions, o r to any dogma of art suc h as would lead u s to prefer "idealized" t o "realistic" representation s or the reverse (fo r imitative poem s ar e equall y "imitations " whethe r the y rende r things as they are, or as they are thought to be, o r as they ought to be); nor is he basing poetics o n a "theory o f imitation" i n any 48

sense that would questio n th e possibilit y o f novelty i n poetr y o r deny t o the poe t th e honourabl e name of "creator." His proposi tion, i n short , i s merely a statemen t o f the inductiv e hypothesi s upon whic h h e propose s t o bas e hi s inquiry ; an d i t i s no t in tended—and thi s i s mos t importan t t o observe—a s a hypothesi s applicable t o all the production s which me n at th e tim e wer e in the habi t o f calling "poems " bu t onl y t o suc h kind s a s "happe n to b e imitations " i n th e abov e sens e o f tha t term . Th e re sulting scienc e o f poetry wil l therefor e b e fa r fro m all-inclusive , and ther e wil l remai n fo r consideratio n i n som e othe r lin e o f inquiry, mor e closel y simila r perhap s t o tha t o f th e Rhetoric,57 all those other specie s of "poetic" productions—no les s admirabl e in their kinds—o f which the organizing principle i s not "imitation " but som e variety of argument or persuasion. It shoul d b e noted , finally , tha t n o proo f i s offere d i n th e Poetics tha t th e kind s o f poetr y bein g considere d ar e indee d "imitations." Th e hypothesis i s simply laid dow n as a basic trut h of th e scienc e to be constructed , fo r which ther e can , in fact , b e no demonstratio n withi n th e scienc e itsel f an y mor e tha n ther e can b e a demonstration , i n chemistry , o f th e "chemical " natur e of th e compound s i t deal s with . Thi s doe s no t mean , however , that th e hypothesi s i s merel y arbitrar y o r tha t a goo d defenc e cannot b e mad e o f it. Tha t i t i s a fruitfu l hypothesis , th e man y distinctions i t give s ris e t o i n th e Poetics whic h ar e obviousl y relevant t o th e productiv e problem s o f poet s mus t leav e littl e doubt; an d it s appropriatenes s t o th e fact s i t i s bein g use d t o explain can easily be see n if we attempt t o work with it ourselves as writers ; fo r i f w e succee d i n doin g i n an y compositio n what the notio n of mimesis, in Aristotle's sense, implies, th e resul t wil l inevitably be a piece of writing, however mediocre, which has the same generic kin d o f structure an d obey s the sam e necessities i n its makin g a s an y o f th e poem s treate d a s "imitations " i n th e Poetics. His hypothesi s lai d dow n an d th e dat a o f poetic s thu s deter mined, Aristotle i s now in a position t o embar k upon th e lin e of inquiry outline d i n hi s openin g sentence . Hi s subject-matte r i s imitative poetry ; bu t thi s present s itself , h e recognizes , no t a s one homogeneous thing bu t a s a number o f more or less distinct 49

species of things, each of which constitutes a n art b y itself i n the sense tha t skil l i n on e o f the m doe s no t necessaril y impl y skil l in any of the others: there is thus an art of tragedy an d a differen t art o f epic, a n art o f comedy and a n art o f dithyramb, an d s o on. It i s tru e tha t thes e differen t form s o f imitative poetr y hav e i n common a good many problems and principles , bu t i f we are t o know how an y o f them i s made when it i s mad e well, w e must have something more specific to reason from than the very general principle o f imitation: w e must also grasp the for m o f each i n a definition o f it s peculia r natur e a s a n artisti c whol e whic h wil l allow us t o infe r wha t it s particula r necessitie s an d possibilitie s are. We can grasp in this way, it is evident, onl y the form s poet s have alread y achieved , s o tha t th e basi c definition s i n poetic s must be ex, post facto an d inductive; bu t w e can know in advanc e what ou r definitions , in general , inus t consis t i n i f the y ar e t o apply essentiall y an d no t merel y accidentall y t o poem s con sidered a s products of art. They must, since poems are "concret e wholes," b e definition s no t simpl y of the for m th e poe t aim s a t and no t merel y o f the matte r h e use s but o f the tw o a s synthe sized; an d the y mus t specif y i n appropriat e term s wha t i s dis tinctive o f th e specie s o f poem s bein g considere d i n bot h it s matter and its form. The first question, therefore, i s what ar e the essentia l respect s in whic h imitativ e poem s may diffe r fro m on e anothe r i n thei r material constitution? This is Aristotle's problem in the first three chapters o f th e Poetics, and th e analysi s he arrive s a t i s o f th e greatest importanc e fo r th e whol e o f th e ensuin g inquiry . Th e different group s o f poems he has mentioned , he says , diffe r fro m each other in three ways : eithe r i n that the y imitat e in differen t matters o r medi a o r i n tha t the y imitat e differen t object s o r forms o r i n tha t the y imitat e differentl y an d no t i n th e sam e manner. Th e derivatio n o f thes e thre e base s o f differentiatio n among imitative poems—or these three generic or material "parts " of an y suc h poem—fro m th e nature o f "imitations " i n genera l i s obvious once we consider that we cannot imitate without having a certai n natura l for m i n mind which w e ar e attemptin g t o embody i n a medium of our ow n rather tha n o f Nature's choosing , and tha t th e result , further , wil l necessaril y var y accordin g t o

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the techniqu e w e us e i n effectin g th e actua l fusio n o f th e two . There must be, then, these three "parts" or structural elements in all imitativ e poems ; an d a littl e reflectio n will mak e clea r tha t besides these , ther e ca n b e n o othe r materia l determinant s o f poetic structur e o f equal importance. In an y individual poem , of course, the thre e element s can be separated onl y in an analytical sense; bu t tha t the y represen t distinc t principle s i n imitativ e poetry i s clear fro m th e fact , t o whic h Aristotl e refers , tha t th e same typ e o f poeti c mediu m ma y b e use d t o imitat e differen t kinds of objects (as when a combination of rhythm, melody, and verse i s employed i n bot h traged y an d comedy) , tha t th e sam e object ma y be brough t before us in differen t manner s (a s whe n the actio n o f a seriou s epi c o r par t thereo f i s dramatize d i n a tragedy), an d tha t th e sam e manne r i s consisten t wit h widel y differing poeti c mean s (a s whe n a pros e dram a i s rewritte n i n verse). They are , therefore , independent variables , al l o f whic h must be discernibl e i n som e determination i n an y poem, but n o one of which, whe n determine d i n a particula r wa y fo r a give n poem, necessitate s an y particula r determinatio n o f an y o f th e others, althoug h i t is true that, wit h respec t t o the imitativ e art s in general , th e selectio n o f one kin d of mediu m rather tha n an other inevitabl y condition s th e kin d o f object s tha t ca n b e imitated i n it—fo r example , in speech, primarily actions, passions, and th e manifestation s of character; i n line and colour , primarily figures; and so on. As principles constitutiv e of the generi c nature of imitativ e poems , moreover, they ar e al l "poetic" or "aesthetic" principles i n equal degree , sinc e poetry, for Aristotle, is a character tha t inheres i n th e nature o f poems a s "concret e wholes " of a certai n kin d rathe r tha n peculiarl y i n an y o f thei r componen t elements. Al l o f them , consequently , mus t b e analyse d wit h respect to their possibilities o f independent variation if we are t o be able to attain a properly specifi c knowledge of any given for m of poetry ; henc e th e resolution , i n Poetics 1-3 , o f th e poeti c medium o f rhythm, discourse, an d harmon y into the possibilitie s of usin g thes e mean s separatel y o r i n combinatio n and , i f i n combination, simultaneousl y o r i n succession ; o f th e object s o f imitation int o th e possibilitie s o f imitatin g th e action s o f me n better than we are or worse than we are or like ourselves; an d of 51

the manne r of poetic imitation into the possibilitie s o f representing the objec t dramatically throughout o r narratively throughou t or by some mixture of these two techniques. Th e discussio n here is restricted t o th e basi c possibilities only , as thes e follo w fro m a consideration of the natures of the three elements supported b y historical examples ; an d a mor e full y develope d poetic s woul d find roo m fo r man y othe r subordinat e an d mor e refine d possi bilities o f variation wit h respec t t o each . Essential, however, as are all these three determinants o f imitation t o th e conceptio n o r definitio n o f an y specie s o f imitativ e poetry, the y ar e no t sufficien t b y themselve s t o giv e u s th e primary knowledg e we need . Eac h o f them, t o b e sure , implie s a certai n rang e o f necessitie s an d impossibilities , a s wel l a s of possibilities, fo r th e poet . Th e ar t o f dramati c imitatio n i s no t the sam e in wha t it demand s or excludes as the ar t o f imitatio n in an y o f th e man y kinds of narrative ; th e writin g o f a pla y i n verse impose s very different requirement s fro m th e writin g o f a play i n prose ; th e thing s tha t mus t be don e or avoide d i n imi tating a comic action ar e by n o means identical wit h th e thing s that th e poe t mus t d o o r refrai n fro m doin g i f hi s subjec t i s "serious"; an d the necessitie s and possibilities of a lyric or a short story ar e o f a widely differen t orde r fro m thos e o f a full-length drama o r a novel . Tha t i s why , fo r Aristotle , thes e distinction s define th e sphere s o f differen t generi c poeti c arts . Hi s primar y interest, however, is in the makin g of individual works which ar e formally distinc t i n th e mor e concret e sens e o f bein g unifie d composites o f a particula r kin d o f object , a particula r kin d o f means, and a particular kind of manner; and i n orde r to b e abl e to reaso n adequatel y t o th e poeti c o f an y o f these , h e clearl y needs t o discover , for an y distinguishabl e species o f them , wha t is it s distinctiv e synthesizin g principle . Tha t principl e i s wha t he calls , in his first sentence, the peculia r dynamis o r "power" of the form—tha t whic h animate s it s part s an d make s of them on e determinate whole , a s the "soul " i s the mos t formal principle , i n this sense, of the living being, and hence the starting-poin t of any biological inquir y int o it s part s an d thei r functions. 58 I t i s th e same i n an y o f th e science s o r art s o f production , a s Aristotle' s example o f the ax e will show. We ma y sa y that a n axe , define d 52

in material terms , is a wedge-shaped piec e o f steel fastene d to a wooden handle of an appropriate lengt h and size; but this , thoug h an adequat e genera l accoun t o f th e part s o f a n axe , woul d obviously be insufficien t fo r an y one , ignorant of axes , who pro posed t o make one, without th e additio n o f the furthe r specification tha t th e piec e o f steel mus t be o f such a characte r an d th e handle s o designed an d attache d t o i t a s t o enabl e th e use r t o cut wood: only with thi s last as a starting-point o f his reasoning, would th e axe-make r kno w precisely wha t an d wha t no t t o do . And so , too, wit h th e makin g an d judgmen t o f imitativ e work s of literar y art , eve n though thes e need hav e n o uses beyond ou r contemplation o f their beauty . We can thus defin e a certain kind of nove l a s a n imitatio n o f a seriou s actio n o f som e length in volving peopl e mor e o r les s lik e ourselves , i n a moderatel y stylized prose , b y mean s of a mixtur e of dramati c dialogu e an d narrative; an d this , u p t o a point , woul d appl y (say ) t o bot h The Portrait of a Lady an d The Master of Ballantrae: i t woul d distinguish them, for example , from novel s like Joseph Andrews or shor t storie s lik e "Th e Dead. " It woul d not , however , enabl e us t o accoun t for th e ver y differen t kind s o f pleasure w e deriv e from th e tw o work s o r t o stat e wit h an y exactnes s th e ver y different artisti c problem s face d b y Jame s an d b y Stevenso n i n composing them . O r consider , again , Tartuffe an d Tom Jonestwo work s which ar e plainly comedies , though i n differen t man ners, inasmuch as they both imitate actions having the ridiculous , in Aristotle' s sens e o f " a mistak e o r deformit y no t productiv e of pai n o r har m t o others," 59 a s thei r basis : i t i s onl y when w e distinguish th e unmistakabl y differen t comi c "powers " o f th e two work s that w e ca n perceiv e ho w distinc t wer e th e obliga tions a s t o incident , character , denouement , an d s o on , whic h Moliere ha d t o observ e fro m thos e whic h hi s commitmen t t o a variant comi c for m impose d o n Fielding . And s o it i s that whe n Aristotl e define s traged y i n Chapte r 6 of th e Poetics he give s u s a formul a which specifie s not merel y the thre e materia l component s necessar y t o th e existenc e o f wholes o f this kind but als o the distinctiv e dynamis whic h i s th e actuality o r for m o f their combination . A tragedy, h e says , i s a form o f imitatio n o f whic h th e objec t i s a seriou s action , com 53

plete a s havin g magnitude ; th e means , languag e usin g al l th e resources o f th e poeti c medium , eac h kin d separatel y i n th e different part s o f th e play ; th e manner , dramati c rathe r tha n narrative representation ; an d th e dynamis, "effectin g throug h pity an d fea r th e catharsi s o f suc h emotions. " I shal l sa y late r what thi s las t claus e seem s t o m e t o mean ; bu t it s functio n i n the definitio n i s indubitabl y tha t o f a firs t principl e o f poeti c reasoning, derive d inductivel y fro m certai n o f th e individua l things include d i n th e scienc e b y it s hypothesis , i n th e ligh t o f which Aristotle, or any poet, ca n make necessary inferences concerning th e writin g o f tragedies a s concret e imitativ e wholes . The poetics of tragedy and its structure now follows, but i t will be useful , befor e considerin g that , t o loo k somewha t mor e closely a t certai n genera l feature s o f th e critica l languag e i n which its principles are stated. Ill

We have seen tha t wha t Aristotle is aiming at i s a productiv e science of poetry having as its primary subject-matter the various necessities involve d i n th e makin g o f poeti c whole s o f on e o r another specifi c kind ; and w e have seen that h e finds a basis for the hypothetica l necessit y h e need s b y concentratin g o n th e poetic produc t a s distinguished fro m th e proces s o f its composi tion, by investigating th e product i n terms of the reasoning whic h constitutes peculiarl y th e ar t o f it s making, 60 an d finall y b y re stricting himsel f to those classes of "poems" which happen, whe n viewed i n their concret e wholeness, to be imitations. The field of poetics i s thu s a severel y restricte d one . I t exclude s fro m con sideration, fo r one thing, a good many types of productions which we ar e won t t o cal l "poems " (it s principle s wil l no t apply , fo r instance, t o works like The Divine Comedy, The Faerie Queene, The Dunciad, o r The Prelude), s o tha t w e nee d no t loo k i n Aristotle fo r an y unitar y theor y o f poetr y suc h a s mos t late r critics hav e sought to erect. An d poetics necessarily abstracts, fo r another thing , fro m th e whol e rang e o f accidenta l o r extrinsi c causes o f poeti c productio n tha t inher e i n th e character s an d intentions o f poets , th e stat e o f poetic language , th e prevailin g 54

conceptions o f poeti c subjects , an d th e taste s an d demand s of audiences. Suc h cause s ar e th e specia l domai n o f th e literar y historian, an d the y ar e o f interes t t o th e poeti c theorist , a s Aristotle indicate s i n a numbe r o f places , a s a mean s eithe r o f testing th e conclusion s of theor y o r o f explainin g why poet s d o not alway s do what thei r ar t requires . The y ca n have, however, only a secondar y place i n poetic s sinc e they ca n obviousl y provide n o ground s fo r necessar y inference s a s t o wha t th e poe t ought to d o or not t o d o if he i s to realize such-and-suc h a for m in his work. The poeti c theorist , nevertheless , ca n hardl y shu t hi s eye s t o the fac t tha t poems , bein g contingen t huma n productions , ar e always the result , in reality, o f a convergence of causes which i n themselves hav e n o necessar y interconnections . Poet s hav e in tentions, but ther e is no inevitable correspondenc e between wha t a poe m turns ou t t o be an d th e origina l purpos e that le d t o it s writing; the languag e of poetry usually differs fro m th e languag e of everyda y life , bu t ther e ar e n o propertie s o f languag e tha t always g o wit h poetr y o r wit h poetr y o f a give n kind ; ther e are a goo d man y possibl e technique s o f poeti c representation , but an y one of these ca n be use d with almos t any type o f object or poeti c means ; and althoug h som e subjects have bee n charac teristic o f traged y an d other s o f comedy , th e histor y o f poetr y makes clea r tha t ther e ar e n o subject s whic h ar e intrinsicall y either tragi c o r comi c apart fro m wha t poet s mak e o f the m i n poems. Th e theoris t o f poetry , a s Aristotl e clearl y saw , mus t take account of this contingency in the phenomena with which he deals. An d that means , in th e firs t place , tha t h e mus t conten t himself with definitions of poetic species whic h specify separatel y all of the cause s that mus t unite someho w if a distinctiv e poeti c whole is to result: thu s it i s that i n the definitio n of tragedy th e first clause points to the poet' s subject, the secon d to the kin d of language he has chosen to use, the third to the technica l proces s by whic h h e has decide d t o pu t thes e together , an d th e fourt h to hi s intentio n o r en d i n writing ; an d w e hav e see n ho w al l these ma y var y independentl y o f th e other s i n differen t poems . But somethin g more positive tha n thi s i s als o implied ; fo r i f w e are t o b e abl e t o reaso n scientificall y fro m th e definition , th e

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various cause s distinguishe d i n i t mus t b e give n a n interna l status comparabl e t o that o f the cause s dealt wit h in an y o f th e sciences o f natura l objects . An d thi s Aristotl e i s abl e t o d o b y virtue of his hypothesis of imitation. Poems are not natural things, but th e varieties of poems he proposes to speak of do have a kind of nature , tha t o f bein g imitativ e structure s mad e ou t o f th e mimetic possibilitie s o f language . Thei r matter , a s complete d wholes, is a determinate selection and arrangement of words, and all the other elements are in a fundamental way contained i n this medium an d hav e n o poetic being apar t fro m wha t i t permits . The object imitated i s internal an d hence strictl y "poetic " in th e sense that i t exist s only as the intelligibl e an d movin g pattern of incidents, state s o f feeling , o r image s whic h th e poe t ha s con structed i n th e sequenc e o f hi s word s b y analog y wit h som e pattern o f human experience suc h as men have eithe r known or believed possibl e o r at leas t though t o f as something that ough t to be . Thi s i s not, then , a theor y o f poetry a s "representation, " with lif e se t ove r agains t ar t a s " a constan t externa l reality" o r subject-matter which art must somehow approximate or do justice to if it is to be good; 61 poetry, for Aristotle, is a complement and analogue of life rather than a copy; and though it is true that the characters i n a tragedy mus t be 'like" ourselves, this i s because, if the y wer e not , th e specifi c "pleasure " assume d fo r traged y would b e impossible . An d it goe s without sayin g that th e sam e thing is true of the manner of imitation, a s the technical principle which governs the particular way in which the object constructed by th e poe t i s disclosed i n his words. There remain s th e fina l caus e o r intention , an d this , too , i s made i n a fashio n internal , sinc e i t i s clea r tha t althoug h th e specific "power " o f a poem becomes actual only in th e mind s of readers o r spectators an d presuppose s genera l huma n capacitie s for emotion , ye t fo r th e poe t himsel f whos e immediat e en d a t least i s assume d to b e th e makin g of a n imitation , th e proble m of wha t i s to b e it s dynamis i s inseparable fro m th e proble m of what exactly , in term s o f the mora l qualities o f the action s an d characters, it s imagined object is to be an d b y wha t selectio n of words and what contrivances of representation thi s object is best revealed. The catharsis through pity and fear which is the peculiar 56

power of tragedy (o r of the kind of "tragedy" Aristotle discusses) is thus a function primarily no t o f causes i n th e audienc e (a s in the Politics) bu t o f how the poe t has constructed his tragic plot: it i s wha t w e experience—an d thi s i s th e definitio n implie d i n Chapter 13—whe n a ma n lik e ourselve s come s t o undeserve d misfortune throug h a complete d sequenc e o f probabl e o r neces sary actions. It i s the forma l caus e of tragic structure i n the most specific sense , an d a s suc h i t necessaril y effect s a hierarchica l ordering of the thre e material parts, the objec t of imitation bein g prior in causal importance to the means and the manner inasmuch as the emotiona l power o f a tragedy—whic h i s the firs t principl e of it s constructio n though no t necessaril y the firs t thin g though t of—depends mos t completely and directly on its action, character, and though t an d secondaril y an d indirectly , thoug h ofte n i n highly significan t ways , on its diction and musi c and it s dramatic and theatrical technique . It i s abou t th e constructio n o f suc h wholes—a t onc e artificial and possesse d o f determinat e "natures " whic h permi t scientifi c knowledge of their production—that Aristotle proposes to inquire ; and hi s proble m i s twofold. On th e on e hand , h e ha s t o collec t his definition s o f particula r specie s o f poetr y fro m th e existin g works i n whic h th e form s an d thei r respectiv e "powers " ar e clearly evident , takin g car e t o distinguis h thei r essentia l artisti c principles fro m th e convention s of material or technique throug h which th e principle s ar e realize d a t an y give n time; 62 an d fro m the definition s thus attained—i n whic h th e conceptio n o f imita tion is specified a s narrowly as possible to fit the objec t imitated , the mean s an d manne r used , an d th e "power " discernibl e i n each species—h e ha s t o reaso n a posteriori t o th e numbe r an d nature o f th e constituen t part s o f eac h for m an d t o it s variou s subspecies. O n th e othe r hand , since , a s h e say s i n th e Nicomachean Ethics, "every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action an d pursuit , i s though t t o ai m a t som e good," 63 h e mus t make clea r a t th e sam e time what ar e th e condition s o f artisti c success and failur e in the poeti c form s h e treats: h e must say, to quote agai n hi s openin g formula , "ho w plot s ough t t o b e con structed i f th e poetr y i s t o b e good." 64 I hav e referre d t o thes e as two problems; the truth is that the question of value in poetry,

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for Aristotle , i s inseparabl e fro m th e questio n o f wha t ar e th e various specie s o f poetry a s define d b y thei r peculia r "powers, " or rathe r i t i s th e directin g en d an d justificatio n o f th e whol e scientific enterprise . But wha t i s th e "good " a t whic h poetic s aims ? Or , sinc e th e good i s a n end , wha t is , fo r Aristotle , th e en d o f poetry ? Som e interpreters o f th e Poetics, having i n min d especiall y th e nint h chapter, hav e though t tha t h e looke d upo n poetr y a s ultimatel y a for m o f cognition—a s a mean s b y whic h w e ma y penetrat e through particular s t o genera l truths , sinc e h e clearl y say s tha t the statement s o f poetr y ar e universals . This , however , a s th e context shows , i s t o confus e wha t i s a n essentia l conditio n o f probability an d necessit y i n plots— a means , that is , o f achievin g completeness o f form—wit h th e en d o f poetry . Th e kind s o f poetry Aristotl e i s considerin g ar e imitations , an d poeti c imita tion, though it i s something more serious an d philosophica l tha n history (sinc e i t necessaril y gain s it s effect s throug h exhibitin g the cause s o f it s action s i n th e character s o f th e agents) , an d though knowledg e and trut h ar e obviousl y involved i n it , i s not itself a mod e of knowledge , as i s eviden t fro m th e referenc e t o Empedocles i n Chapte r 1 . We hav e als o bee n frequentl y told , by critic s wh o thin k i t necessar y t o asser t genera l end s fo r poetry an d wh o conceiv e o f n o othe r possibl e end s tha n thos e comprised i n th e ancien t distinctio n o f instructio n an d delight , that th e en d o f poetry , fo r Aristotle , i s th e givin g o f pleasure ; and h e ha s sometime s been praise d an d sometime s reproache d for taking so low or so sensible a view of the question ; thi s is th e opinion, especially , o f thos e wh o think , thoug h withou t an y textual evidenc e whateve r s o far a s I ca n see , tha t th e Poetics was intende d a s a repl y t o Plato' s indictmen t o f poetry i n The Republic.™ T o interpre t thus , however , i s t o rea d bac k int o Aristotle th e term s o f late r theories—lik e tha t o f Johnson , fo r example—in whic h principle s fo r judgin g poems are derive d no t from a specifi c consideratio n o f th e interna l natur e o f poeti c products but fro m a general analysis of the psychologica l factor s which condition the responses of audiences to them; and the view clearly doe s violence to Aristotle's own conception o f the relation between pleasur e an d it s objects . 58

The mai n poin t o f thi s conceptio n i s tha t pleasur e i s no t a thing i n itsel f tha t ca n b e use d t o defin e adequatel y a n en d of human activity, bu t alway s something which goes with an d completes activitie s whe n the y ar e successfu l an d i s a sig n o f thei r success i n th e participan t o r beholder. Th e tw o are , a s Aristotle says i n th e Nicomachean Ethics, "boun d u p togethe r an d [do ] not. . . admit of separation, since without activit y pleasur e doe s not arise , an d ever y activit y i s complete d b y th e attendan t pleasure"; and the pleasure is greatest (as , for instance, in reading clear handwriting wit h good eyes ) whe n "both the sens e is at its best an d it is active in reference to an object which corresponds. " Activities an d objects , however, diffe r widel y i n kin d an d value ; hence pleasure s diffe r i n th e sam e ways ; an d t o tal k abou t pleasure excep t a s the "prope r pleasure " attendan t upo n a par ticular specie s o f activitie s o r object s an d signifyin g b y it s intensity the quality of any of these, is to talk as little to the poin t as we do, according t o Aristotle, when we attemp t t o defin e th e "good" i n moral s o r anythin g els e i n abstrac t an d universa l terms.66 It woul d be inconsisten t with Aristotle's genera l view, then, t o make pleasure a s such the en d o r good o f poetry; an d th e trut h is tha t tha t i s no t hi s doctrine . H e recognize s i n Poetics 4 tha t men woul d neve r hav e writte n poetr y o r continue d t o rea d i t except fo r th e natura l pleasur e afforde d b y imitation s an d b y ordered arrangement s o f sounds ; an d h e speak s late r o f th e "tragic pleasure " an d th e "pleasur e prope r t o tragedy " an d dis tinguishes thi s fro m th e pleasur e appropriat e t o comedy. 67 Bu t it i s on e thin g t o spea k thu s an d quit e anothe r thin g t o mak e the productio n o f pleasure the genera l aim of the poet' s activity . In Chapte r 4 h e i s sayin g tha t poetr y aros e ou t o f certai n pleasurable activitie s commo n t o al l men , an d i n th e late r pas sages h e i s sayin g that th e inferentia l an d emotiona l activit y of witnessing a traged y i s completed , whe n th e traged y i s wel l made an d th e spectato r i s able t o appreciat e it , b y th e peculia r delight whic h goe s wit h th e catharsi s throug h pit y an d fea r of such feelings—i n short , wit h th e achievemen t b y th e poe t o f a complete actio n o f th e kin d distinctiv e o f tragi c imitation , th e catharsis bein g th e pleasur e whic h supervene s whe n a n actio n

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arousing i n u s painfu l emotion s i s brought b y th e poet' s ar t t o its necessar y o r probabl e end . Th e whol e emphasis , tha t i s t o say, i s on the natur e of the poeti c object to which the pleasur e in question correspond s an d o f which i t i s the accompanimen t an d sign fo r whoever can contemplate the objec t with understanding and sensitivity ; and th e goo d which poetic s aim s at, an d whic h the poet , i n s o far a s h e i s a n artist , pursue s a s hi s immediat e end, i s nothin g othe r tha n th e excellen t makin g o f poems , a s poems, i n thei r respectiv e kinds . Now the excellenc e o f anything, for Aristotle , i s the maximum actualization, withi n th e necessar y limits o f it s matter , o f wha t its natur e i s capable of . Th e natur e o f th e kind s o f poem s h e i s dealing with i s to be imitations ; and th e excellenc e o f imitations, in th e sens e o f that whic h the y ca n peculiarl y become , i s t o b e self-sufficient whole s possesse d o f al l thei r necessar y part s an d of thes e rightl y ordere d an d proportione d wit h respec t t o eac h other an d the whole. Completeness , as implying unity and order , and magnitude , a s implyin g appropriat e siz e o r fullnes s o f de velopment—these ar e th e criteri a o f poeti c beaut y i n general : that i s why , i n th e definitio n o f tragedy , it s objec t o f imitation , which i s its chief determinin g part , is said t o be a serious actio n which is complete as having magnitude. Completeness is a matter of th e probabl e o r necessar y connection s o f th e incident s o r o f whatever els e th e objec t consist s of , and th e sig n o f its achieve ment, a s Aristotle says in Poetics 8 , is suc h a clos e interrelatio n of the parts that "the transposal or withdrawal of any one of them will disjoi n an d dislocat e th e whole. " Magnitud e i s a matte r of the more or the less in anything the poet ma y do in a poem, and the right magnitude, as in any of the arts , lies in a mean between too littl e an d to o much . "I n everythin g tha t i s continuou s an d divisible," says Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics, "it is possible to take more , less, or an equa l amount , and tha t eithe r i n term s of th e thin g itsel f o r relativel y t o us ; an d th e equa l i s a n inter mediate betwee n exces s an d defect. " I t i s thu s tha t "ever y ar t does it s wor k well—-b y lookin g to th e intermediat e an d judgin g its work s by thi s standar d (s o tha t w e ofte n sa y o f goo d works of art that it is not possible either to take away or to add anything , implying tha t exces s an d defec t destro y th e goodnes s o f works 60

of art , whil e th e mea n preserves it; an d goo d artists, a s w e say , look t o thi s i n thei r work) . . . ," 68 Th e beaut y o r bes t stat e of poetry, i n short , consist s in th e mutua l adequatio n i n poem s of parts an d whole , matte r an d form , th e bes t poem s being thos e in which th e whol e is such tha t i t subsume s and govern s al l th e parts an d th e part s ar e suc h tha t th e intrinsi c possibilitie s o f none of them are sacrificed t o the achievemen t of a clear but rela tively empt y whole. This is the genera l standard, but i t is obviously not a standar d which a poe t ca n easil y use i n practic e excep t a s a reminde r of the directio n his mind ought to take in considering his problems. These, a s poeti c problems , wil l alway s b e particula r t o th e special kin d of structure an d "power " h e i s trying to giv e t o th e concrete material s o f hi s inventio n (whethe r thi s structur e an d "power" has a commo n name, suc h a s tragedy , o r not) ; an d a s his material s an d poeti c aim s vary, s o also will vary the precis e practical meaning of all such concepts as excess and defect , unity, order, magnitude, and beauty: th e beauty of tragedy is one thing and that of comedy quite another , and the correc t mean between parts an d whol e in a full-lengt h drama o r novel will no t b e th e same as the corresponding mean in a short story or a lyric. Hence the question of better and worse in poetry can never be answered in absolut e terms; the answe r is always relative, no t t o ourselve s (as when dramas are judged to be goo d because they ar e "effec tive" for particular audiences) , but, i n Aristotle's phrase , to "th e thing itself, " tha t is , immediately to th e par t tha t i s bein g con structed an d ultimatel y t o th e for m o f th e whol e t o whic h th e part belong s an d th e peculia r "power " i t i s to have , th e rul e i n any cas e bein g a specificatio n of th e genera l criterio n alread y stated. A s a consequence the theoretica l discussion s of better an d worse i n th e Poetics tend t o b e o f tw o kinds . The firs t o f thes e is illustrate d b y th e argument , in Chapter s 1 3 and 14 , from th e special "pleasure " o f traged y t o th e natur e o f th e plo t an d it s crucial incident s whic h wil l yiel d thi s pleasur e mos t completel y and intensely ; i t i s illustrate d als o b y th e fina l discussion , i n Chapter 26 , o f th e respect s i n whic h traged y i s superior , i n general, t o epic in its capacity fo r realizing th e "power " common to thes e tw o species . Her e th e assumptio n i s o f a n en d t o b e

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achieved, an d th e questio n concern s the mean s best adapte d t o its achievement . I n th e othe r discussion s th e inquir y i s into th e potentialities o f particular parts , an d th e questio n concern s th e kind o f constructio n o f thes e which , generall y speaking , wil l actualize t o th e fulles t degre e thei r respectiv e possibilities ; as , for example , i n th e remark s o n th e probabl e unexpecte d i n Chapter 9 , on th e superiorit y o f comple x to simpl e o r episodi c plots in Chapter s 9, 10, and 13 , on the bes t types of discovery in Chapters 1 1 and 16 , on th e relatio n o f th e desis t o th e lysis i n Chapters 1 5 and 18, and on the chorus in Chapter 18: the criteri a in al l thes e instance s deriv e fro m th e genera l assumptio n that that poetr y i s bes t whic h i s mos t complet e an d self-sufficient — that is , which ha s al l it s cause s within itsel f rathe r tha n i n th e exigencies o f th e poet—an d whic h produce s mos t intensel y it s "proper pleasure. " Th e conclusion s i n bot h case s ar e perforc e general, an d th e problem s o f a poet , i n writin g a n individua l work, ar e alway s particular , inasmuc h a s hi s material s o f stor y and character, imagery and mood, however he has come by them, impose limit s on what h e ca n do , s o that th e theoreticall y bes t thing may not always be within his power. The normative state ments o f poetic s ar e thu s no t invariabl e rule s bu t formulations of wha t ar e i n genera l bette r an d wors e possibilities ; an d th e practical decision s of poets , a s wel l a s ou r judgment s of poems —since, like the mora l choices of men in concrete situations, they depend o n particula r facts—mus t ultimatel y deriv e fro m per ception rathe r tha n theoretica l knowledge. 69 Suc h is necessarily the relation , i n th e productiv e arts , betwee n th e processe s o f making an d reasoning ; bu t thi s doe s no t mea n tha t theoretica l understanding o f th e possibilitie s inheren t i n poetr y o r traged y can safel y b e dispense d with in favou r o f mere instinct o r taste: the poe t wil l b e al l th e better , o n th e whole , fo r havin g con sidered "scientifically " wha t h e ough t t o ai m at i f h e wishe s t o write poems that wil l be artisticall y excellen t in their respectiv e kinds. It shoul d b e recognized , moreover , tha t th e end s o r criteri a of excellenc e specified i n poetics are not end s or criteria impose d on th e poe t fro m without , a s i n man y system s o f "abstract " criticism, bu t deriv e fro m a n examinatio n of the possibilitie s in herent i n th e art s poet s practis e a s thes e ar e reveale d i n wha t

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poets have done. The discoveries of poetics are merely a reduction to principl e o f discoverie s originall y mad e b y poet s themselve s as they have been le d b y geniu s or by chanc e t o realize mor e of the potentialitie s o f imitation tha n ha d bee n know n before. Th e poetic theoris t ca n generaliz e thes e discoverie s an d orde r the m in term s o f his knowledg e o f the natur e o f imitatio n i n general ; but i f Aristotl e ca n poin t out , fo r example , wha t i s th e bette r rather tha n th e wors e typ e o f unity o r magnitud e i n tragi c an d epic action s o r wha t i s th e bes t wa y o f imitatin g i n narrativ e forms o r how poetic illusio n i s most completel y attained , thi s i s because Home r ha d understoo d an d actualize d al l thes e possi bilities.70 I t i s not a questio n merel y o f imitating Home r o r an y other poet s wh o hav e similarl y adde d t o th e resource s o f thei r art (a s Sophocles , fo r instance , adde d th e thir d actor 71) bu t of taking advantag e o f the superio r resource s the y hav e uncovere d and o f movin g farthe r i n simila r directions . An d w e ca n kno w the superiorit y o f anything thu s discovere d i n tw o ways : partl y by examinin g i t i n th e ligh t o f th e possibilitie s inheren t i n th e nature o f imitatio n o r o f (say ) tragi c imitation , an d partl y b y observing ho w it has actuall y worked—b y a deduction, tha t i s to say, fro m genera l theor y supplemente d b y a n inferenc e fro m signs. W e ca n know , thus , b y reasonin g fro m th e assume d en d of tragedy , tha t th e typ e o f plot whic h bes t produce s a catharsi s through pit y an d fea r i s one in which th e event s mov e toward a catastrophic ending , an d ou r reasonin g is confirmed, a s Aristotle remarks, b y th e fac t tha t "o n the stage , an d i n th e publi c per formances, suc h plays , properl y worke d out, ar e see n t o b e th e most trul y tragic ; an d Euripides , eve n i f his executio n be fault y in ever y othe r point , i s see n t o b e nevertheles s th e mos t tragi c certainly o f the dramatists/' 72 It shoul d be easy , in view of this, t o understand th e importan t place whic h th e histor y o f poetr y occupie s i n th e Poetics. The basis o f th e whol e work , indeed , i s historical , inasmuc h a s it s definitions, bein g simpl y induction s o f th e universa l trait s ex hibited b y particular works , must rest upon a wide acquaintanc e with wha t poet s hav e done ; w e coul d neve r know , for example , what the peculiar "power" of tragedy is without direct experienc e of poems in which this "power" i s manifestly present—there being no wa y i n whic h a n actualit y ca n b e inferre d fro m a genera l 63

"abstract" principle. And wha t i s true o f th e definition s o f suc h forms a s tragedy an d epi c i s true als o o f the proposition s abou t their part s an d devices : henc e th e constan t resort , throughou t the Poetics, to historical examples of tragic or epic practice. But, more than this, the histor y of poetry, for Aristotle, is an essentia l means t o th e selectio n o f thos e end s i n poetr y whic h giv e hi m the basi s o f hi s judgment s o f value . Th e end s ar e fact s i n th e sense tha t the y ar e reflecte d i n th e practic e o f poet s whe n poetry, a s imitation o r a s tragic o r comi c imitation, ha s attaine d a stag e o f developmen t i n whic h th e forms , o r som e o f them , "natural" to it exist in their full y differentiate d state , eve n thoug h they ma y b e capabl e o f furthe r particula r development . Henc e the genera l histor y o f poetr y a t th e beginnin g o f Chapte r 4— a history i n whic h poetr y i s shown to hav e originate d i n th e uni versal and natural impulse of men to make and to enjoy imitations because of the pleasure that goes with learning and with melodies and rhythms ; the n t o hav e divide d int o tw o genera l classe s b y virtue o f th e interes t o f som e poets i n representin g me n bette r than we are and o f others in making satirical attack s on the bad , both i n appropriate metres ; an d finally to have eventuated, wit h Homer, i n self-containe d work s o f ar t th e fina l caus e o f whic h is th e beaut y rathe r tha n eithe r th e genera l pleasurablenes s o r the moral utility o f the imitations . What Homer did i n effec t wa s to tak e morall y differentiate d actions , bot h seriou s an d comic , as the object s of his imitations and t o treat thes e in his verses in such a way as not only to reveal more fully tha n his predecessors the natur e an d possibilitie s o f dramatic representatio n bu t also , and mos t significantly, t o sho w that th e perfectin g o f the poeti c whole itself , a s a renderin g i n pleasurabl e word s o f universally intelligible an d emotionall y effectiv e form s o f huma n action , i s a sufficien t en d alik e fo r poet s themselve s an d thei r readers . I t is indeed a final end in two important senses—in the sens e that i t is a n en d peculia r t o th e poeti c ar t rathe r tha n on e imitativ e poetry share s wit h othe r art s o r activitie s an d als o i n th e sens e that it subsume s the othe r end s o f pleasing an d instructing , an d goes beyond them. For it is distinctive o f poetry such as Homer's that it utilizes th e pleasur e we all take in imitation an d rhythm, and th e vivi d interes t w e hav e i n othe r huma n being s an d especially i n th e mora l issues in which the y ca n be involved , i n 64

order t o make objects which we can continue to appreciate, afte r our first curiosity is satisfied, fo r th e sak e of their intrinsic right ness an d beauty . Thi s therefor e i s wher e poeti c theory , i n it s normative aspect, in genera l mus t begin; an d a simila r function , in definin g a starting-poin t fo r judgment s of value, i s serve d b y the brie f historie s o f traged y an d comed y which follo w i n th e second part o f Chapter 4 and i n Chapte r 5 . To say that the foundation s of the Poetics are in history i s not, of course , to say that its propositions have only historical validit y or tha t wha t i t give s u s i s merel y a generalize d descriptio n o f Greek practic e i n epi c an d tragedy . Th e Poetics i s a statement , or at least an outline sketch, of a science, and as such it deals with principles an d cause s rathe r tha n wit h convention s o r poeti c traditions, wit h the artistic necessities and possibilities o f particular forms rathe r tha n with accepte d rule s and models; and these , being universals , wil l always , onc e the y ar e firml y established , continue t o have validity and relevance as long as poets aspire t o write successfu l poems of these kinds. They will not, indeed, hold good, in any strict o r complete way, for poems with structure s of other kinds—an d th e possibilitie s o f forma l differentiatio n i n poetry, an d henc e o f th e continue d discover y b y poet s o f ne w forms an d device s o r o f fres h potentialitie s i n th e old , ar e in definite i n number . Poetics, therefore, ca n neve r b e though t o f as somethin g fixed and determined ; it mus t aim, rather, t o b e a progressive science , alway s lagging somewha t behind poet s bu t never, i f i t i s t o kee p alive , remainin g indifferent t o wha t ne w poets are trying to do. There are signs in the Poetics that Aristotl e was no t unconcerne d wit h th e development s o f hi s day, 73 an d we may be sur e that i f he live d now , with al l th e advantage s of an immensel y fulle r history , h e woul d recognize , fo r example , that mor e ca n b e learne d abou t th e possibilitie s o f beaut y i n tragic plot s fro m King Lear an d The Brothers Karamazov tha n from Oedipus Rex an d mor e about th e possibilitie s o f narrativ e imitation from James and Conrad than from Homer. IV

The onl y typ e o f poeti c structur e whic h Aristotl e discusse s systematically i s tragedy , hi s accoun t o f th e epi c bein g largel y

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an analysis of the difference s betwee n i t an d traged y tha t follow from it s differenc e i n imitativ e manner , o n th e assumption , ap parently, that the specifi c "power" o f the tw o form s i s the same . I shal l spea k here , therefore , mainly of th e analysi s of tragedy . The discussio n begin s wit h th e definitio n i n Chapte r 6 , an d what follows turn s on tw o principal questions , the firs t o f which concerns the numbe r and attribute s o f the part s o r elements an y tragedy mus t have. No w a tragedy , o r an y othe r kin d o f poem, is a whol e i n tw o senses— a quantitativ e sens e an d a qualitativ e sense—and it s structure , accordingly , ha s tw o correspondin g aspects, whic h hav e ofte n bee n confuse d b y late r critics . Th e quantitative structur e o f a tragedy is the dispositio n o f its matte r in discret e sections : suc h in Gree k tragedy, a s Aristotle explains in Chapter 12, are the prologue, the exode, the episodes, and th e choral portion s distinguishe d int o parod e an d stasimon ; an d these have analogues in modern drama in th e traditiona l five-act structure of full-length plays and in Shakespeare's shifts from blank verse t o prose. I n a well-mad e tragedy thes e part s wil l serv e t o mark of f and accentuat e significan t difference s i n th e characte r of wha t is going on in th e poe m itself; but a s structural device s they derive fro m conventio n rather tha n fro m specifi c necessitie s inherent i n th e ar t o f tragedy , an d henc e the y determin e th e form an d effec t o f a tragedy onl y in a secondary way. What th e poet o r th e theoris t o f poetr y mus t b e chiefl y concerne d wit h are those parts the conception and handling of which will directly determine th e qualit y o f th e poeti c whol e itsel f i n th e sens e both o f th e peculia r "power " i t ha s an d o f th e degre e o f it s success i n maximizin g this "power. " O f suc h qualitativ e part s tragedy ha s six , th e firs t three—plot , character , an d thought deriving fro m th e fac t tha t traged y imitate s huma n action s an d that the quality of human actions depends on two natural causes, namely, the moral habits of the agents and their mental processes and states ; th e nex t two—dictio n an d melody—derivin g fro m it s medium of metrical languag e combined with music ; and th e las t —the spectacle—deriving fro m it s distinctiv e manner of imitating through th e us e of actors o n a stage . Thes e ar e necessar y structural parts , an d ther e ca n obviousl y be n o other s co-ordinat e with them; all of them except melody and spectacl e ar e als o th e essential qualitativ e part s o f epic . 66

Only a few of these terms, I think, call for comment. By dictio n (lexis) Aristotl e means simply the arrangemen t of words (or , in tragedy, o f words metrically ordered ) tha t expresse s th e though t of th e dramati c agents . Though t (dianoia) i s wha t th e word s most immediatel y signify ; i t i s manifes t wheneve r th e person s in th e actio n stat e a universa l propositio n o r argu e a particula r point; i t include s proo f an d refutation , the expressio n or arousa l of emotion , an d th e characterizin g o f thing s a s bette r o r worse , important o r unimportant . Characte r (ethos) i s als o somethin g present i n o r inferabl e fro m th e speeches , whethe r thes e ar e speeches merel y or also acts; i n its mos t formal sense , i t i s wha t reveals the mora l purpose (proairesis) o f the agents , tha t is, th e sort of thing they distinctively see k or avoid, but th e ter m can b e broadened t o includ e sign s o f other peculiaritie s o f the speaker s less directl y relate d t o di e crise s o f the action. 74 There remain s plo t (mythos), an d concernin g thi s ther e ha s been a n extraordinar y amount of confusio n amon g commentators on the Poetics. When we examine the text, 75 we see that plot , fo r Aristotle, i s tha t par t o f th e poeti c whol e whic h represents , o r rather constitutes in the poem, the objec t of imitation—in tragedy, a serious action; it is, he says, the synthesi s of the thing s don e or said i n th e pla y (synthesis ton pragmaton). Bu t h e als o insist s that plot i s the en d o f tragedy, it s first principle, its "soul, " as it were; an d h e remark s later tha t a poe t i s a poe t essentiall y b y virtue o f his ability t o make plots, eve n thoug h h e ma y base hi s tragedies o n historica l person s an d events . No w bot h o f thes e last statement s ar e patentl y meaningles s o r fals e i f w e conceiv e of plo t i n any of the severa l fashions whic h have become curren t in modern times: for example, as that w e refer t o when we paraphrase th e stor y o f a pla y o r novel , o r construc t a scenari o o f what happen s i n it s successiv e act s an d scenes ; o r a s tha t w e think o f whe n w e sa y o f Shakespeare , o r an y othe r writer , tha t although h e too k his "plots" fro m earlie r works , he nevertheles s showed grea t originalit y i n fillin g the m in ; o r whe n w e oppos e "plot" t o "character " o r "imaginativ e vision, " o r identif y "plot " merely wit h th e "argument " o f the wor k o r wit h th e patter n of external action s i n contras t t o wha t "goe s o n i n Mrs . Brown' s head." But plot fo r Aristotle is none of these things . I n th e com pletest an d mos t forma l sens e (a s th e end , principle , o r "soul "

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of a work), the plo t of a tragedy is nothing more or less than it s whole objec t o f imitatio n a s thi s i s imaginativel y constructed , with it s necessar y specifications of moral character an d state s of mind, b y th e poe t an d embodie d b y him , i n way s appropriat e to hi s chose n manne r of imitation , i n th e word s of hi s poem ; i t is the tota l imitate d actio n o f the poe m a s qualifie d ethicall y i n such a wa y a s to produc e th e specia l "tragi c pleasure/ ' I n thi s sense, w e ca n spea k o f plot s onl y specifically—a s tragi c plots , comic plots, and so on; and this is the meaning of plot in Chapter s 13 and 14 . But, abstracting fro m this , w e ca n als o spea k o f plo t more generally a s th e specia l kin d o f artisti c whol e o r structur e which i s th e necessar y materia l conditio n o f an y sor t o f poeti c dynamis tha t depend s o n th e imitatio n o f a sequenc e o f human actions; and this is the meaning of plot in Chapters 7 through 11. In bot h sense s plot i s clearly somethin g the poe t constructs , th e difference bein g that , wherea s i n th e secon d sens e plo t i s con ceived o f as a part or substrate (thoug h the most important one ) of tragi c form , i n th e firs t sens e it i s the tragi c for m itsel f i n it s completest actuality . A completed traged y i s an organic whole in which everything , as I have said before, is contained in the words as its indispensabl e artistic matter , s o tha t th e forma l part s o f plot , character , an d thought are , fro m thi s poin t o f view , inseparabl e fro m th e material par t o f diction . Thi s doe s not mean , however, that th e parts whic h Aristotl e distinguishe s ar e merel y "abstractions," as has bee n asserte d b y severa l contemporar y critic s wh o hav e been interested , not i n th e productiv e condition s o f poetry, bu t primarily in the responses to poems of readers or in the reflectio n in poem s o f th e mind s o f thei r writers. 76 Fo r th e poe t a t an y rate ther e i s nothin g unrea l o r "abstract " i n thes e distinctions . They correspond, fo r one thing, to differen t basi c types o f poeti c skill necessar y t o th e constructio n o f a n excellen t traged y bu t not possesse d i n equa l measur e by al l poets . Som e poet s thu s can develo p dramaticall y effectiv e scene s withou t bein g abl e to synthesiz e the m i n a continuou s action wit h sustaine d emo tional power ; other s ar e abl e t o writ e passage s o f dialogu e o f great interes t fo r thei r though t wh o lac k th e capacit y t o mak e their speakers talk like human beings with distinctive personalitie s 68

and mora l characters ; others , again , ar e goo d a t intimatin g character i n appropriat e word s an d though t bu t no t a t settin g their personage s in action ; stil l other s kno w ho w t o writ e tech nically excellen t vers e bu t no t ho w t o mak e i t soun d lik e con vincing speec h or to express in it othe r tha n commonplac e ideas; and there have alway s been would-b e dramatists who have been able t o writ e excitin g o r movin g poems in dialogu e for m whic h could neve r b e successfull y performe d o n a stage . Or , again , a playwright migh t begi n b y sketchin g his tragic plo t a s a whole , with it s constituen t incident s an d necessar y discrimination s o f character an d thought , i n a continuou s sequenc e o f speeches , and then , i n subsequen t rewritings , reconside r eac h o f th e speeches t o se e ho w i t woul d properl y g o i f th e character s o f the speaker s were particularize d furthe r i n suc h an d suc h ways, then wor k through th e whol e agai n fo r th e sak e o f makin g th e thought mor e varied o r interesting, an d the n finally decide tha t it woul d b e bette r t o substitut e vers e fo r hi s origina l pros e o r prose fo r hi s origina l verse . Nor is it true that these distinctions lack reality and importance for th e reade r o r critic . W e ar e bein g affecte d b y th e plo t o f a tragedy, or of any other poem that imitates human actions, whenever w e fee l an y o f it s parts , howeve r minut e o r apparentl y verbal, no t a s isolated beauties , bu t a s moments in a continuou s progression fro m on e situatio n o r stat e o f min d o r o f mora l character t o another , t o whic h w e respon d emotionall y i n a dynamic rather tha n simpl y static way , that is , with expectatio n or suspens e appropriate t o th e for m o f the work . We ar e bein g affected b y character , a s distinguishe d fro m plot , wheneve r w e respond t o speeche s o r actions with feelings—whethe r o f interes t merely o r o f admiration , hate , contempt , o r som e mixtur e o f approval an d blame , o r th e like—tha t res t upo n inference s as t o what kind of human being th e perso n is apart fro m th e situatio n in whic h h e i s engaged . W e ar e bein g affecte d b y thought , a s distinguished fro m bot h plot an d character, wheneve r we have a sense o f passing from ignoranc e to knowledge , or t o mor e complete knowledg e concernin g wha t i s goin g o n i n someone' s mind, or whenever we judge that what is being said is interesting in itself o r peculiarly appropriate to the character o r the situation . 69

And w e are being affecte d b y the dictio n a s such, in abstractio n from it s imitativ e functions , wheneve r w e fee l a n immediat e pleasure i n th e arrangemen t o f th e sound s and word s o r hav e an impressio n o f unusua l freshness , unexpectedness , vividness, concision, or force (o r the contrarie s of these o r other qualities) in the writer' s expression . The tota l effec t o f an y poeti c wor k is of cours e a composit e or synthesi s of al l suc h particula r effects , but they can in fact be differentiated, withou t too great difficulty , by any attentive reader and be seen to depend, for their existence , on fundamentally distinct artistic principles . The secon d of Aristotle's question s abou t tragedy , wit h whic h he deal s i n clos e conjunctio n wit h th e first , concern s the cause s of succes s or failure in the poet's handling of the tragi c parts. Of these the plot, as we have seen, is most important: i t i s the first principle o r architectoni c part , t o th e beaut y an d emotiona l efficacy o f whic h th e othe r part s contribute—th e characte r an d the thought mos t directly, th e diction , qua diction, less immediately, th e musi c an d th e spectacl e incidentall y a s supportin g accessories. The best tragedy, indeed, is one in which the subordinate part s no t onl y serve , i n thei r variou s ways , th e plo t bu t possess, t o th e greates t exten t compatibl e wit h th e integrit y o f the whole , the independent excellences of which each is capable . The plot , however , i s primary : ther e ca n b e n o goo d traged y without a goo d plo t sinc e i t i s upo n th e plo t tha t th e tragi c "power" mos t completel y depends ; bu t ther e ca n b e effectiv e tragedies wit h relativel y poo r characte r (i n Aristotle' s sens e of character a s a part) , relativel y undistinguishe d thought , an d relatively mediocre diction, and a tragic plot does not cease to be tragic whe n the pla y is read rathe r tha n witnesse d o n a stage. 77 It is therefore on the excellences possible in plot that Aristotle's main emphasis falls. I n hi s genera l discussio n of plot—tha t is , of plot not determined specificall y t o tragic ends—th e starting-point is th e firs t claus e o f hi s definition : tha t traged y i s a n imitatio n of a n actio n which , beside s bein g serious , i s a complet e whol e having magnitude . The warran t o f this las t phras e i s ultimately in th e histor y o f poetry : i t i s precisel y t o suc h self-containe d constructions that the effort s o f imitative poets have tended, an d those tragedies, or other poems, have been thought most beautiful 70

of whic h thes e attribute s o f wholenes s an d a righ t magnitud e can b e predicated . Th e problem , therefore , i s t o discove r th e general conditions , in th e makin g o f tragi c plots , o f thei r ex istence; and this Aristotle does in his statements, in Chapters 7-9 , about th e natur e of order in plots (a s consistin g in a continuous sequence fro m beginnin g throug h middl e t o end) , abou t th e proper magnitud e of plot s (a s consistin g i n suc h a lengt h a s permits o f a complete d chang e o f fortune by mean s of incident s following on e anothe r probabl y o r necessarily) , abou t th e material basi s o f unity in plot s (a s mor e completel y given by a single actio n tha n b y a singl e hero) , an d abou t th e kind s of connections tha t mus t be effecte d betwee n th e successiv e part s of plot s i f poeti c wholeness is t o b e achieve d (a s dependen t o n showing no t wha t merel y happene d o r i s possibl e bu t wha t i s probable o r necessar y in term s o f th e universal s implie d i n th e character an d th e situation) . Thi s i s followed , i n Chapter s 1 0 and 11 , by a deductio n o f th e majo r specie s o f plot s fro m th e assumption that tragedy imitates actions : "Plots are either simpl e or complex , since the action s they represent ar e naturall y o f this twofold character. " An d th e genera l superiorit y o f comple x t o simple plots , i t i s implie d thoug h no t explicitl y argued , lie s i n two things : i n thei r capacit y t o affor d mor e of the "unexpected " and "wonderful, " which , whe n i t come s about i n wha t w e per ceive t o b e a probabl e sequenc e o f events , wil l necessaril y en hance th e tragic , o r an y other , pleasure ; an d i n th e fac t that , through th e devic e o f "recognition," the y permit wide r extremes of emotion and thought . These, however, are only necessary and not sufficient condition s of a n excellen t tragi c plot , an d thi s genera l discussio n mus t therefore b e complete d b y inferences from th e peculia r dynamis of th e imitation s whic h Aristotle , relyin g agai n o n histor y an d general opinion , ha s selecte d a s mos t distinctivel y an d power fully "serious"—th e catharsi s throug h pit y an d fea r o f suc h emotions. The pleasurabl e catharsis—th e settlin g o f the sou l into its norma l stat e o f res t afte r painfu l disturbance—wil l com e about if the action is properly complete, with its incidents follow ing one another, not by chance or by the arbitrar y manipulation of th e poet, 78 but i n a n inherentl y probabl e o r necessar y order.

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Hence, assumin g suc h a constructio n i n well-mad e tragedies , Aristotle concentrate s o n th e questio n o f what kin d o f plot wil l most successfull y arous e th e emotion s o f pit y an d fear , thes e being respectively what we feel when we contemplate undeserved misfortunes an d wha t we feel whe n such a misfortune threatens one who is like ourselves in being neither wholl y just and knowing nor wholl y villainous. 79 Th e tragi c hero , clearly , mus t b e a man o f this intermediat e kind , but preferabl y on e bette r rathe r than worse , sinc e th e event s will the n b e mor e striking; an d h e must be moved in the plot from a state of good fortune t o one of bad, an d the mor e miserable the final state th e mor e completely "serious" th e actio n wil l be . Th e seriousnes s will als o b e pro portionate t o the human evil the actio n brings into play, and th e extreme of human evil, Aristotle assumes, lies i n th e committin g of unjus t acts, an d especiall y o f unjust act s done against persons who ough t t o b e protecte d an d loved . No w thes e condition s could b e satisfie d by a plot i n which a n innocen t protagonist of the kind described is brought to undeserved ruin by the villainous acts of a supposed friend, as in many eighteenth-century tragedies . And thi s woul d undoubtedly be "tragic " fo r Aristotle, but muc h less tragi c tha n a plo t i n whic h th e unjus t ac t i s don e b y th e protagonist himself on one of his friends, bu t don e in such a way that he , too , suffer s th e consequence s i n remors e an d pai n o f mind and the audience , whil e lamenting the deed , ca n neverthe less hold hi m no t entirel y culpable ; fo r i t i s thi s kin d o f unjus t act—springing no t fro m deliberat e intentio n bu t fro m hamartia or actio n don e in ignoranc e o f the circumstance s rathe r tha n of the moral principle a t stake 80—that we most fear i n ourselves and pity mos t fully i n other s whe n i t bring s upon the m misfortunes partly bu t no t wholly deserved. Somethin g like this, a t an y rate, seems t o hav e been Aristotle' s reasonin g in Chapter s 1 3 and 14 , when h e conclude s tha t th e mos t excellen t typ e o f tragi c plo t is on e o f which th e materia l caus e is a nobl e bu t intermediat e kind o f man; the forma l cause , the passag e of suc h a man , an d of those associated with him, from goo d fortune to an appropriat e extreme o f bad fortun e (wit h n o "happy " reversal a t th e end) ; and th e efficien t cause , an unjus t act , o r sequence of unjust acts , committed by th e her o o n persons clos e to him , in consequenc e 72

not o f unjus t inten t bu t o f hamartia o f som e kind . An d i t ma y be adde d that , whethe r o r no t thi s i s th e mos t tragi c plot-for m absolutely (i t is not precisely the form, for example, of Macbeth), it clearl y offer s greate r possibilitie s t o the poe t tha n mos t of th e other "tragic" plot-forms which Aristotl e mentions or which hav e been attempte d i n late r times . The proble m o f "character " i n tragedy—whe n characte r i s viewed no t a s one of the determinant s of plot (a s in Chapte r 13 ) but a s a form t o be achieved i n the speeche s ou t of the material s of dictio n an d thought—i s a proble m primaril y o f wha t trait s of moral purpos e o r personalit y th e poe t ough t t o selec t an d em body i n his words if the ethica l elemen t i n his poem is to d o it s work most adequately. An d he ca n g o wrong in fou r ways : first, by making the dramatis personae, or any on e of them, sa y or d o things on particular occasion s or habitually tha t ar e insufficientl y serious o r morall y elevate d o r otherwis e detrimenta l t o hi s plo t and it s tragic effect ; second , by no t keepin g vividl y i n min d th e basic sor t o f huma n bein g a give n perso n i s intende d t o b e s o that th e particula r trait s manifeste d i n hi s speeche s fai l t o fus e together int o th e impressio n o f a singl e unifie d character ; third , by neglectin g t o choos e sign s o f th e characteristic s intende d which wil l conve y th e effec t tha t th e perso n speakin g o r actin g is a possible huma n being o f a certai n kin d (i.e. , b y no t making the imitated perso n "com e alive"); and fourth, by failing to make such changes in character a s the actio n ma y require see m neces sary or probable. Thes e are the negative bases of the fou r criteri a of character-trait s i n traged y whic h Aristotl e set s fort h i n Chapter 15 : that the y be "good" or "useful" (chresta), "appropri ate" (harmottonta), "like " (homoiori), an d "consistent " (homalori); and i t is clear that , wit h som e changes i n the definition s o f each , the lis t woul d serv e for an y othe r poeti c specie s o f which plo t i s the controlling form . The materia l basi s o f "thought " i n dram a i s th e capacit y o f language, a s the poet' s medium, to be forme d into argument s o r into statement s o f fac t o r o f genera l truth , t o expres s an d evok e emotions, an d t o discriminat e th e relativ e valu e o f things . I t appears i n th e speeches , an d is , say s Aristotle , th e powe r o f saying th e "possible " (enonta) an d th e "appropriate " (harmot73

tonta); i t falls , furthermore , unde r tw o distinc t arts , tha t o f politics an d tha t o f rhetoric , th e olde r dramatist s makin g thei r persons spea k politikos, th e moder n dramatist s retorikos. Thi s statement, i n Chapte r 6 , is no t eas y t o interpret , bu t i t ca n b e read, I think , as an indication o f two levels o f potential achieve ment in the poet's handling of thought. To achieve the "possible " is clearl y a minimu m requirement : th e person s i n a plo t ca n properly entertai n onl y suc h thought s a s ar e possibl e i n th e sense of being permitted by their general characters and relevan t to the general situation; they must at least speak pertinently an d in keeping with the seriousnes s of the occasion—an d thi s is what the earlie r dramatist s were mainl y content t o mak e them do , so that their speeche s have the quality of political deliberation s bu t little more . T o achiev e th e "appropriate " i s t o g o beyond this ; it i s to use the resource s of rhetoric in orde r t o achiev e nuance s of characte r an d emotio n an d t o adap t th e speeche s i n a par ticularized wa y t o wha t i s going on, a s wel l a s t o th e universa l issues involve d i n th e action . An d the implication , I tak e it , i s that th e bes t though t is that whic h achieve s both th e "possible " and th e "appropriate" at the same time.81 There i s perhaps nothing in the Poetics that seem s more alie n to th e contemporar y critica l min d tha n th e fashio n i n whic h Aristotle dispose s o f th e proble m o f diction : i n thre e chapter s (20-22) th e firs t tw o o f whic h resolv e i t int o it s elements , in cluding metaphors, and the third of which deals with the criterio n of goo d diction—namely, that it b e a t onc e clear an d no t mean — and wit h th e way s in whic h th e dictio n o f tragedy differ s fro m that o f epi c an d dithyramb . T o critic s wh o ar e dispose d t o identify poetr y wit h a certai n manne r o f usin g word s an d i n whose system s the questio n o f dictio n i s consequentl y prio r to , even if it does not altogethe r absorb, questions of plot, character , and thought , i t ha s naturall y seeme d strang e no t onl y tha t Aristotle should relegate th e words of tragedy to the last place in his list o f its parts but shoul d discuss them with s o little eviden t sense o f thei r hig h importance ; there ha s eve n bee n tal k o f a n "Aristotelian separation of plot and character fro m diction." 82 It is necessary, however , t o bea r i n min d tw o things : first , tha t th e distinctive proble m o f poetics fo r Aristotle , a s w e hav e seen , i s 74

not the appreciatio n bu t th e construction of poetry; and , second , that i f th e questio n o f dictio n seem s unimportant fo r him , thi s is not becaus e it i s not, in on e sense, all-important, bu t becaus e much o f it ha s alread y been deal t with . Th e poeti c qualit y o f a tragedy i s it s qualit y a s a complete d imitatio n i n words ; i t i s only a s it s objec t o f imitation i s constructe d successivel y i n th e speeches tha t i t has any existence o r power; it i s immediately t o the words , moreover , tha t spectator s o r reader s respond , an d from these , a s reinforced on th e stag e b y th e actors ' voice s an d movements, tha t the y infe r th e characte r an d emotiona l signifi cance o f wha t i s goin g on . Languag e i s therefor e o f suprem e importance, fo r if this fail s i n a poem, everything fails ; bu t i t i s necessarily las t i n th e orde r o f qualitativ e part s fo r th e simpl e reason that, give n an adequate master y of language by th e poet , the questio n o f wha t th e actua l word s o f a particula r traged y ought t o be i s one that ca n never b e answere d finally until th e poet ha s foun d answer s for al l th e comple x questions involve d in the detaile d constructio n of its object. And the principle s tha t serve hi m i n answerin g these latte r question s ar e also , i n larg e measure, the principles tha t govern, in a good tragedy, th e choic e and arrangement of words. For the words, sentences, and rhythms spoken b y th e character s o f a traged y ar e a s much parts o f th e imitated actio n as any of their non-verba l acts (suc h as stabbin g Polonius o r jumpin g into Ophelia' s grave) ; an d thei r selectio n and orderin g i n th e speeche s demand s th e sam e attentio n t o considerations o f necessit y an d probabilit y an d o f appropriate ness to the desire d emotiona l effects a s does the inventio n o f th e "things" themselves. The righ t solutio n o f the proble m o f dictio n in a traged y i s consequentl y inseparable , i n it s mos t crucia l aspects, fro m th e righ t solutio n o f the problem s se t for th e poe t by his desire t o give to his intended matte r o f character, thought , and actio n a certai n determinat e structur e an d power ; an d th e major par t o f th e proble m o f dictio n ca n accordingl y b e sub sumed under the discussio n of these other problems, leaving over for specia l treatment merel y the materia l element s tha t mus t b e united t o for m th e metr e an d languag e o f the speeche s an d th e general aim s that ough t t o guide the poe t i f his choice o f words and rhythms is to facilitate comprehension of his action and at th e

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same time be pleasurabl e i n itself an d appropriat e t o th e tragi c form. The analysi s o f th e interna l part s o f tragedy—musi c an d spectacle bein g externa l i n th e sens e o f dependin g largel y o n other art s tha n th e poetic—thu s run s fro m plot , a s the principa l and architectonic part , through character an d thought, to diction, in descendin g orde r o f causa l determination ; an d fo r eac h o f these Aristotle inquires what in general is its best state. We may add on e further point , though this will take us beyond anything explicitly develope d i n th e Poetics. I t woul d b e false , i n th e language o f Aristotle' s criticism , t o sa y tha t a traged y o r an y other poe m i s essentiall y a "verba l structure " o r tha t i t exist s primarily in a "verbal universe." We can, however, say that it has a verbal structure. For what a poet does, in writing a poem, is to set down sound after sound, word after word, sentence after sentence , until he ha s compose d a continuou s significant speech , o r logos, which i n th e en d i s hi s poem , and whic h ha s a kin d o f unity , Aristotle remarks , by virtu e not o f signifyin g on e thing , a s i n a definition, bu t o f bein g itsel f on e a s a particula r conjunctio n of many speeches. 83 A good poem can thus be sai d to hav e wholeness both a s a mythos and a s a logos; and althoug h th e primar y problem o f poetics i s th e excellen t constructio n o f th e mythos— and it is with this that Aristotle mainly deals—the composition of the logos, as a coheren t verbal whole , also presents problem s t o the poe t tha t g o beyon d th e findin g o f th e righ t word s an d rhythms t o bod y fort h hi s plot . Thes e ar e partl y problem s of preserving throughou t th e poe m a certai n mor e o r les s flexible norm o f vocabulary an d metre ; bu t th e mos t important o f them are consequence s of th e genera l proble m o f poeti c manne r (a s distinguished from th e particular problem of dramatic spectacle), that is to say, of the mos t effective fittin g o f the logos as a whole to th e mythos. The y wil l obviousl y require differen t solutions , depending o n differen t kind s of skill , according as th e poe m is, let u s say , a dram a intende d fo r actin g o n a publi c stage , a dramatic poem meant to be recite d o r read, or an epic o r novel, even though the essential plot-form an d effect ma y be the same in all these cases. The ways in which they can be solved in particular works, moreover , will inevitabl y be affecte d b y th e rulin g con 76

ventions o f thei r forms : eve n wit h th e sam e plot-form , again , the structur e o f the poet' s discours e wil l no t b e th e sam e in a tragedy havin g th e quantitativ e part s o f Gree k traged y a s i t would b e i n a traged y designe d fo r th e Englis h stag e o f th e early seventeent h century . And finally, and irrespectiv e o f thes e differences, th e verba l structur e o f a traged y o r an y imitativ e poem wil l b e determine d necessaril y b y a whol e comple x of particular decisions , inheren t i n th e natur e o f the poet' s art , a s to ho w muc h of his objec t he wil l represen t explicitl y an d ho w much he wil l leav e t o inference ; a s to wha t part s o f the repre sented actio n h e wil l exhibi t dramaticall y an d wha t part s b y narrative report ; a s t o wha t orde r h e wil l follo w i n disclosin g the element s o f hi s story , an d wit h wha t continuitie s an d dis continuities, juxtaposition s and contrast s i n th e arrangemen t of its scenes; and so on through other problems of a similar character the righ t solutio n of which, relatively t o the intende d "power " of the plot , i s a n essentia l i f no t sufficien t conditio n o f artisti c success. V

Such, i n general , I believe , ar e th e philosophi c base s o f th e "line o f inquiry " which constitute d poeti c scienc e fo r Aristotle , and suc h th e consequence s fo r th e proble m o f poetic structur e of th e ver y specia l critica l languag e i n whic h it s question s an d hypotheses ar e framed. I shall return in the final lecture to those features o f Aristotle' s languag e (i n th e constructio n her e give n to it ) whic h I believ e ar e permanentl y usefu l fo r the practica l criticism o f poetic works , but I woul d sugges t in th e meantime that, whe n th e Poetics i s rea d thus—a s a n attemp t t o dea l no t with poetr y a s a whol e bu t wit h certai n form s o f imitativ e poetry i n thei r aspec t onl y a s imitations—som e o f th e commo n objections to the treatise lose most of their force. It is true enough that Aristotl e "nowher e refer s t o th e grea t problem s tha t gav e vitality t o Gree k tragedy , problem s relatin g t o ma n an d hi s cosmic relations , t o th e working s of Fate , huma n destin y an d the like"; 84 i t i s tru e tha t h e doe s no t dwel l explicitl y o n "th e part played by the imagination i n all poetic activity"; 85 it is true 77

that he fail s t o deal wit h th e Gree k tragedian s a s "the Prophet s of thei r age"; 86 i t i s tru e tha t h e leave s ou t o f his accoun t th e survival o f ritualisti c form s i n th e classi c drama . Bu t i t surel y does no t follo w fro m this , i f what I have been sayin g is correct , that h e wa s "unaware, " i n hi s literal-minde d concentratio n o n poetic forms an d devices , o f the existenc e o f such questions. H e may hav e bee n awar e or not, but i n eithe r cas e th e specia l tas k he wa s undertaking would no t hav e admitte d them , fo r hi m o r anyone else , a s relevan t questions ; the y belon g rather , a s h e would say, to other inquiries tha n those of the productive scienc e of poetics. I mus t add a warning , however , whic h ma y well appea r un necessary, tha t th e interpretatio n o f th e Poetics I hav e bee n attempting to develop in this lecture differs widely , and in several fundamental respects , fro m mos t o f th e version s o f Aristotle' s purposes and procedures i n criticism that have been current fro m the Renaissance to our day, the version of Lessing being perhaps , at leas t o n som e important points , th e chie f exception . I t i s fa r from bein g th e Poetics of Butcher; i t ha s littl e in commo n wit h the Poetics whic h Mr . Ranso m ha s subtl y translate d int o th e terms o f hi s ow n theory; 87 i t i s no t th e Poetics t o whic h Mr . Francis Fergusson appeals through the medium of the Cambridge school o f classica l anthropologist s an d Mr . Kennet h Burke; 88 i t is no t th e Poetics tha t Mr . Blackmu r woul d "marry " wit h Coleridge.89 I would say for my version that it respects th e orde r of Aristotle' s text , tha t i t take s accoun t o f th e mos t importan t passages i n hi s othe r work s which migh t b e expecte d t o thro w light on the meaning s of the genera l term s he use s in discussing poetry an d o n th e natur e an d implication s o f th e metho d h e i s evidently employing , an d tha t i t attempt s t o conside r wha t possible sense s his statements could have when they are applie d to th e actua l problem s o f poet s engage d i n th e constructio n of poems. For all that, and with so much weight of authority against me, I shoul d b e incline d t o doub t th e accurac y of what I hav e been sayin g were i t no t tha t th e principa l divergence s fro m m y account i n othe r interpretation s ca n b e fairl y wel l explaine d when w e conside r th e natur e o f th e genera l assumption s con cerning poetry and criticis m by which the majorit y o f these hav e 78

been governed . Thi s last , however , i s a complicate d stor y i n itself, whic h I shal l touc h upo n briefl y a t th e beginnin g o f th e next lecture, as a prologue to what I wish to say about some of the very differen t conception s o f th e languag e o f criticis m an d th e structure o f poetr y tha t hav e dominate d critica l writin g i n th e English-speaking countrie s during the presen t century .

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The languages of contemporary criticism T H E I N F L U E N C E O f t h e Poetics o n later criticis m ha s take n two principa l forms , bot h o f the m stemmin g fro m wha t are , I think, relativel y externa l aspect s o f Aristotle' s contribution . I t has bee n a n influence , i n th e firs t place , o f an d upo n doctrine , mediated b y th e varyin g interpretation s whic h commentator s from th e sixteent h centur y onwar d hav e pu t o n Aristotle' s pro nouncements concerning poetry, tragedy, and epic, and especiall y on hi s statement s abou t suc h topic s a s unit y o f action , proba bility, catharsis, th e tragi c hero , the plac e o f the "marvellous " in tragedy an d epic , an d th e relatio n o f poetr y t o histor y an d philosophy: wheneve r in an y period th e authorit y o f the Poetics has been either invoked or repudiated, i t has been of its supposed teachings o n thes e an d simila r point s tha t mos t peopl e hav e tended t o think . An d alon g wit h this , i n th e secon d place , ha s gone a n eve n mor e pervasiv e influenc e o f Aristotle' s specia l vocabulary o n th e word s whic h critic s o f al l persuasion s hav e used in speaking of the part s an d device s of poetry in most if no t all of its kinds. In this sense we can say that his effect o n criticism will hav e cease d onl y whe n critic s n o longe r talk , i n howeve r un-Aristotelian a way, of medium, manner, representation, action, plot, character , thought , diction , probability , expectation , sur prise, peripety , recognition , o r th e tragi c flaw. A critica l language , however , i s somethin g more fundamenta l than the particular doctrina l conclusions it is used to express and the particula r terminolog y in whic h it s analysi s is stated . Thes e 80

may easil y persis t whe n th e languag e itself , a s a se t o f basi c concepts derive d an d define d i n accordanc e wit h a distinctiv e method, ha s disappeared ; an d th e histor y o f "Aristotelian " in terpretation an d critica l practic e ha s been ver y largely, I think , a histor y o f th e surviva l o f th e conten t an d vocabular y o f th e Poetics in abstraction from th e characteristic framewor k o f defini tions an d principle s o f inquiry whic h constitute d poeti c scienc e as Aristotle understood it. What abov e al l hav e no t survive d ar e precisel y th e origina l assumptions on which, as I tried to indicate in the last lecture, his entire procedur e i s founded: first, that th e object s of poetics ar e "concrete wholes " o f variou s kinds , havin g i n commo n th e character of being imitations in words of human actions, passions, and characters , th e essentia l difference s amon g whic h ar e a function of their respective emotional "powers"; secondly, that the end o f poetics is the perfectin g o f such wholes in thei r differen t species i n s o far a s this depend s o n th e poet' s art ; an d thirdly , that th e metho d o f poetics consist s i n reasonin g bac k fro m th e inductively know n natur e o f an y suc h whol e t o th e necessar y and sufficien t interna l conditions, in the structure to be fashioned by th e poet , o f a maximu m achievemen t o f th e specifi c for m o f beauty o f whic h i t i s capable . Th e disappearanc e fro m late r criticism o f thes e firs t principle s ha s been , i t seem s to me , th e crucial change ; an d it s consequence s ca n b e trace d i n mos t of the departure s fro m th e Poetics whic h hav e manifeste d them selves i n th e histor y o f the "Aristotelian " tradition . The ter m "imitation " ha s persisted , bu t never , a s far a s I a m aware, has it been used in Aristotle's precise sens e to signif y th e internal relationshi p o f for m an d matte r characteristi c o f th e class of objects to which poems, or rather som e of them, belong. Its meanings have varied widely in differen t critics , bu t whethe r poetry has been though t to be imitativ e in the specia l sens e that it bodies fort h imaginativel y ideas or moral types (a s in Sidney) or in the more general sense that i t is discourse about nature (a s in Johnson), the relationship the term denotes has been invariably an external relationship between poems and the ideal or empirica l realities they cal l t o mind ; an d on e important resul t o f this ha s been th e los s o r blurrin g o f the distinctio n betwee n poem s that

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are structurall y "imitations " an d poem s tha t emplo y imitativ e devices of fictions, figures, and metre s as means to didacti c ends . And i t ha s bee n muc h th e same , too, wit h Aristotle' s othe r ke y terms an d principles . Poem s have continued to b e though t o f as wholes possesse d o f power s t o affec t huma n mind s i n variou s ways; bu t the y hav e bee n wholes , fo r thes e "Aristotelians, " i n some othe r sens e than tha t implie d b y Aristotle' s conceptio n o f synolon, an d thei r power s hav e normall y been defined , no t a s the "prope r pleasures " tha t g o wit h specifi c form s o f poetr y b y virtue o f their construction , but wit h th e mor e general capacit y of poetr y t o serve , thoug h i n differen t way s in differen t genres , the need s o f reader s o r spectator s fo r pleasur e an d instruction . It ha s been so, for example, with the catharti c power o f tragedy : however variousl y this ha s been interpreted—whethe r i n morally therapeutic term s or in terms that assimilat e tragedy to primitiv e purification rites—th e referenc e ha s consistentl y bee n t o a prac tical rathe r tha n strictl y poeti c end . Th e good , consequently , a t which poetic s aim s ha s bee n treate d a s a goo d tha t canno t b e wholly identified with th e intrinsi c beauty o f the poeti c produc t but mus t b e looke d fo r i n somethin g beyon d this , i n th e com munication o f trut h o r mora l edificatio n o r i n th e provisio n of superior delight s fo r commo n o r superior mind s or in som e conjunction o f these ends . The shar p line o f distinction, i n Aristotle , between poetr y an d th e art s o f rhetori c an d teachin g ha s thu s been broke n down, and i t i s not strang e tha t th e "Aristotelians " of th e Renaissanc e an d th e Neoclassica l perio d wer e abl e t o mingle easil y th e precept s o f th e Ars poetica with thos e o f th e Poetics o r t o fin d statement s o f th e end s an d virtue s o f poetr y quite as readily in Cicero and Quintilian as in Aristotle. With this shift o f orientation , moreover , th e analysi s o f th e interna l con stitution o f tragedies , comedies , and epic s coul d hardl y remai n the same : no t onl y ha s plo t bee n separate d fro m th e dynamis that makes of it a first principle i n these poeti c specie s an d con fused wit h th e material s o f myt h o r stor y ou t o f whic h i t i s formed, bu t fe w trace s hav e remaine d o f th e causa l hierarch y that relates plot and the other parts in the analysis of the Poetics: instead, thoug h th e name s hav e survived , th e part s themselve s have usuall y bee n discusse d a s a serie s o f discret e elements — 82

separately causativ e o f pleasur e o r instruction—whic h fo r th e poet ar e so many "beauties" to aim at an d fo r the criti c so many topics to use in organizing his remarks.90 And finally, and perhaps most important , th e metho d o f "Aristotelian" poetic s ha s cease d to be that of an inductive scienc e based o n hypothetical necessit y and ha s become what for Aristotle would be a kind of dialectic— a discours e abou t poetr y i n genera l an d it s variou s specie s th e first principles o f whic h ar e sought , no t wher e Aristotl e sough t his, i n the bein g o f the thing s include d i n hi s scienc e b y virtu e of hi s hypothesis , bu t rathe r i n th e generall y accepte d opinion s of me n o f taste an d learnin g concernin g what th e pleasur e an d instruction o f poetry ought to be.91 Now w e may suspect that al l this woul d no t hav e happened — or happened wit h th e sam e consistency throughout the traditio n —but for th e hidde n presence , i n th e thinkin g o f these critics , of presuppositions abou t poetr y an d criticis m tha t impelle d them , more o r les s unconsciously , and despit e th e piou s regar d man y of the m fel t fo r Aristotle' s authority , t o distor t hi s doctrine s b y restating the m in terms of basic critical concepts of quite a differ ent sor t fro m his . The influenc e o f a numbe r o f non-Aristotelia n languages ca n be detecte d i n the histor y of Aristotelian interpretation, but most of these can be viewed, I think, as variants of one fundamental mod e o f approac h t o poetry , th e importanc e o f which not merel y for the readin g of the Poetics but fo r criticism in general , includin g mos t o f the criticis m o f ou r time , i t seem s to m e har d t o exaggerate . II

So wel l accepted , i n fact , ha s thi s othe r languag e become so much a part of our habitual way s of thinking about literature— that i t require s som e effor t t o isolat e i t i n ou r mind s a s a par ticular an d b y n o means inevitable framewor k fo r th e discussion of poeti c structure . It s peculia r characte r wil l perhap s becom e evident, however , i f w e loo k a t a fe w contemporar y definitions of poetr y constructe d in its terms. I begi n with on e by Mr . Yvor Winters. "I f rationa l communicatio n abou t poetr y i s t o tak e place," he says , "it is necessary first to determin e wha t we mean 83

by a poem"; and he goes on to answer this question in the following way: A poe m i s firs t o f all a statemen t i n words . But i t differ s fro m al l suc h statement s o f a purel y philosophica l or theoretical nature, in tha t it ha s b y intention a controlle d content of feeling. I n thi s respect, it doe s not diffe r fro m man y work s writte n in prose, however. A poem differ s fro m a wor k writte n i n pros e b y virtu e o f it s bein g composed i n verse . Th e rhyth m o f vers e permit s th e expressio n o f more powerfu l feelin g tha n is possible in pros e when suc h feelin g i s needed, an d i t permit s a t al l time s th e expressio n o f fine r shade s of feeling. A poem , then , i s a statemen t i n word s i n whic h specia l pains ar e taken wit h th e expressio n o f feeling . Thi s descriptio n i s merel y in tended t o distinguis h the poe m fro m othe r kinds o f writing; it i s no t offered a s a complete description.92 The important thin g her e i s not Winters' definition itself bu t th e fact tha t i t i s presented withou t an y preliminar y specification of what "poems" o r varieties o f "poems" he ha s in mind and tha t i t is a definitio n arrive d a t b y first constituting a poem a s "a state ment in words" comparable to "other kind s of writing" an d the n distinguishing i t fro m othe r kind s of "statement " i n respec t firs t to its content and then to its linguistic form. These ar e also the basi c terms in which poetr y i s defined b y a good man y other critic s o f ou r day , however greatl y the y ma y differ i n thei r selection s o f definin g traits. "Poetry," we ar e tol d in Cleant h Brooks ' an d Rober t Pen n Warren' s Understanding Poetry, "i s a for m o f speech , o r discourse , writte n o r spoken" ; 'like al l discourse , [it ] is a communication—th e sayin g o f something by one person t o another person"; bu t i t differ s fro m scien tific discours e i n bein g a communicatio n not o f objectiv e fact s but o f "attitudes , feelings , an d interpretations " an d fro m suc h practical discours e a s deal s wit h thes e thing s i n aimin g a t a superior "clarit y an d precisio n o f statement." 93 Fo r Professo r Pottle, similarly, poetry is 'language" or a 'land of speech." It is, he says , "languag e tha t expresse s the qualitie s o f experience , a s distinguished fro m languag e tha t indicate s it s uses." I n thi s stric t and theoretica l sense , poetr y i s coextensiv e with language , bu t in th e ordinar y o r popula r sens e o f th e term , poetr y occur s 84

"when th e concentratio n o f the expressiv e element o f speech be comes s o grea t tha t w e distinctl y fee l i t t o predominat e ove r that othe r elemen t which w e hav e called th e practica l o r scientific/'94 Th e genera l critica l positio n o f Mr . Ranso m i s rathe r different fro m tha t of either Professo r Pottl e o r of Messrs. Brooks and Warren , and i s explicitly se t i n oppositio n to th e positio n of Mr. Winters, but he approaches the task of formulating the nature of poetr y i n essentiall y th e sam e way . " A poem, " h e writes , "differentiates itsel f fo r us , ver y quickl y an d convincingly , fro m a pros e discourse"—th e difficulty , however , is t o kno w precisely what the differentia is . It is not "moralism," he says, not "emotionalism, sensibility , o r 'expression,' " an d no t "structur e proper, " since this i s "the pros e of the poem , being a logical discours e of almost an y kind, an d dealin g wit h almos t an y conten t suite d t o a logica l discourse" ; i t i s rathe r th e "orde r o f content " whic h distinguishes th e "irrelevan t loca l texture " o f the poe m fro m it s "logical structure" ; an d h e conclude s b y suggestin g tha t th e differentia o f poetry a s discours e is "a n ontologica l one." Poetry "treats a n orde r o f existence , a grad e o f objectivity , which can not b e treate d i n scientifi c discourse." 95 An d muc h th e sam e general assumptio n provide s th e poin t o f departur e fo r Ren e Wellek an d Austi n Warren in thei r recen t Theory of Literature, in whic h the y characteriz e th e literar y wor k of ar t a s " a whol e system o f signs, or structur e o f signs, serving a specifi c aestheti c purpose," an d fin d tha t thi s structur e i s mad e u p o f "severa l strata, each implying its own subordinate group," from th e basi c "sound-stratum," throug h the individual an d composite meanings of th e words, to the object s represented i n the poem and, finally, to it s tota l "philosophica l meaning." 96 How differen t al l thi s i s fro m Aristotl e ca n readil y b e seen . For him, as we have observed, the starting-poin t o f poetics i s th e existence o f certai n distinctiv e classe s o f huma n productions , using language as their medium , to which the name "poetry" has become peculiarly attached; an d the first question is what is their essential natur e whe n w e vie w them , no t i n al l thei r possibl e aspects an d relations , bu t i n thei r aspec t a s concret e artisti c wholes. The answe r is that, whe n thu s considered , they happe n all t o b e "imitations, " an d henc e ca n b e differentiate d an d de 85

fined, fo r th e purpose s o f poeti c science , b y considerin g wha t they imitate , i n wha t the y imitate , ho w the y imitate , an d wit h what specia l powers . A s imitations the y belon g t o a ver y larg e class o f objects , som e o f which , lik e houses , diffe r fro m poem s in havin g a utilit y beyon d thei r forms , an d other s o f which , such as paintings an d dances , differ fro m poem s in the characte r of th e imitativ e mean s the y employ ; thes e latte r ar e therefor e excluded fro m th e spher e o f poetics excep t a s bases fo r explana tory analogie s (a s i n Chapter s 1 , 2, 6 , an d 15) . A s imitations , moreover, poem s are sharpl y separated , a t th e beginnin g o f th e inquiry, fro m th e othe r art s o r facultie s whic h us e languag e a s their instrument , suc h a s scientifi c an d philosophica l writing , history, rhetoric, on the simpl e groun d that these do not giv e us imitations i n an y stric t sens e o f th e word ; thu s i t i s tha t whe n history an d philosoph y ar e referre d t o i n th e Poetics (a s i n Chapters 9 and 23), it is merely for the sak e of marking off more clearly th e specia l natur e o f poetry . Rhetori c i s i n a differen t case, since th e developmen t o f "thought" in poetr y involve s th e use o f device s whic h ar e obviousl y commo n t o rhetori c an d poetry; bu t imitativ e poetry , fo r all that, remain s an ar t distinc t from tha t o f orator y i n it s ends , forms , an d principle s o f con struction; an d i t i s also , a s we hav e noted , a n ar t distinc t fro m that which produces th e various kinds of "poems" which we have come to call didactic. Fo r Aristotle, in short, the worl d of poetics is a world of concrete objects, natural and artificial , withi n which the ter m "poetry " delimit s sharpl y an d literally , fo r th e poeti c inquiry, thos e artificia l wholes, o f whateve r species , tha t us e a medium o f words t o body forth interesting an d movin g pattern s of huma n experience, fo r th e sak e of th e specifi c beauty o f th e imitation; an d th e definition s wit h whic h hi s scientifi c argumen t proper begin s ar e definitions , no t o f poetry in general, but o f th e particular specie s o f poetry , suc h a s tragedy , o f whic h h e pro poses t o discuss th e better and wors e mode s of construction . For the modern critics fro m who m I have quoted, o n the other hand, th e worl d o f poetic criticis m i s a worl d mad e u p of , an d bounded by, whatever characteristic s can be attributed t o human discourse o f an y kin d in virtu e of any o f the cause s of discourse , whether natura l o r artificial; the ter m "poetry" here designating , 86

differently i n differen t critics , som e specia l selectio n an d com bination o f th e characteristic s whic h suc h a vie w o f discours e discloses. They have set out to define poetr y in general, and the y have take n a s thei r genu s what , i n Aristotle , i s th e differenti a separating poetr y fro m othe r non-linguisti c mode s o f artisti c imitation, wit h th e resul t that comparison s of poetry with othe r kinds o f linguisti c discourse , which fo r Aristotl e are device s o f explanation posterio r t o hi s delimitatio n o f imitative poetry , be come for them essential means of delimiting the natur e of poetry. They ar e compelled , therefore , t o ge t a t thei r necessar y differ entiae by a process of dichotomous division within som e general body o f trait s attributabl e t o discours e a s a whole . The y ten d accordingly t o fix upon som e suc h evident fac t a s that discourse (whether poetical , rhetorical , philosophical , scientific , historical , and s o on ) i s statement , o r communication , o r expression , o r embodiment o f knowledge , o r somethin g els e equall y general , and the n t o look for significan t extreme s of difference withi n thi s basic idea . Thu s discours e ma y be i n pros e o r i n verse ; i t ma y state concept s o r feelings ; i t ma y communicat e objective fact s or "attitudes , feelings , an d interpretations" ; i t ma y expres s th e qualities of experience o r indicate its uses; it may give us knowledge o f logica l relation s amon g thing s merel y o r brin g thing s before u s i n thei r whol e concret e substance ; it ma y o r ma y no t aim a t a superio r "clarit y an d precision " o f utterance . I n th e table o f contraries thu s established , on e colum n will b e heade d "poetry" an d th e othe r colum n "not-poetry " o r somethin g els e more specifi c suc h as "science" o r "logical discourse, " and i n thi s way a definitio n o f poetr y wit h a differentia signifyin g wha t i s special t o it s languag e o r conten t o r bot h wil l b e se t u p a s a means of selecting the referent s of the critic' s propositions. Given the starting-poin t ther e can be n o other wa y o f proceeding, bu t the result s stand in sharp contras t to those of Aristotle in severa l respects. Th e definitions , t o begin with, are inevitably definition s applicable t o th e whol e o f whatever i s take n t o b e poetr y an d hence they mak e of poetry—or o f that whic h th e wor d "poetry " properly names—on e qualitativel y homogeneou s thing, howeve r variously i t ma y manifes t itsel f i n th e differen t poeti c genres . They ar e definitions , again , which , whil e thu s unifyin g poetr y 87

and settin g it in opposition to all non-poetic discourse, neverthe less preserv e th e continuit y of nature between i t an d th e kind s of discourse from whic h it is distinguished, s o that the difference s tend t o b e difference s o f degree rathe r tha n o f kin d an d poetr y necessarily participates, i n its peculiar way, in all the possibilitie s attributable t o its genu s (a s is especially clea r i n th e remark s of Messrs. Pottl e an d Ransom) . An d finally , wherea s i n Aristotl e the identit y o f th e concret e object s wit h whic h poetic s deal s i s something know n prio r t o th e inquir y int o thei r natur e an d kinds, an d henc e prio r t o th e definition s o f th e science , o n th e basis simpl y o f a commo n sens e apprehensio n tha t wha t ar e called epics , tragedies , comedies , etc . appea r t o constitut e a distinctive clas s o f things , th e determination , i n thes e othe r critics, o f wha t individua l work s o r group s o f work s ar e reall y poems ca n tak e plac e onl y afte r th e definitio n o f "poetry " o r "poem" ha s bee n established . It is thus correct to say of these other critics, as not o f Aristotle, that poetry exist s for them primarily i n a "verbal universe." And this fac t ha s consequence s o f th e greates t importanc e wit h respect bot h t o th e principle s o n which thei r criticis m i s based and t o the method by which these principle s ar e discovere d an d applied. Th e principle s o f poetics, fo r Aristotle, we have see n t o be principle s peculia r t o th e ar t o f poetry, a s the distinctiv e ar t of "making " or "imitating " huma n actions an d othe r experience s in words, or to on e or another of the variou s poetic species ; the y are identical wit h the necessar y and sufficien t interna l causes , or principles o f construction , that mus t operate i n th e writin g o f a given poem if it is to be a beautiful whole of the particula r for m desired; they vary accordingly from species to species; and they can be discovered only by reasoning a posteriori from th e inductivel y known natur e o f an y give n kin d o f existin g poem s t o th e con ditions o f artisti c succes s o r failur e i n poem s o f tha t sort . Fo r the critic s i n th e secon d tradition , o n the othe r hand , th e prin ciples of poetic criticism are necessarily specifications of principles operative throughou t th e fiel d o f writing a s a whole . Th e basi c principles o f poetr y ar e therefor e identica l wit h th e principle s basic t o al l varietie s o f verba l composition ; an d o f thes e th e most basic, as Quintilian long ago remarked, are the two elements 88

without whic h purposiv e speech o f any kin d could no t exist—re s and verba, things and language, a subject and the words in which it is expressed, a content and a verbal form; afte r whic h th e next most important , i n an y discours e tha t goe s beyon d a singl e utterance, i s arrangement. 97 If poetr y is to be studie d i n terms of its characte r as discourse, i n a contex t of othe r mode s o f verba l statement, thes e ar e indee d th e primar y element s t o whic h th e critic mus t refer an d upo n which he mus t build—as th e moder n critics I have quoted clearl y do—i n his effort s t o say what poetr y is as a special mode of speech, t o discriminat e its possible kinds , or to determine the standard s by which it i s to be judged . They are , i t wil l b e noted , th e element s whic h Aristotl e dis tinguished fo r rhetori c rathe r tha n fo r poetics, 98 an d hence , a s principles o f poetry, the y ar e essentiall y reductive , i n th e sens e that, unlike the distinction of object, means, manner, and "power," which applies only to imitative poems, they tend t o assimilate th e structure o f poetr y t o th e structur e o f an y discourse , howeve r "unpoetic," i n whic h w e ca n discriminat e aspect s o f content , language, an d arrangement . I t i s necessary therefor e to loo k for other principles through which the meaning s of these basic terms (and especiall y o f th e firs t two ) ca n b e s o specifie d a s t o giv e us a distinctiv e subject-matte r fo r th e criticis m o f poetry ; an d this is what the definitions o f poetry I have quoted an d the many others lik e the m i n thi s traditio n ar e designe d t o do . The y ar e based o n the assumptio n that poetry has no intrinsic natur e suc h as ca n b e know n sufficientl y b y a n inductio n o f th e condition s essential t o th e productio n o f poem s a s specia l kind s o f whole s but i s somethin g tha t participates , wit h a difference , i n th e nature o f discourse in general , o r rather i n wha t i s taken, hypo thetically, a s th e characteristi c o f discours e i n genera l whic h appears to illuminate most satisfactorily for the critic the problems and value s o f poetry. Thi s characteristi c onc e selected , th e nex t step i s th e determinatio n o f appropriat e differentiae ; an d fro m the hypothesi s thus formed th e criti c ca n then derive , b y dialec tical necessity of the kind illustrate d i n the first lecture, 99 al l th e more particular term s he need s for th e discussio n o f poetry an d poems. Nothing ca n be mor e evident, however , tha n tha t discourse as

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such ha s a n indefinit e numbe r o f distinguishabl e aspects , uses , and relations , an y on e of which ma y be mad e th e starting-poin t of a critica l system . W e hav e see n tha t i t ma y b e viewe d a s statement, a s communication , o r a s expression , an d correspond ingly differen t definition s o f poetr y consequentl y achieved . Th e definitions wil l b e different , too , accordin g a s poetr y i s though t to participat e most full y i n th e cognitiv e function s o f discourse , or i n it s function s o f entertainment , o r i n it s capacit y t o moul d character, o r t o symboliz e th e unconsciou s desire s an d action s of th e mind . And as these determinations an d other s vary , s o the nature of poetry will be supposed to be most completely reveale d when it is subsumed under rhetoric, o r dialectic, o r semantics, or psychology, o r anthropology , o r sociology—whe n i t i s treated , that is , differentl y i n differen t systems , as a kin d o f persuasio n in ornamented language, or as a mode of developed metaphor , or as a kin d of argumen t or "exploration, " or a s a n activit y aki n t o dreams, folktales, myths, and rituals, or as an instrument of social action, an d s o on . Al l these , an d other , possibilitie s hav e bee n exemplified i n the histor y of this critical tradition , an d th e futur e will doubtles s brin g fort h man y fres h analogue s an d model s of a similar sort. And i t i s muc h th e sam e wit h th e base s whic h critic s ma y choose fo r differentiatin g poetr y fro m whateve r ar e taken t o b e the non-poeti c mode s o f discourse . Consider , fo r example , Coleridge's famou s definitio n o f a "poem " i n Chapte r 1 4 of th e Biographia Literaria, in which, after sayin g that a poem "contains the same elements as a prose composition" an d that the differenc e between the m mus t therefore consis t i n a differen t combinatio n of thes e elements , "i n consequenc e o f a differen t objec t bein g proposed," he proceed s t o divid e th e possibl e "objects " o r aim s of compositio n into two kinds—theoretical or historical truth , an d pleasure—and the n t o divide pleasure , i n turn, int o tha t afforde d by the compositio n as a whole an d that afforde d b y th e elabora tion o f its parts; an d h e the n conclude s by describin g a poem as "that specie s o f composition , whic h i s oppose d t o work s o f science, by proposing for its immediate object pleasure, no t truth; and fro m al l othe r specie s (havin g this objec t i n commo n with it) it is discriminated b y proposing t o itself suc h delight from th e

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whole, a s i s compatibl e wit h a distinc t gratificatio n fro m eac h component part"100 Her e th e majo r distinctio n whic h provide s the critic's principles i s clearly on e of ends, the assumptio n bein g that, although ther e ca n be no composition that doe s not seek to afford bot h pleasure an d knowledge , compositions may yet diffe r fundamentally accordin g a s on e o r th e othe r o f thes e aim s i s their primar y reaso n fo r being. Th e controllin g differentia , however, ca n obviousl y b e draw n fro m an y on e o f severa l othe r causes o f discourse: fo r example , from th e facultie s o f th e min d involved i n it s production , a s whe n critic s contras t poetr y wit h science o r pros e i n term s o f a n oppositio n o f imaginatio n t o reason o r o f sensibility t o intelligence ; or , again , fro m th e kind s of response s discours e may evok e in readers , a s whe n poetr y i s set over against scientific, historical , or practical writin g in terms of a n oppositio n betwee n a n "aestheti c attitude " o f "perceptua l or contemplativ e enjoyment " and al l other attitude s tha t involv e a referenc e fro m th e discours e itsel f t o thing s o r actions; 101 or , again, fro m a consideratio n o f possible subject-matters , as whe n the essenc e o f poetr y i s sai d t o li e i n it s substitutio n o f fictio n for statement s o f fact, o r a s when th e illuminatio n o f experienc e is take n a s th e highes t functio n o f writing , an d poetr y i s con trasted wit h philosoph y an d scienc e i n term s o f it s concer n no t with "an y abstractio n o r generalizatio n o f experience " bu t wit h the experienc e itsel f i n all its particularit y an d ambiguity; 102 or , finally, from a division of the kind s or uses of language, a s when symbols ar e divide d int o those that merel y "indicate object s and instigate operations " an d thos e tha t "depic t o r enac t o r evok e what the y signify " an d poetr y i s the n identifie d a s symboli c expression of the second type.103 It i s not to be wondered at, therefore, that th e basi c term s for analysing poem s availabl e t o critic s i n this traditio n shoul d tak e on widel y differen t meanings , an d b e relate d t o on e anothe r i n widely differen t ways , a s a consequenc e o f th e grea t variatio n possible i n th e critics ' definitions . Dependin g upo n these , "con tent" in th e sens e of the psychologica l an d mora l tendencie s o f the autho r ma y be viewed a s an internal principl e in relation t o which th e "form " i s the externa l bod y (a s i n Loui s Cazamian' s history o f Englis h literature) ; o r "form " ma y b e though t o f a s

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internal an d "content " i n th e sens e o f th e ra w material s o f ex perience a s external (a s in Walter Pater) . Or "form" a s semantic "structure" ma y b e constitute d th e essenc e o f poetry , wit h "content" a s onl y it s paraphrasti c statemen t (a s i n Cleant h Brooks). O r th e distinctio n ma y b e reduce d t o on e betwee n "outer form " an d "inne r form " (a s i n Wellek' s an d Warren' s Theory of Literature). O r "form " i n poetr y ma y b e define d a s what distinguishe s poetr y a s syntheti c fro m pros e a s analytic , and "content " identifie d a s socia l attitud e an d thu s a s extra literary (a s i n F . W . Bateson' s English Poetry). O r "form " may be subordinate d a s concret e "presentment " t o "content " a s th e moral preoccupations tha t characteriz e a writer's "peculiar inter ests in life" and hence be incapable o f judgment apart from thes e (as i n F . R . Leavis' The Great Tradition). The grea t advantag e o f this mod e of criticism, indeed , i s that it encourages , collectively , th e highl y diversifie d approache s t o poetry whic h thes e example s illustrate . I t oppose s n o limit s t o the constructio n of any definition o r hypothesis or the applicatio n to poetry o f any theor y of value a critic ma y thin k significan t o r illuminating for his purpose; and this freedom t o explore dialectically al l conceivabl e aspect s an d relation s o f poetr y tha t ar e common t o poetr y an d othe r use s o f language ha s bee n respon sible for a large share of the critica l insight s an d observation s w e now possess. We ca n se e i n poetr y o r i n individua l poems , however , onl y what ou r critica l languag e permit s u s t o see ; an d i t i s th e in escapable limitatio n o f the language I have been describin g tha t it allow s us to discriminate onl y those traits o f content, medium , and structure in poetry that have analogues, positive or negative , in discours e of other kinds . For th e essenc e o f the method , onc e the critic' s principle s ar e determine d i n on e o f the way s I hav e mentioned, is comparison and contrast , an d thi s i s possible onl y on th e assumptio n that th e thing s compare d hav e som e funda mental nature in common which the critic ca n use as a continuum in his comparison. I t i s thus, fo r instance, tha t Mr . Ransom proceeds whe n h e decide s tha t a poem "is a loose logica l structur e with a n irrelevan t loca l texture" : th e continuu m her e i s clearl y

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the logical structur e whic h al l discourse has in common, and th e differentiation o f poetr y fro m othe r discours e i s achieve d b y identifying th e "structur e proper " o f poems with thei r necessar y "prose" elemen t an d findin g th e poetr y i n th e "irrelevan t an d foreign matter " whic h this supports in the poet' s words—i n brief, by resolving poetry into characteristics which are either modifica tions (witnes s "loos e logica l structure" ) o r polar opposite s (wit ness "irrelevant loca l texture") o f characteristics prope r t o scientific o r technical prose. 104 It i s the sam e logic als o that lead s Mr. Wimsatt, i n on e o f his recent essays , t o differentiat e the "verba l style" peculia r t o poetr y fro m tha t commo n t o mos t specie s o f prose b y settin g u p a shar p antithesi s betwee n th e "counter logical" an d th e "logical " use s o f language. 105 An d w e fin d th e same reasonin g i n mos t if no t al l o f th e criticis m tha t look s for "total meanings " o r "ultimat e assertions " i n tragedie s lik e King Lear, whil e insistin g tha t thes e work s ar e stil l no t strictl y didactic; fo r if poems are kind s of discourse, they must obviously have meaning s an d mak e assertions, an d th e critic' s busines s is to discover what it is that distinguishe s the statemen t of meaning in poems such a s King Lear from it s statemen t i n othe r varietie s of poeti c and non-poetic writing. I t i s easy to see, therefore, why the criti c who uses this languag e i s necessarily restricted, i n his selection o f attribute s fo r poetr y o r individua l poems , t o suc h characteristics as have clea r counterpart s o r logical contrarie s i n the non-poeti c discours e which h e take s as the othe r ter m o f his comparison. Thi s i s no t t o sa y tha t th e metho d i s incapabl e o f differentiating poetry , a s poetry, fro m othe r thing s o r o f servin g as a basi s fo r practica l criticis m o f a highl y particularize d an d perceptive sort . I t is , however, to sa y that th e discrimination s it permits betwee n poetr y an d othe r form s o f writin g o r betwee n the variou s kinds of poetry ar e such—an d suc h alone—a s ca n b e arrived a t by asking what characteristics amon g those possible in discourse ar e here presen t an d in what specia l modification s and combinations. It i s not a method, in other words , that allows th e critic, a s Aristotle' s metho d does , t o conside r poem s i n thei r peculiar aspec t as distinct kind s of concrete wholes, of which th e special character , a s poeti c wholes , i s determine d b y interna l 93

principles o f constructio n that have , a t leas t a s fa r a s imitativ e poetry i s concerned , n o stric t parallel s i n philosophy , science , rhetoric, or history.106

Ill I shal l no t dwel l o n th e long-continue d monopoly which thi s simple bu t extremel y flexible mode o f approac h t o poetr y ha s enjoyed i n ou r critica l tradition . I t i s certainl y a s ol d as , i f no t older than, Aristotle; but its monopoly was first clearly establishe d in the context of the grammatical and rhetorical studie s of literary texts an d problem s that flourishe d i n th e school s o f Hellenisti c Greece an d late r i n Republica n an d Imperia l Rome. 107 I t wa s then tha t moder n criticis m ha d it s tru e beginnings ; an d i f i t i s now for mos t of us unthinkable that poetry can be viewed in an y other ligh t tha n a s a kin d o f discourse, to b e analyse d i n term s of conten t an d form , th e ultimat e credi t o r blame, I think , must be give n to tha t brilliant age of philology an d eloquenc e an d t o the habi t whic h the n becam e deepl y fixe d i n men' s mind s of considering poetry, as well as philosophy an d history, in intimate companionship wit h th e othe r verba l arts . Th e associatio n thu s formed persisted , a s w e al l know , int o an d throughou t th e Middle Ages , manifestin g itsel f variousl y i n th e twelfth - an d thirteenth-century art s o f poetry tha t dre w upon th e Ad Herennium an d Cicero' s De Inventione, i n th e lon g traditio n o f al legorizing exegesi s which derive d fro m th e principl e (state d b y Augustine, amon g others) tha t no t onl y the word s but als o th e "things" o f discours e ar e meaningfu l signs , an d i n th e man y theoretical debate s a s to whether poetry is primarily a branch of grammar, o r a kin d o f argumentation or persuasion subordinat e to logic or morals, or a form o f composition using the figures and structural device s o f rhetoric. 108 Th e Renaissanc e ha d it s ow n problems an d characteristi c word s fo r discussin g them , an d i t had, too, the Poetics; but eve n in the new "Aristotelian" criticis m which emerge d i n th e middl e o f th e sixteent h century , th e in fluence o f Aristotle was overshadowed by that o f Cicero, Horace , and Quintilian ; an d i t i s clea r tha t man y of th e distortion s o f Aristotle's analysi s t o b e foun d i n suc h commentator s a s Robor-

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tello, Minturno, Scaliger, and Castelvetro , to sa y nothing o f thei r successors during the next two centuries, were the result, directl y or indirectly , o f thei r inabilit y t o conceiv e o f poetr y excep t i n terms o f analogies between i t an d rhetoric , logic , mora l philoso phy, an d history . No r ha s th e continuit y o f thi s traditio n bee n decisively broke n from th e sixteenth century to the present. Ther e is a clea r lin e o f descent , fo r example , fro m th e conception s o f humane learnin g whic h th e Renaissanc e dre w fro m Cicer o an d Quintilian t o th e eighteenth-centur y system s o f "rhetori c an d belles-lettres" an d fro m thes e t o suc h contemporar y theorie s of 'literature" a s thos e o f Thoma s Pollock 109 an d Welle k an d Warren. I t i s significan t tha t i n a numbe r o f recen t critic s "rhetoric" eithe r i s anothe r nam e fo r "poetics " o r i s mad e t o stand peculiarl y fo r th e structura l analysi s o f poem s a s dis tinguished fro m suc h other insight s into poetry a s can be derive d from grammar , dialectic , an d th e psycholog y an d anthropolog y of symbolic expression.110 The "new" criticism of our day—by which I mea n the criticis m that ha s bee n though t b y it s practitioner s an d other s t o diffe r most completely fro m th e criticis m of th e past—i s thus, a s fa r a s its basic languag e goes , a very old thing indeed . Tha t language , however, whil e remainin g constan t i n essential s throughou t th e long period fro m Hellenisti c Greec e to the twentieth century , has admitted o f man y change s fro m tim e t o tim e i n secondar y characteristics; an d I think we can best appreciat e th e distinctiv e orientation o f contemporary criticism by relatin g i t t o tw o majo r shifts i n critica l concept s tha t hav e take n place , withi n th e general tradition , sinc e 1700 . The firs t o f thes e i s th e shif t tha t led fro m th e relativel y specifi c "Aristotelian-Horatian " criticis m of th e Renaissanc e t o th e relativel y generi c criticis m tha t cam e increasingly int o vogu e durin g th e eighteent h centur y an d ha s largely flourishe d eve r since : fro m a typ e o f criticism , that i s t o say, which sough t t o mediat e betwee n universa l poetr y (a s discourse tha t instruct s throug h pleasing ) an d individua l poem s in terms o f th e distinguishin g aims , structures , conventions , an d models o f th e variou s recognize d poeti c genres , t o a typ e o f criticism i n which distinction s of genre are subordinate d t o thos e large distinction s o f poetic qualit y tha t ca n b e identifie d i n th e

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poet's handlin g o f word s an d subject s irrespectiv e o f th e par ticular "forms " hi s compositio n takes. 111 Fo r mos t succeedin g critics i n th e centra l lin e fro m th e generalizin g an d philosophi c critics of the eighteenth century, through Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Hazlitt , Arnold, Mill, and Pater, t o Eliot, Richards , Empson, Leavis, an d th e America n "new critics, " the focu s o f considera tion ha s bee n mainl y poetr y i n it s qualitativ e unity ; an d th e structure of poetry they have been chiefly, though not exclusively, concerned wit h ha s bee n th e commo n structure , howeve r variously they have defined it , that underlies th e many particula r and, fro m thi s poin t o f view , mor e superficia l structure s whic h had bee n the majo r objec t of attention fo r Renaissance and Neo classical critics . The secon d change that ha s helped t o determin e i n a crucia l way th e languag e o f contemporar y criticis m i s o f muc h mor e recent date . Th e ris e o f modern criticism, we ar e tol d b y on e of its best known representatives , is part of a general intensification of the study of language and symbol ism. Th e developmen t o f semantics , symboli c logic , cultura l anthro pology, an d th e psycholog y o f Jun g an d Freu d ma y al l b e take n a s responses t o the sam e genera l situatio n . . . the y al l bear upo n th e problem o f symbolis m (logica l an d extra-logical ) an d represen t at tempts t o recove r symboli c 'languages " whos e rea l importanc e ha s become eviden t t o u s onl y a s th e supportin g cultura l patter n break s down. It i s n o accident , therefore , tha t a grea t dea l o f moder n criticis m has occupie d itsel f wit h th e proble m o f ho w language actuall y work s and specificall y ho w it work s in a piece o f literature.112 We nee d no t accep t thi s statemen t as wholl y adequat e history , but i t does point, as I thin k everybody will agree, to one respect in which th e critica l effor t o f the presen t generation has differe d most significantl y fro m th e critica l effort s o f an y earlie r perio d since at leas t the Middl e Ages. It i s not tha t contemporar y critics hav e suddenl y discovered, after centurie s o f neglect, tha t th e languag e of poetry i s a topi c demanding the most serious kind of study, though they sometimes talk a s i f thi s wer e th e case . Th e chang e ha s ha d t o d o rathe r with th e natur e an d sourc e o f th e firs t principle s fro m whic h

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modern critics—o r the mor e advanced among them—have chose n to argue to the distinguishing characteristics o f poems as compositions i n words . Language has alway s indeed bee n a n importan t problem, a s severa l contemporar y critic s hav e recognize d b y their livel y interes t i n recoverin g an d bringin g u p t o dat e th e traditional analyses of tropes and figures developed in the rhetori c and criticis m o f antiquity an d th e Renaissance . Until the recen t past, however, most discussions of the languag e as well as of th e non-linguistic aspect s o f poems have been frame d i n term s tha t derived thei r meanin g an d relevanc e fro m som e other caus e of poetry tha n it s verba l medium . In th e formalisti c criticis m tha t flourished from th e Renaissanc e into the eighteent h century , the typical starting-poin t fo r critica l argument s wa s foun d i n th e possible effect s o f poetry upo n audience s an d readers ; a sig n of this i s th e grea t prominenc e i n th e critica l vocabular y o f tha t time o f word s like "instructio n an d pleasure, " "delightfu l teach ing," "inventio n an d judgment, " "th e probabl e an d th e mar vellous," "decorum, " "correctness, " "genera l nature, " "novelty, " and "taste," and the subordination to these distinctively rhetorica l principles o f term s relatin g t o th e characte r an d power s o f th e poet or to the qualities of diction and subject-matter that ought to be aime d a t i n differen t kind s o f poems . Th e shif t t o a mor e generalized kind of criticism that began in the eighteenth century was marked , i n it s initia l phase , b y th e introductio n o f term s designating broa d characteristic s o f poeti c subject-matter , wit h the resul t that th e discussio n of language was controlled, durin g this period , b y principle s signifie d i n suc h word s a s "tru e an d false wit, " "th e sublim e an d th e beautiful, " "th e terrible, " "th e tender," "th e picturesque, " "th e ludicrous, " an d s o on . An d finally, with the criticis m tha t developed i n the Romanti c period and persiste d throug h the nineteent h century , principles o f both of thes e sorts tended t o give place to principles draw n primarily from th e source s of poetry in th e basi c facultie s an d operation s of th e mind . No t th e pleasure s o r need s o f audiences , o r th e affective qualitie s o f object s o r actions , bu t th e natur e o f th e poet an d o f th e psychologica l an d mora l cause s upo n whic h poetry depend s no w became , a t leas t i n th e mor e influentia l critics o f this age , fro m Coleridg e an d Wordswort h on, the con 97

trolling points of reference for th e discussio n of poetic languag e and substance ; an d th e ke y position s i n th e critica l vocabular y were pre-empted by such terms, and their contraries , as "genius," "imagination," "emotio n recollected i n tranquillity, " "imaginative reason," "hig h seriousness, " "insight, " "intuition, " "sensibility. " From th e nineteent h centur y thi s traditio n o f psychological an d moral criticism, with its centr e of gravity in the qualitie s o f feeling an d intelligenc e whic h poetry reflects , ha s descende d t o ou r own time . I t wa s no t s o muc h agains t thi s traditio n itsel f tha t the pioneer s o f contemporar y criticis m i n th e secon d an d thir d decades o f th e presen t centur y wer e i n revol t a s agains t som e of it s later manifestations ; and i t ca n b e sai d o f at leas t on e important group of present-day critics—includin g writers a s divers e in othe r respect s a s Middleto n Murry , T . S . Eliot , an d F . R . Leavis—that th e languag e o f thei r criticism , fo r al l th e ne w prominence some of them have given to question s o f diction an d symbols, i s stil l i n it s essentia l constitutio n th e "romantic " language o f Coleridge , Wordsworth , and Arnold . This is not quite the case, however, with the large and growing body o f contemporar y critica l writin g whic h Professo r Brooks , in th e passag e I hav e quoted , appear s t o hav e especiall y i n mind. It i s true tha t fo r a good many devoteej s o f that criticism — among them Brooks himself and , before him , I. A . Richards—the Biographia Literaria ha s bee n a kin d o f sacre d book , mor e precious t o them , indeed , tha n t o critic s lik e Elio t an d Leavis . What the y have valued in Coleridge , however, has not bee n th e characteristic framewor k an d metho d of his criticis m but certai n of hi s doctrines, and thes e they have tended t o translate , in ways well exemplifie d b y Richards ' Coleridge on Imagination, int o the terms of a very different conceptua l schem e of their own. It i s a scheme—a s we see it operating not only in Richards and Brooks but i n the large number of contemporaries who share their inter est i n "th e proble m o f symbolism"—o f whic h th e firs t principle s are neithe r formal , a s i n Aristotle , no r rhetorical , a s i n muc h Renaissance an d Neoclassica l criticism , no r psychologica l an d moral, a s in th e "romantic " criticis m of the nineteent h an d earl y twentieth centuries, but, in the broad sense of the word, semantic. I mea n b y thi s tha t th e fundamenta l relationships wit h whic h 98

this criticis m i s concerned ar e no t th e interna l relation s o f part s and whole s in poems considered a s objects of art o r the relation s either of poems to the character s an d demand s of audiences o r of poetry t o it s origin s in th e imaginatio n an d sensibilit y o f poets , but rathe r th e relation s o f poem s t o th e "realities " whic h the y signify i n th e experience , interna l o r external , privat e o r social , of thei r maker s an d readers . Word s an d meanings , image s an d concepts, symbol s and referents—thes e ar e th e axe s o n which, i n this criticism , everythin g turns; by thes e poetr y i s constituted a s a specia l kin d o f language fo r th e expressio n or communication of specia l kind s of thought no t full y compassabl e by th e huma n mind i n an y othe r medium ; an d th e busines s o f th e theoris t o f poetry i s t o mak e clear th e natur e o f thi s languag e an d o f th e significant structure s it determine s in order that reader s ma y not either loo k for types of meaning in poetry which it is not fitte d t o give or fai l t o gras p th e subtle r o r deeper meaning s whic h onl y poems, o r a t leas t goo d poems , ca n yield . Amon g th e typica l slogans o f the schoo l are statement s lik e the followin g (whic h I cull fro m a variet y o f sources) : tha t "form " i n poetr y i s "mean ing," tha t "literatur e i s ultimatel y metaphorica l an d sym bolic,"113 that an y poe m i s "a syste m o f signs" 114 o r " a fabri c of meaning,"115 tha t an y goo d poe m necessaril y bear s " a tota l metaphoric relation" to "the realit y o r the man y circles o f realit y to whic h i t refers," 116 an d tha t t o understan d a poe m criticall y is "t o permit th e varie d component s of its tota l meanin g to tak e their rightful places within it." 117 And the exposition and application o f these an d othe r simila r doctrines ha s brough t int o vogu e a new critical vocabulary , the ke y elements o f which—all related in on e wa y o r anothe r t o th e centra l concep t o f meaning—ar e such word s a s "theme," "statement," "evocation, " "vision, " "tota l meaning," "tension, " "attitude, " "denotation, " "connotation, " "ambiguity," "metaphor, " "paradox, " "irony, " "symbol, " an d "myth." This semanti c approac h t o poetr y a s a specie s o f language — this latest versio n o f the Hellenistic-Roma n subjectio n o f poetic s to gramma r an d rhetoric—i s everywher e now , a s w e al l know , the dominan t critica l fashion , th e mod e o f dealin g wit h poetr y and it s structure tha t ha s give n us the mos t influential book s on

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critical theor y an d practica l criticis m o f th e pas t thre e decades , is no w securel y enthrone d i n th e critica l quarterlies , an d i s rapidly makin g its wa y into th e course s and dissertation s o f th e universities an d eve n into th e hithert o unreceptiv e page s o f th e philological journals . Looked a t broadl y o r fro m a distance , th e movement exhibits a striking unity of spirit and method , as well as a remarkabl e tendenc y t o mutua l admiratio n o n th e par t of its adherents . Considere d mor e closely , however , th e apparen t homogeneity o f th e "ne w criticism " is see n t o b e les s complet e than is often thought ; and it is not hard t o discover, beneath th e common preoccupation of these critics with "language," "symbol," and "meaning," at least two distinct ways, which are often associ ated i n individua l critics , o f gettin g a t th e semanti c natur e of poetry an d henc e o f definin g th e characteristi c symboli c struc tures that condition it s meanings and values . IV

For th e critics , suc h a s I . A . Richards , Willia m Empson , Wilson Knight, John Crowe Ransom, R. P. Blackmur, Allen Tate, Cleanth Brooks, Robert Penn Warren, an d thei r man y followers, who hav e take n th e firs t o f thes e tw o ways , th e languag e o f poetry, or the language which is poetry, is primarily language in the ordinar y sense of statement i n words . Their initia l problem , therefore, ha s bee n th e negativ e on e o f distinguishin g thi s language, an d o f vindicatin g it s claim s a s a mediu m fo r th e expression of truths o r "values" no t otherwis e accessible to us , in the relativel y narrow context of other modes of verbal discourse. They hav e proceede d consequently , i n th e fashio n describe d earlier i n thi s lecture , b y fixin g upo n som e familia r typ e o f verbal expressio n which i s admittedl y no t poetr y an d the n de riving the distinctiv e attributes an d structura l patterns o f poetry by dialectica l compariso n and contras t with this . Th e non-poeti c term o f referenc e (withou t whic h th e metho d wil l no t work , since the whole procedure depends upon securing the agreement of reader s tha t somethin g i s no t poetry ) ha s sometime s bee n prose i n general , sometime s discursiv e o r "rational " pros e (ex cluding, that is, the imaginative use of prose in fiction and drama 100

as bein g a t leas t partl y "poetic") , sometimes , and mos t characteristically, th e pros e o f technica l science . An d th e emphasi s i n the comparison has been sometimes on the on e and sometimes on the othe r o f th e tw o mai n axes , a s I hav e calle d them , o f thi s criticism: on the one hand, the character of the symbols by which "meanings" ar e expresse d o r determine d i n th e tw o oppose d spheres o f discourse ; o n th e othe r hand , th e natur e o f th e "meanings" themselve s tha t appea r t o separate poetr y mos t completely fro m scienc e or prose. In th e first case poetry emerge s as a particula r kin d o f meaningfu l expression , in th e othe r a s th e expression o f a particular kin d of meaning; but i n both case s th e characteristics ascribe d t o poetry will be such , and onl y such, as the criti c ca n discove r b y attendin g t o thos e semanti c trait s of discourse i n genera l whic h hav e analogue s bot h i n poetr y an d in th e non-poeti c writin g h e ha s take n a s th e othe r extrem e of his comparison . It has been discovered, thus , by different critics , that th e words of poetr y diffe r fro m thos e o f plain pros e o r scientifi c statemen t in bein g primaril y "emotive, " o r evocativ e o f attitude s an d feel ings, rathe r tha n directl y "referential"; 118 tha t th e essenc e o f poetic speec h i s not clarit y but ambiguity , in Willia m Empson' s sense o f "an y verba l nuance , however slight , whic h give s roo m for alternativ e reaction s t o th e sam e piece o f language"; 110 tha t the symbol s of poetry, unlik e those o f discursiv e prose, ar e un translatable, th e meanings being bound to the particular symbolic forms th e poe t ha s chosen; 120 tha t thi s for m ha s a value in itself over an d abov e its significativ e function , s o .that th e expression s in poetry ten d t o be "opaque" rathe r tha n "transparent"; tha t th e statements of poetry aim at a "synthetic" unit y achieved by fusin g together o r reconciling disparate o r discordant elements of meaning, wherea s th e statement s o f pros e ar e typicall y "analytic, " more closely tie d t o gramma r and t o th e step-by-ste p proces s of syllogistic inference; 121 tha t th e meaning s of words in poetry ar e not fixed by prio r definition , a s i n science , bu t ar e determine d immediately, i n th e poeti c discours e itself, b y th e "contexts " i n which the y stand; 122 tha t poeti c meaning s arise ou t o f a certai n rich an d paradoxica l "tension " i n poem s betwee n th e "logical " and th e "counterlogical " potentialities o f speec h an d rhythm; 123

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and finally, and more generally still, that, in contrast to the direc t and explici t metho d of prose, the metho d of poetry is character istically suggestiv e an d indirect , no t statin g it s meaning s bu t rendering the m dramaticall y i n images , metaphors , symbols , characters, and situations.124 There hav e bee n quit e a s man y differen t formulae , i n thes e critics, fo r the specia l kind of "meaning" which poetry embodies, or shoul d embody , a s fo r th e distinctiv e characte r o f poeti c speech; an d the y hav e bee n arrive d a t b y a simila r proces s of reasoning to what the content of poetry is from wha t the conten t of scienc e o r "rational" pros e admittedly i s not Fo r som e critic s the crucia l oppositio n separatin g th e tw o kind s o f languag e i s between statement s o f fac t an d implication s o f "attitudes , feel ings, an d interpretations"; 125 fo r others , betwee n structure s o f meanings that asser t o r deny the existenc e o f things an d "hypo thetical" structures tha t affir m onl y possibilities (s o tha t poetr y is somewhat akin to mathematics); 126 fo r other s again , betwee n the "rational, " 'logical, " "paraphrasable " o r "prose " meanin g which poetry share s in some degree with scienc e an d th e subtl e qualifications of this or additions to it that constitute the "poetry " of an y poem;127 for still others , between simpl e and easil y appre hensible meaning s that ca n be expresse d directly i n the form s of logical discourse , an d meaning s o f a mor e comple x o r difficul t sort tha t admi t onl y o f indirec t expressio n throug h metaphor , symbol, or myth; and s o on through many other simila r attempt s to set poetry apart fro m ordinar y or scientific languag e i n terms of th e kind s of things it ca n say . The grea t proble m fo r th e critic s o f this school , however, ha s turned on the question of what kind of unity and structure poetry has in view of its constitution as a mode of discourse comparable to scienc e an d "rational " pros e but sharpl y oppose d t o thes e i n both th e characte r o f the meaning s it convey s and it s manne r of conveying them . Th e answer s give n b y differen t critic s hav e taken rather differen t forms , but the y have all been governe d by the sam e two assumptions . I t i s take n fo r granted , i n th e firs t place, that , sinc e for m i n poetr y i s meanin g o f som e kind, th e structural unity o f an y poe m must be a unity o f significatio n or "theme," to b e detected , i n th e critic' s analysis , b y lookin g fo r

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some particular dominan t "attitude" or "interpretation" t o whic h all th e othe r themati c element s o f the poe m appea r t o b e sub ordinated i n a hierarchy whic h i s the poem' s "tota l meaning/' 128 Poetry, however, is not science or prose, although it may embody prose o r scientifi c meanings ; henc e th e "theme " whic h unifie s any genuine poem can never be a mere "abstraction" or anything that ca n b e adequatel y state d i n a simpl e paraphras e o f wha t the poe m seem s to b e saying ; fo r th e unit y o f a goo d poe m i s the unity , no t o f a rationa l argument , bu t o f a n organism , i n which th e theme , havin g foun d "it s prope r symbol , define d an d refined b y the participating metaphor s . . . becomes a part o f the reality i n whic h w e live—a n insight , roote d i n an d growin g ou t of concret e experience , many-sided , three-dimensional." 129 Th e structure o f a poem , therefore , ca n b e discovere d onl y b y ex amining al l o f it s parts , howeve r minute , i n thei r interrelation s or interaction s on e wit h another , s o that th e criti c i s "force d t o talk about levels of meanings, symbolizations, clashes of connotations, paradoxes, ironies, etc." 130 None of these ca n be abstracte d from th e poe m an d remai n poetry , a s a propositio n ca n b e abstracted fro m a scienc e an d stil l preserv e it s truth ; the y must all be considere d i n thei r context s as define d b y th e poem ; bu t the form of a poem, it should be observed, is not a principle ove r and above its constituent connected elements but rathe r th e sum total o f these: i t i s they—"all th e individua l relationships , impli cations, an d resolutions"—whic h togethe r "mak e up " th e poem' s form.131 I t i s not accidenta l tha t these critic s ar e fon d o f talking about "total meanings," "total assertions, " "total responses": what ever ma y be th e structur e o f a poem , it i s a structur e o f a sor t that can be foun d full y manifeste d i n any o f its constituent passages or sequences o f imagery, and it becomes the structur e o f the poem only by a kind of additive inclusio n of all the qualitativel y similar structures which compris e the totalit y o f the text . Henc e it is that i n any poetic analysi s exemplifying thes e principle s th e movement of the argumen t is likely t o be a movement from par ticular par t t o particula r par t an d throug h thes e eventuall y t o statements about the poem as a whole.132 The second assumption is one we have already noted , namely , that th e poeti c structur e thes e critic s ar e concerne d wit h i s th e 103

"essential" structure which emerges when poetry is viewed as one homogeneous kind of thing, whatever concrete varieties o f works the ter m ma y b e mad e t o include . I t ma y stil l b e usefu l t o classify poem s as dramatic, epic, lyric, satirical, etc . and likewise to discriminate the different possibl e patterns—such as the logical , the narrative , th e descriptive , th e repetitive , etc.—tha t ma y predominate in the arrangemen t o f their parts . These , however , ar e relatively superficial distinctions, pertaining rather to the materia l conventions an d technique s o f poetry tha n t o it s "structure " a s such; an d wha t i s wante d i s a principl e o f structur e inclusiv e enough t o allow us "to approach a poem by Donn e in the sam e general term s through which we approach a poem by Keats; or a poem of Wordsworth's, through the sam e terms which will appl y to a poem by Yeats," or to se e that th e Odyssey an d The Waste Land ar e constructions o f the sam e basic kind. 183 For if poetry is what it is here taken to be, it is clearly in this commo n structure rather tha n in the differentiatin g accident s of materials and tech niques tha t th e qualitie s whic h mak e o f thes e work s "poems " must of necessity reside. But wha t i s the "essentia l structure " o f poetry ? W e ca n bes t understand th e varian t formulation s of it s principle s give n b y these critics, I think, if we look first at the manner in which they have bee n derived . Th e metho d i s th e opposit e o f tha t whic h Aristotle though t bes t suite d t o inquirie s int o th e structur e o f both animal s and th e production s o f art—"t o stat e what th e de finitive characters are that distinguis h the [particula r specie s of ] animal as a whole; to explain what it is both in substance an d in form, an d t o dea l afte r th e sam e fashion"—i.e. , b y hypothetica l necessity—"with its several organs : i n fact , t o proceed i n exactly the sam e way as we shoul d do , were w e givin g a complet e de scription o f a couch."184 Such a method is applicable i n criticism , however, onl y when th e criti c i s i n a positio n t o formulat e in ductively the definitive characteristics and ends of particular kinds of poems ; and tha t i s precisely wha t these contemporar y critics , in thei r preoccupatio n wit h poetr y a s a kin d o f language, hav e been unabl e t o do , or rather hav e consistentl y sough t t o avoid . The definitiv e characteristics o f poetry, fo r them , ar e merel y it s differences fro m scienc e or "rational" prose, and its end is merely 104

to b e th e kin d o f languag e an d t o hav e th e kin d o f common structure whic h thi s assumptio n implies . The y hav e therefor e fallen back , i n thei r reasoning s fro m th e natur e o f poetry t o it s "essential structure, " upo n a metho d strikingl y lik e tha t whic h Aristotle attribute d t o th e earl y Gree k physiologers . "Now that with whic h th e ancien t writers , wh o firs t philosophize d abou t Nature, busie d themselves , wa s th e materia l principl e an d th e material cause. They inquired wha t this is, and wha t its charac ter; ho w the univers e is generated ou t o f it, an d b y wha t motor influence, whether, for instance, by antagonism or friendship . . ., the substratu m o f matte r bein g assume d t o hav e certai n in separable properties... ,"135 I d o no t wis h to pres s th e analog y too hard, bu t i t i s surely accurate t o sa y o f thes e moder n critics , first , tha t the y hav e tended t o argue to what the structure of poetry is from a n initial consideration o f it s materia l element s of languag e an d meanin g and th e "inseparabl e properties " whic h (a s i n th e definition s cited above ) inher e i n these , and , second, that the y hav e introduced somethin g comparable to the "motor influences" or natural forces b y whic h Aristotle' s ancient s sough t t o accoun t fo r th e formal configuration of the universe and o f the things it contains. Of bot h aspect s o f th e procedur e man y example s coul d easil y be given . I f w e ask , fo r instance , wh y i t i s tha t fo r Professo r Brooks the structure of the best poems is a structure of "paradox," the answe r is tha t "eve n th e apparentl y simpl e an d straightforward poe t i s force d int o paradoxe s by th e natur e o f hi s instru ment. . . . Th e method i s an extension of the normal language of poetry , not a perversion o f it." 136 Th e necessity , in short , i s a necessity not of any particular en d or effect a poet may be trying to achiev e bu t o f the natur e o f the matte r h e i s using, a s if w e were to say that the structur e of a house is what it is because of characteristics inherent in the builder' s materials, and thin k tha t a sufficien t account . It i s not, of course, as simple as that, for th e argument als o presupposes—an d thi s i s th e secon d aspect— a certain tendency in the poet's materials of non-scientific language and non-scientifi c though t t o mov e o f themselves, as i t were , i n the directio n o f form. O r rather, more exactly, in the directio n of two possibl e forms , on e o f whic h i s assume d to b e superio r t o 105

the other. For there lurks in the arguments of most of these critic s a moving principle o f explanatio n that has startling affinitie s wit h the contrariet y o f antagonis m and friendshi p ascribe d b y Aris totle t o the earl y natural philosophers. Th e material s o f a poem, we are often told , may be o f such a sort that the y tend naturall y to harmonize with on e another; and i n that cas e we get a struc ture of a simple and rather uninteresting type. In the best poetry , however, th e material s ar e suc h a s ten d naturall y t o generat e oppositions an d "tensions " o f all kinds; and th e structur e in that case i s the workin g out o f these int o a fina l "equilibrium." It i s in thes e term s tha t I . A . Richards, i n a familia r passage o f hi s Principles of Literary Criticism, distinguishes two kinds of poems, in the first of which—represented by "Break, Break, Break," "Rose Aylmer," and "Love' s Philosophy"—we have an ordere d develop ment o f "comparativel y specia l an d limite d experiences , wit h a definite emotion , fo r example , Sorrow , Joy, Pride , o r a definit e attitude, Love, Indignation, Admiration, Hope, o r with a specific mood, Melancholy, Optimism or Longing," an d i n th e secon d of which—represented b y th e "Od e t o a Nightingale, " "Prou d Maisie," "Sir Patric k Spens, " "The Definitio n of Love, " an d th e "Nocturnall upon S . Lucie's Day"—w e have structures character ized by "an equilibrium of opposed impulses." "The structure s of these two kinds of experiences," Richards says, "are different , an d the differenc e i s no t on e o f subjec t but o f th e relation s inter se of th e severa l impulse s active i n th e experience . A poem o f th e first grou p i s buil t ou t o f set s o f impulse s whic h ru n parallel , which hav e th e sam e direction. I n a poe m o f the secon d grou p the mos t obviou s featur e i s th e extraordinar y heterogeneit y o f the distinguishabl e impulses . Bu t the y ar e mor e tha n hetero geneous, the y ar e opposed . . . . The y [th e poem s o f the first group] wil l no t bear a n ironical contemplation . . . . Iron y in this sens e consist s in th e bringin g i n o f th e opposite , th e com plementary impulses ; tha t i s why poetr y whic h i s expose d to i t is not o f the highest order , and wh y irony itself is so constantly a characteristic of poetry which is."137 The notion that th e structur e of the bes t poetr y i s a structur e achieved throug h th e resolutio n int o som e kind o f equilibriu m of naturall y conflictin g o r oppose d element s o f languag e an d 106

thought undoubtedl y owes something historically t o th e genera l conception o f poetic unit y formulated by Coleridge i n his defini tion o f th e imaginatio n as th e powe r tha t "reveal s itsel f i n th e balance o r reconciliatio n o f opposit e o r discordan t qualities"; 188 and it s vogu e i n contemporar y criticis m i s certainl y i n par t a consequence o f th e grea t influenc e o f Mr . Richards . I woul d suggest, however , that suc h a view— a vie w which identifie s th e principle o f poeti c structur e wit h qualitie s describabl e a s "tension," "synthesis," "complex of attitudes," "paradox, " "irony, " or th e fusio n o f "logica l argument " an d "irrelevan t texture"—i s precisely wha t migh t be expecte d fro m critic s whos e method of reasoning i s suc h a s I hav e jus t described . A goo d poe m i s obviously a comple x unity o f som e sort , bu t th e onl y way the y can accoun t fo r th e particula r characte r o f it s structure—give n their starting-poin t i n th e "inseparabl e qualities " o f th e poet' s semantic materials—i s b y th e assumptio n o f a movin g cause , apart fro m an y specifi c forma l end s th e poe t ma y have , tha t i s capable o f bringing orde r ou t o f conflictin g impulses , attitudes , or symbolic devices without sacrificing o r suppressing th e conflic t itself. The assumption is clearly present, I think, in the followin g passage from Professor Brooks: The essential structure of a poem (a s distinguished fro m th e rationa l or logica l structur e o f th e "statement " whic h w e abstrac t fro m it ) resembles tha t o f architectur e o r painting : i t i s a patter n o f resolve d stresses. Or , to move closer stil l t o poetry by considering th e tempora l arts, th e structur e o f a poe m resemble s tha t o f a balle t o r musica l composition. I t i s a pattern o f resolutions an d balances an d harmonizations, developed throug h a temporal scheme. Or, to move still close r t o poetry, th e structur e o f a poem resemble s that o f a play . Thi s las t example , o f course , risk s introducin g onc e more th e distractin g element , sinc e drama , lik e poetry , make s use of words. Yet , on th e whole , mos t o f u s ar e les s incline d t o forc e th e concept o f "statement " o n dram a tha n o n a lyri c poem ; fo r th e ver y nature o f dram a i s tha t o f somethin g "acte d out"—somethin g whic h arrives a t it s conclusio n throug h conflict—somethin g whic h build s conflict into its very being.180

And th e poin t is perhaps eve n more explicit i n the contentio n of Robert Penn Warren tha t poeti c structur e becomes good poeti c structure by virtue precisely of the "resistances" t o form inheren t in its materials. 107

Can we [h e asks ] make any generalization s abou t th e natur e o f th e poetic structure? Fkst , it involve s resistances , a t variou s levels . Ther e is th e tensio n betwee n th e rhyth m o f th e poe m an d th e rhyth m o f speech . . . ; between th e formality of the rhythm and the informality of th e language ; betwee n th e particular an d th e general , th e concret e and the abstract; betwee n th e element s o f even th e simples t metaphor ; between th e beautiful an d the ugly ; betwee n idea s . . . ; betwee n prosaisms an d poeticisms. . . . Thi s lis t is not intended to be exhaustive; i t i s intende d t o b e merel y suggestive . Bu t i t ma y b e take n t o imply that the poet i s like the jiujits u expert ; h e wins by utilizin g th e resistance o f his opponent—the materials of the poem . In othe r words , a poem , t o be good , mus t earn itself. I t i s a motion towar d a point of rest, bu t i f i t i s no t a resiste d motion , i t i s motio n o f n o conse quence. . . . An d the goo d poe m must , i n som e way , involv e th e resistance; i t mus t carry somethin g o f the contex t o f its ow n creation ; it must come to terms with Mercutio . . . . An d all this adds up to the fact tha t th e structur e i s a dramati c structure , a movemen t throug h action towar d rest, throug h complicatio n towar d simplicit y o f effect. 140

There i s no critica l language , a s I hav e said , tha t canno t b e made t o yiel d valuabl e observation s an d insight s whe n i t i s applied, wit h skil l an d discretion , t o individua l works , an d th e fruitfulness, withi n it s limits, of this semantic language ha s bee n exemplified o n man y occasions . I t canno t b e objected , either , that i t ha s le d t o statement s abou t poeti c element s an d poeti c structures whic h ar e no t easil y verifiabl e i n poem s whe n w e examine the m i n th e ligh t o f it s principles : wh o i s ther e who , having looke d intentl y fo r instance s o f "tension, " "paradox, " o r "irony," has ever failed t o find them? The real difficult y wit h th e method, i t seem s t o me , i s twofold . It s controllin g ai m i s th e differentiation o f poetry as poetry from othe r things, but i n so far as it accomplishe s this, it is at th e cos t of leaving us with a view of poetr y itsel f fro m whic h al l excep t th e mos t genera l kin d of formal distinction s hav e bee n exclude d i n th e interes t o f pre serving it s essenc e a s a homogeneou s an d uniquel y valuabl e thing. I t canno t bu t b e tha t i n th e lon g run th e universall y fel t differences amon g poeti c form s an d effect s shoul d hav e thei r revenge and that w e should begin to ask whether ther e is indeed any genera l principl e o f poeti c structur e tha t ca n b e applie d significantly t o lyri c an d drama , th e Odyssey an d The Waste Land. An d the n too , whe n w e observ e tha t th e sam e typ e o f 108

common structur e whic h w e ar e aske d t o thin k distinctiv e o f poetry i s t o b e found , b y th e sam e mod e o f analysis , i n man y works not included in poetry by these critics—in Plato's dialogues , for instance , or the Religio Medici, o r the essay s of Emerson and Carlyle—it canno t bu t b e tha t w e shoul d presentl y wonde r whether th e differentiatin g essence o f poetry, i f there be suc h a thing, doe s not continu e afte r al l to elud e us. 141 V

The most obvious difference betwee n thi s an d th e secon d contemporary approach t o th e semanti c aspec t o f poetry lie s i n th e scope o f the contex t withi n whic h poetr y i s placed fo r th e pur pose of exploring its nature and structure as a kind of meaningful language. In th e though t o f all the writers , suc h as the lat e Pro fessor Coomaraswamy , Maud Bodkin, Kenneth Burke, Edmund Wilson, Lione l Trilling , Richar d Chase , Franci s Fergusson , an d Northrop Frye (t o mention only a few conspicuous names), who have show n u s th e possibilitie s o f thi s othe r approach , th e opposition o f poetry t o scientifi c and "logical " discours e i s still , indeed, fundamental ; but th e centr e o f interest i n thei r theorie s has shifte d fro m a preoccupatio n wit h th e negativ e analogie s between poetry , i n it s verba l aspects , an d science , t o a pre occupation wit h th e positiv e analogie s betwee n poetry , viewe d in terms of its conten t of meanings, and th e variou s other modes —not al l o f the m verba l strictly—o f objectifyin g th e conception s and impulse s o f th e mind , an d henc e o f orderin g experienc e symbolically, whic h have been se t ove r against scienc e an d dis cursive logic , i n th e speculation s o f the pas t half-century , a s so many pre-logical o r extra-logica l types of "language." Th e affini ties betwee n th e tw o critica l partie s hav e indee d bee n close . "Words," a s Professo r Brook s tell s us , "ope n ou t int o th e large r symbolizations on all levels—for example , into archetypal symbol, ritual, an d myth . The critic' s concer n for language' need no t b e conceived narrowly , eve n i f hi s concer n lead s t o a n intensiv e examination: i t ca n b e extende d t o th e larges t symbolization s possible."142 W e ar e stil l dealing , i n short , wit h a n essentiall y semantic approach , i n whic h critic s o f th e secon d schoo l hav e 109

easily bee n abl e t o utiliz e th e theorie s an d result s o f th e firs t The tw o schools , however , ca n be profitabl y distinguishe d wit h respect no t onl y to thei r context s and primar y dat a bu t als o t o the characteristi c direction s o f thei r reasoning : wherea s th e critics o f the first group have tended t o giv e us a "constructive " account o f poetr y (having firs t reduce d poetr y t o it s commo n properties), th e critic s o f th e secon d grou p hav e bee n largel y intent o n interpreting poetr y "reductively," in terms of something assumed to be far more primitive and basic in human experience, and thi s eve n when they have insisted tha t poetr y i s not merely that into which it is resolved. As everybod y knows , th e insight s upo n whic h thi s criticis m has been founde d ar e th e achievemen t not o f literary critic s bu t of theorist s an d scholar s i n severa l othe r discipline s tha t hav e risen t o prominenc e sinc e th e late r year s o f th e nineteent h century, and especiall y of two of these—the cultural anthropology of Si r Jame s Frazer , Jan e Harrison , Emil e Durkheim , Lor d Raglan, an d man y others , an d th e psychoanalysi s o r analytica l psychology of Sigmund Freud an d C . G. Jung and thei r innumerable disciple s an d deviationis t followers. 143 Distinc t a s th e tw o developments have been i n their origin s and basi c concepts , th e influences the y hav e exerte d o n th e genera l though t an d par ticularly o n the criticis m of the las t two generations have tended to converge , thank s i n par t t o th e interes t o f som e o f th e psy chologists—notably those of the Jungia n school—in applying their explanations t o th e material s of th e anthropologist s an d i n par t to the effort s o f philosophers o f knowledge like A. N. Whitehead , Ernst Cassirer , Susanne Langer, an d others , to construc t general theories o f symbolism capable o f subsuming the contribution s of both groups. The response s o f literary critic s t o thi s comple x and dynami c movement hav e take n severa l forms , th e mos t fundamenta l of which can be see n i n the genera l assumption s about poetr y an d criticism tha t underli e th e procedure s o f mos t o f th e critic s i n our second semanti c school. Whether the y have been influence d mainly by th e psychologist s or mainly by th e anthropologist s or, as has become mos t usual, by bot h i n varyin g proportions, they have been o f one mind, to begin with, in thinking of poetry a s a

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"symbolic language" having close affinities bot h o f nature an d of origin wit h dream s an d othe r primar y psychi c manifestations, with folktale s an d oracles , ritual s an d myths , an d i n definin g "symbolic language " broadl y a s an y mod e o f activit y i n whic h inner experiences , feelings , an d thoughts , eithe r individua l o r collective, ar e expresse d "a s i f the y wer e sensor y experiences , events i n th e oute r world/' 144 The y hav e conceive d o f thi s language, moreover, not only as quite distinct i n its grammar and logic from an y of the conventional languages we use in science or everyday intercourse , bu t a s th e on e natura l an d universa l language o f the huma n race, commo n alike to civilize d me n an d savages, bu t easil y obscure d unles s w e penetrat e beneat h th e surface o f wha t me n sa y o r d o t o th e underlyin g natur e o f th e experiences which their symbol s serve to express . The importan t meanings, in short , ar e the hidde n meanings ; it i s in thes e tha t the highes t value s of poetry lie , sinc e they ar e closes t t o what is basic an d mos t determinative in our inne r lives . "Ever y relatio n to th e archetype, " say s Jung , "whethe r throug h experienc e o r the mere spoken word, is 'stirring,' i.e. it is impressive, it calls u p a stronge r voic e tha n ou r own . Th e ma n wh o speak s wit h pri mordial image s speak s wit h a thousan d tongues ; h e entrance s and overpowers , while a t th e sam e time he raises th e ide a h e is trying t o expres s abov e th e occasiona l an d th e transitor y int o the spher e o f th e ever-existing . H e transmute s persona l destin y into th e destin y o f mankind , thu s evokin g al l thos e beneficien t forces tha t hav e enable d mankin d t o fin d a rescu e fro m ever y hazard an d t o outliv e th e longes t night . Tha t i s th e secre t of effective art . Th e creativ e process , i n s o fa r a s w e ar e abl e t o follow it at all, consists in an unconscious animation of the arche type, an d i n a developmen t an d shapin g o f thi s imag e til l th e work is completed."145 Poetry, indeed, becomes impoverished and superficial i n proportio n a s i t cut s itsel f of f fro m it s source s i n the myth s an d othe r "symbolizations " whic h mos t completel y embody th e universa l meaning s of mankind . "Later on, " write s A. K. Coomaraswamy, "all thes e motifs fal l int o the hand s of th e writers o f 'romances/ litterateur s an d i n th e en d historians , an d are n o longe r understood . Tha t thes e formula e hav e bee n em ployed i n th e sam e wa y al l ove r th e worl d i n th e tellin g o f 111

variants and fragment s of the on e Urmythos of humanity implies the presence , i n certai n kind s o f literature , o f imaginativ e (iconographic) value s fa r exceedin g thos e o f th e belle-lettrist' s fantasies, o r th e kind s o f literature tha t ar e base d o n 'observa tion/ " 146 It i s essential fo r criticism, therefore , to be able to rea d the "symboli c language " in whic h a t leas t th e greates t poetr y is written; an d thi s language, i t i s obvious, can be bes t know n by studying i t i n it s leas t sophisticate d manifestation s i n th e un conscious operations of the individual psyche and in the symbolic acts an d imaginations—th e folktales , rituals, an d myths—o f pre civilized peoples. The starting-poin t o f thi s criticism , accordingly , i s no t th e nature o f poetr y bu t th e natur e o f th e universa l symboli c pro cesses out of which, it is assumed, poetry has somehow arisen an d in which, in varying degrees, poetry, together with our responses to poetry, necessaril y participates . It s genera l hypotheses , a s a result, ar e o f two kinds. The first thing tha t ha s t o be posited , if the criticis m i s to proceed , i s th e identit y an d th e "inseparabl e attributes" of the non-poeti c substrate , whethe r psychologica l o r cultural, whic h th e criti c ha s chose n a s hi s base . I f thi s i s pri marily psychological , wha t i s th e psycholog y t o be—tha t o f Freud o r o f Jun g o r o f somebod y else ? Or , i f i t i s cultura l primarily, what view is to be taken, among the conflicting possible views, of such things as ritual s an d myths? 147 How , for example, are thes e related , an d ar e w e t o suppos e tha t ther e ar e man y myths or really onl y one basic myth with man y variant transfor mations?148 The critic will naturally be eager to associate himself with the most plausible or at least the most recent and fashionable of the many available theories in either field that migh t serve his needs. Bu t he wil l als o have t o make up hi s mind a t th e outse t about anothe r matter : th e natur e o f th e cause s throug h whic h the archetype s o f poetry come to be presen t in poems; and her e too he ha s a fairly wid e range o f choice, fro m Jung' s hypothesis of a collectiv e unconsciou s o r racia l memory 149 o r Coomara swamy's notion of a "Philosophia perennis" 150 t o the mor e litera l types o f explanatio n tha t suppos e eithe r a continuin g respons e to continuin g fundamenta l experiences 151 o r simpl e historica l transmission.152 112

Whatever th e critic' s hypothesi s in these tw o respects ma y be, it wil l functio n i n the criticis m a s a genera l "abstract " principle (in Hume' s sense) , th e consequence s o f whic h wil l b e relate d by dialectica l rathe r tha n hypothetica l necessit y t o th e poem s or poetic form s t o which it is applied. The natur e of tragedy an d comedy wil l thu s b e a deductio n fro m th e natur e o f the under lying an d origina l myt h of which, by hypothesis , the y ar e take n to represent tw o contrary derivatives; 153 an d th e structura l part s of traged y wil l b e distinguishe d an d define d b y correspondenc e with the structural parts of the ritual or the psychic process which has bee n selecte d a s their archetype. 154 Th e method , i n short , is of th e sam e general order as that we have attributed t o the othe r contemporary school. The chie f preoccupatio n o f th e critic s wh o hav e mad e thes e assumptions has bee n wit h th e semanti c structure s o f particula r works, from th e Gree k epics an d drama s which wer e the object s of the pionee r researches of Jane Harrison, Gilbert Murray , F. M. Cornford, and other members of the Cambridge school of classical anthropologists t o th e innumerabl e medieva l an d moder n ro mances, novels, dramas, and lyric s to which th e sam e method of archetypal interpretatio n i n eithe r psychologica l o r anthropo logical term s o r a combinatio n o f bot h ha s bee n applie d mor e recently.155 The suppositio n governing all these studie s has bee n the same; namely, that the true meaning of a poem, no more than of a myt h o r a religiou s rite o r a dream , i s t o b e looke d fo r o n the surface which it presents to the reader, or indeed in anything that it s write r ca n b e suppose d t o hav e deliberatel y contrived . Its tru e meaning is what i t stand s for or objectifies i n the under lying experience, individual or collective, of the poe t himself an d of suc h of his readers as can be le d t o penetrate belo w its merely particular an d historicall y determine d pattern s o f imager y an d theme. Th e structur e o f a poem is like the structur e o f a dream, as th e psychoanalyst s have taugh t u s t o understan d this; i t i s a structure wit h a t leas t tw o levels , correspondin g to it s manifes t and it s laten t conten t respectively ; an d i t i s the busines s o f th e critic-interpreter t o direc t ou r attentio n awa y fro m wha t th e poet, on the surfac e of his work, seems to be saying , or from wha t earlier criticis m woul d hav e bee n conten t t o allo w hi m t o say , 113

to what is really going on in the depths of his mind or personality, however unaware he may be; and that wil l always be something more general and deeply human than a t first appears, an d ofte n contradictory to the surfac e meaning . It i s no accident tha t some of thes e critics , i n castin g abou t fo r device s o f interpretatio n adequate t o thi s vie w o f poetry , hav e foun d a mode l fo r con temporary criticis m i n th e long-neglecte d medieva l schematis m of th e fou r level s o f meanin g a s described , amon g others , b y Thomas Aquinas an d Dante . "Wha t is possibly mos t in orde r a t the moment, " says one o f them, "i s a thorough-goin g refurbish ment o f th e medieva l four-fol d metho d o f interpretation , whic h was first developed . .. for just such a purpose—to make at leas t partially availabl e t o the reason that complex of human problems which ar e embedded , dee p an d imponderable , i n th e Myth/' 156 Finally, althoug h th e archetype s o f poems are i n poems , they can never b e know n from a n examinatio n only of poems. Henc e the necessar y relianc e o f thes e critic s no t onl y o n th e genera l theories o f th e anthropologist s an d psychologist s bu t also , an d even more exclusively, on their particula r formulae an d findings , as is abundantly evident i n thei r constan t use o f suc h analytica l devices a s th e Oedipu s comple x of Freud , th e progression-and retrogression pattern o f Jung, and the lists which these and othe r psychologists have given of symbolic tropes, and likewise in thei r no less frequent adaptation to critical purposes of what they have read i n Fraze r an d other s abou t fertilit y an d initiatio n rites , scapegoats, heroes , th e Adoni s myth, and th e killin g o f the god king. All this , however , shoul d becom e muc h cleare r i n th e nex t lecture, i n whic h I shal l dea l wit h wha t ha s happene d t o th e structures o f a certai n numbe r o f generall y familia r poem s an d other literar y work s when they ar e discusse d i n th e tw o relate d semantic language s whic h no w mak e up, a s w e hav e seen , th e chief resource s o f contemporar y criticis m i n it s mor e advance d forms.

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Conceptions of poetic structure in contemporary criticism T H E F I N A L T E S T o f an y critica l languag e i s wha t it s par ticular schem e o f concept s permit s o r encourage s u s t o say , i n practical criticism , abou t individua l works . And i n th e ligh t o f this test , i t woul d see m tha t th e critica l revolutio n o f th e pas t three decades—th e revolution tha t ha s give n us th e semanticall y oriented theorie s o f poetry discussed i n the las t lecture—has been extraordinarily fruitfu l i n concrete results . Tha t a t least ha s bee n the verdic t o f man y o f th e writer s wh o hav e committe d them selves, mor e o r les s exclusively , t o th e ne w method s o f in terpreting literar y works which die semantic movement has made available. "Critica l writin g lik e this, " say s Mr . Ransom , commenting o n a page o f subtle verba l analysi s b y R . P. Blackmur , "is done in our time. I n dept h an d precision a t onc e it i s beyond all earlier criticis m i n ou r language." 157 Th e "onl y profitable ap proach to Shakespeare," Mr. Knights assures us, "is a consideration of hi s play s a s dramati c poems " wit h clos e attentio n t o th e thematic structur e mos t completel y expresse d i n thei r imager y and diction ; and o f this approach i t has remained for our generation, h e says , afte r thre e centurie s o f criticis m directe d t o les s important things, to discover the proper technique. 158 "Our age, " we ar e tol d i n a recen t essa y o n th e movemen t as a whole , "i s indeed a n ag e o f criticism . Th e structur e o f critica l idea s an d the practica l criticis m tha t Britis h critics—Leavis , Turnell , Emp 115

son, Read—and American critics—Ransom, Tate, Brooks, Warren, Blackmur, Winters—have contrived upon the foundations o f Elio t and Richard s constitut e a n achievemen t i n criticis m th e lik e of which has not been equaled i n any previous period o f our literar y history."159 And there would appear t o be ample warrant for such enthusiasm not onl y in th e man y example s of "close readings" of texts bu t als o i n th e larg e numbe r o f thorough-goin g "revalu ations" o f th e grea t work s an d writer s i n ou r literar y traditio n which thi s schoo l of critic s ha s give n us . Th e criticis m o f lyri c poetry ha s been transformed; the criticis m o f the dram a and th e novel is in process of transformation; we now have a Shakespeare, or rather severa l Shakespeares , th e existenc e o f whom has bee n one o f th e startlin g discoverie s o f ou r time . Let u s suppose , a t leas t fo r th e duratio n o f thi s lecture , tha t we hav e bee n convince d b y thes e claim s an d thes e apparen t evidences of progress in criticism and hav e resolved to deal wit h the proble m o f th e structur e o f particula r poeti c work s i n th e terms provided b y th e curren t vie w of poetic for m a s "meaning " and o f literature a s "ultimately metaphorica l an d symbolic. " W e should then have , as I suggested in the last lecture, th e choic e of two rathe r distinc t approache s t o th e question , wit h th e possi bility that these might nevertheless be combined in a single more comprehensive view . In the first approach ou r concer n woul d b e with poetr y considere d a s a specia l kin d o f languag e fo r th e expression of meanings that canno t be expressed, or so accurately expressed, i n othe r mode s o f discourse , an d henc e wit h th e structures o f meanin g whic h poet s themselve s hav e devised ; i n the secon d approach , ou r emphasi s would fal l predominantl y o n the participatio n o f poetry , certainl y o f grea t poetry , i n th e common symboli c operations o f the huma n mind, an d henc e o n the structure s o f meanin g which , becaus e the y ar e basi c an d universal i n man' s experience , ar e i n a sens e give n t o poet s rather tha n create d b y them . Th e first would be a kind o f "Aristotelian" approach (thoug h withou t Aristotle' s device s fo r differ entiating poeti c forms ) tha t woul d lea d t o a concentratio n o n "symbolic structure" ; th e secon d woul d b e a kin d o f "Platonic " approach (thoug h with a dialectic movin g in the opposit e direc tion fro m Plato's ) tha t woul d issu e typicall y i n a concentratio n on "archetypal patterns. " 116

II Let u s imagine, t o begi n with , tha t w e ar e critic s o f th e firs t of thes e tw o types , fo r who m lyric poems, dramas , an d work s of fiction ar e semanti c structure s o f a distinctiv e kin d communi cating, b y symboli c device s peculia r t o poeti c o r imaginativ e literature, a "tota l meaning " tha t i s primaril y o f th e poet' s ow n making, howeve r universall y significan t i t ma y als o be . Give n such a wor k to b e interprete d an d judge d i n thes e terms , ho w can w e procee d an d wha t sor t o f results ca n w e expec t t o get ? Our proble m wil l b e th e same , le t u s remember, whethe r th e work is a lyric like Lycidas, a traged y lik e King Lear, a comedy like Much Ado about Nothing, a tragicomedy lik e Cymbeline, a serious novel like The Brothers Karamazov, a n allegor y lik e The Faerie Queene, or a satire lik e The Dunciad. As poetic or imaginative work s we shal l no t confus e these , i n ou r readings , wit h scientific, philosophical , o r rhetorica l statements ; bu t w e shal l not forget that poetic meaning or expression of meaning, wherever we find it, is one homogeneous kind of thing, i n relation t o which the forma l o r technica l difference s amon g poem s ar e eithe r irrelevant o r have only a subordinate importance, as determining only th e particula r artisti c mean s throug h whic h th e writer' s expressive intentio n o r hi s insigh t int o spiritua l realit y i s mad e evident. Th e basic term s we shall use in our discussion wil l con sequently be—and they can only be—the two terms that differenti ate th e element s presen t i n al l suc h work s n o matte r o f wha t specific kind . A poem , considere d i n thi s generalize d way , i n abstraction fro m th e peculia r forma l end s an d effect s a t whic h different poem s aim , i s a composit e o f "meanings " o r "themes " (in th e sens e of the idea s o r attitude s o r resolution s of oppose d impulses whic h i t symbolizes ) an d o f th e verba l an d technica l devices b y whic h thes e ar e give n concret e "poetic " embodimen t in the poet' s words. The "themes" wil l var y from poe m to poem, and we shall see later ho w they may be identifie d o r defined . All poems, novels, and dramas, we must insist, either have organizing themes or else are mer e entertainments an d henc e not worth y of serious consideration ; w e mus t remember , a s on e o f ou r con temporaries ha s insisted , tha t an y poem , i n s o far a s i t i s trul y the poet's , "involves hi s own view of the world , his ow n values, "

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and hence it will, "for better o r worse, have relevance, by impli cation at least, to the world outside the poem" and be "not merely a devic e fo r creating a n illusion/' 160 And if it shoul d b e pointe d out t o u s tha t t o sa y this i s to blu r th e ol d distinctio n betwee n imitative an d didacti c work s of literary art , o r rather t o make all good poems , i n th e sens e o f al l poem s tha t hav e "relevanc e t o life," essentiall y didacti c productions , ou r repl y mus t be simpl y that w e are not cutting our cake that way—tha t fo r ou r purposes the differenc e tha t matter s i s th e differenc e betwee n work s i n which we can find "themes" an d works in which w e cannot, an d that ther e ar e n o works , amon g thos e possesse d o f genuin e poetic value, that d o not fal l i n the first of these classes . We shall accordingly not be content until we have discovered, for example , that th e balla d o f "The Thre e Havens, " through it s contrasting symbol s o f th e raven s an d o f th e knight' s hawks , hound, and "fallow doe," represents two opposite ways of looking at life , th e on e in purel y materialisti c terms , the othe r i n terms that fin d "a n importanc e i n lif e beyon d mer e materia l circum stance";161 o r tha t Wordsworth' s "Intimations " ode , throug h it s imagery of light an d darkness , explores "with som e sensitiveness the relatio n betwee n th e tw o mode s of perception , tha t o f th e analytic reaso n an d tha t o f th e synthesizin g imagination"; 162 o r that th e centra l conflic t i n Josep h Conrad' s Victory i s betwee n the force s o f Life , wit h thei r positiv e value s o f goodness , love , and faith , represente d b y Lena , an d th e force s o f Death , wit h their negativ e values of evil, hate, and scepticism, represente d b y Mr. Jones and hi s companions, the contes t centring upo n Heyst , "who manifests the pul l o f these two opposit e poles of being."163 We must not give the impression, however, that such structures of meanin g are explicitl y state d b y th e work s in whic h w e find them o r tha t the y ca n eve r b e grasped , i n thei r ful l emotiona l significance, excep t b y sensitiv e stud y o f th e indirec t poeti c means through which they are achieved. W e shall need term s to discriminate an d t o tal k abou t these ; an d w e canno t d o better , in thi s respect , than t o us e th e traditiona l name s whic h olde r critics invente d fo r ver y differen t rhetorica l o r poeti c purposes : continuing t o speak , thus, with Aristotl e and th e late r critic s i n his line, about plot and characters, but treating these as "carriers" 118

of meanin g rathe r tha n a s structura l parts ; reviving , a s Mr . Wimsatt an d other s hav e done, 164 th e ancien t an d Renaissanc e rhetoric o f tropes an d figures , bu t givin g a specia l importance — and a n enlarged definition—t o suc h "figures of thought" as image , symbol, metaphor , paradox , irony , antithesis , synecdoche , alle gory, pun, and the like. Such will be our not very complicated analytica l apparatu s fo r reading poem s o f al l kinds , an d w e ca n us e i t i n tw o differen t but complementar y ways. We may want t o put th e emphasis , in our writin g o r teaching , o n th e peculia r manne r i n which , i n poetry a s distinc t fro m othe r kind s of writing, meaning s are ap prehended an d expressed . W e shal l start , i n tha t case , wit h th e "theme," assumin g that thi s i s easil y knowabl e an d anyway , in our abstrac t statemen t o f it , no t a primar y caus e o f th e poem' s value, an d ou r attentio n wil l b e concentrate d o n discriminatin g the variou s element s o f rhythm , diction , statement , imagery , symbol, character , narrative , an d s o on , tha t co-operate , i n a successful lyric , drama , o r novel , t o giv e body , precision , an d emotional forc e t o wha t th e poe t i s tryin g t o say , ou r criteri a being relative t o the "form " rather tha n t o the idea s of the poe m and turnin g on suc h general qualitie s a s concreteness , intensity , "organic unity, " an d dramati c rendering . Th e resul t wil l b e th e so-called "formal" criticism which has been made widely familiar , on this continent a t least, in Brooks' and Warren's Understanding Poetry, an d i s practised, wit h notabl e minutenes s and ingenuity , by Mr. Blackmur. We may prefer, however , t o throw th e emphasi s o n the mean ings o f poems rather tha n o n thei r techniqu e o f meaningfu l ex pression; an d i n tha t cas e w e shal l ten d t o follo w th e mor e radical line take n b y Brook s and Warre n themselve s i n som e of their later writings and by the many "new" critics of Shakespeare, from Wilso n Knigh t t o Harol d Goddar d an d Rober t Heilman , who hav e studie d th e play s fo r thei r poeti c "meanings " rathe r than fo r their representations o f characters an d actions . We shal l go in , tha t i s t o say , fo r wha t ar e calle d "interpretations, " an d more particularl y fo r "interpretations " tha t wil l uncove r deepe r significances i n well-know n poems than the y hav e usuall y bee n thought t o contain . Ou r genera l procedur e wil l consist , accord -

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ingly, i n reducin g th e concret e element s o f poems , plays , o r novels t o th e underlyin g theme s an d interrelate d pattern s o f themes whic h the y embody , an d ou r criteri a o f value , bein g relative t o these rather tha n t o the expressio n itself, will requir e statement i n term s lik e "profundity, " "maturity, " "complexity, " "universality," o r "imaginativ e vision. " Let us follow, then, thi s secon d line an d conside r what equip ment w e nee d an d wha t w e hav e t o d o i n orde r t o revea l th e "symbolic structures " o r "themati c frameworks " that lie , a s ou r method mus t suppose , beneat h th e surfac e o f al l seriou s poeti c works, as the primar y en d o f poets i n writin g o r a t an y rate as our chie f rewar d i n contemplatin g thei r productions . Wha t w e shall want to be abl e t o d o ca n be gathere d fro m wha t som e of the critic s whos e example we are emulatin g hav e alread y done . It ha s bee n show n b y on e o f them , fo r instance , tha t whe n Coleridge introduce s th e associate d image s of the Albatross , th e moon, an d th e win d int o The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, h e means t o tell us tha t th e imagination , of which th e moo n is th e symbol, ca n b e friendl y t o ma n bu t als o inimica l t o hi m whe n its claims as a source of knowledge are denied. 165 Another criti c has brought togethe r i n a similar fashion all the recurrent image s in Macbeth tha t relat e t o clothe s on the on e hand an d t o young and innocen t childre n o n th e othe r and , findin g i n thes e "th e inner symbolis m o f th e play, " ha s generalize d fro m the m a pervasive oppositio n betwee n "th e over-brittl e rationalis m o n which Macbet h found s hi s career " an d th e "irrational " force s i n life whic h Macbet h and Lad y Macbeth have lef t ou t o f account in their conspirac y to capture "th e future " for themselves. 166 Another criti c ha s applie d th e sam e method , i n a muc h mor e elaborate way , t o King Lear an d ha s show n u s ho w th e man y distinct "patterns " of imagery whic h ru n throug h tha t pla y ca n ^ be mad e t o signif y th e term s o f a complicate d dialecti c turnin g on th e way s in which ma n must, and mus t not, understan d an d assess the world of human experience if he is to attain intellectua l salvation: th e play , i n it s ultimat e assertion , w e ar e told , i s "about" this problem , i n al l it s man y ramifications, rathe r tha n about th e tragi c consequences , in a personal and merel y human sense, of Lear's initial mistake. 167

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In al l thes e instances , symboli c structur e ha s bee n derive d from a consideratio n chiefl y o f imager y an d diction , wit h th e result tha t dramas and novels are more or less completely assimilated t o lyric poems. 168 The mor e obvious structural element s of dramas an d novels , however—thei r character s an d plots—ma y also be interpreted s o as to yield meanings of the sam e sort. Thus the murde r o f Duncan , fo r on e criti c o f Macbeth, symbolize s both the intrusio n of political evi l into the divinel y ordered stat e and th e operatio n o f evi l desire s i n th e individua l soul; 169 an d another criti c o f the sam e play ha s see n i n Macbeth' s cours e of action afte r Duncan' s murder , an d especiall y i n th e killin g o f Banquo an d th e incident s o f th e feas t i n Ac t III , a parabl e o f the failure—th e inevitabl e failure—o f an y on e wh o attempt s t o restore th e "natura l order " o f societ y b y "unnatural " means. 170 And similarly , i n a recen t boo k b y a criti c wh o hold s tha t th e "symbolic content " o f Shakespeare' s play s find s "it s mos t con trolled expressio n in the characters a s people," the "ground-plan " of King Lear i s reduce d t o a schem e i n whic h Edmun d an d Goneril an d Rega n represent th e Flesh , Cordeli a th e Spirit , an d Lear himself th e Soul, which, because it occupies a middle plac e between th e extreme s of th e Spiri t an d th e Flesh , i s capabl e o f rejecting th e Spiri t bu t als o "o f bein g recalle d an d o f turnin g again."171 We need not assume that th e character s an d actions of drama an d fictio n ar e "symbolic " merely , a s i n allegor y o f th e stricter type ; w e shal l therefor e fin d i t convenien t t o mak e a distinction betwee n th e "symbolic " an d th e "realistic " i n actio n and character , an d t o recogniz e tha t bot h mode s o f treatmen t may coexis t in an y work, the mar k of the "symbolic " bein g tha t the characte r o r action , howeve r "realistically " handled , ca n b e brought int o significan t relation , no t merel y wit h th e plot , bu t also wit h th e "theme " o r "tota l meaning " we hav e attribute d t o the wor k a s a whole ; i n tha t cas e i t wil l b e prope r t o spea k of Othello, Desdemona , an d lago , fo r instance , no t a s person s simply, but , i n th e manne r o f Wilso n Knight , a s "th e Othello , Desdemona an d lag o conceptions." 172 The genera l nature of our problem shoul d b e clea r fro m thes e illustrations o f th e metho d i n practice , a s wel l a s fro m thos e I mentioned earlier ; an d i t reall y make s little difference , s o far a s 121

our essentia l procedur e i s concerned , whethe r w e see k th e crucial meaning s of poems in th e subtletie s o f thei r verba l an d imagistic expression, or in the "large r symbolisms " of their char acters and plots, or in some combination of the two. For, irrespec tive o f such distinctions , wha t w e ar e committe d to, i f w e wan t to write criticism of this kind at all, is the discovery of conceptual equivalents for the concrete relationships of elements discernible in poems—their contrasts of rhythmical movement , verbal tone , an d imagery, their opposition s o f characters, thei r conflicts o f motives and actions. We want to be able to move—to give one more example —from a perception o f the dramatic particularity o f Lear's abdication as Shakespeare renders it in Act I of the play to a recognition that thi s decisio n o f Lear' s i s somethin g mor e tha n appear s o n the surface—tha t i t reall y stand s fo r " a kin d o f refusa l o f re sponsibility, a withdrawa l fro m a necessar y involvemen t i n th e world o f action"; an d havin g found i n th e scen e this "meaning, " we want to be able to relate it to the other particular "meanings " in thi s an d late r scene s an d ultimatel y t o th e "tota l meaning " which constitute s th e structur e o f th e traged y whe n viewe d i n these terms. 173 But how is this to be done? Not, certainly, by any such immediate grasp o f meaning as give s u s th e impor t o f an y plain pros e statement , o r eve n o f an y ironica l utteranc e i n th e usual sense , i n a languag e w e know , no r ye t b y th e kin d o f quick inferenc e from generall y intelligibl e sign s tha t allow s us , when w e witnes s a dram a o r rea d a novel , t o gathe r wha t th e characters ar e eithe r doin g or intending. I t doe s no t follow , be cause Lea r abdicates , tha t h e i s refusin g responsibilit y o r dis engaging himself fro m " a necessary involvement in th e worl d of action"; it is indeed quit e clea r fro m th e tex t that neithe r h e nor anyone els e i n th e pla y eve r think s o f hi s actio n i n an y suc h abstract existentialis t terms . No r i s ther e an y natura l o r eve n conventionally constan t connectio n betwee n image s o f childre n and th e ide a o f "th e future " o r betwee n th e moo n an d th e imagination. Yet it is just such apparently arbitrar y equivalence s between poeti c particular s (whic h i n mos t poems hav e alway s been read a s such) an d genera l concept s that w e have t o asser t if w e are to pursue successfully this critica l line . Our proble m bear s thi s muc h resemblance t o th e proble m of 122

the scholarl y interpretatio n o f allegorie s lik e Everyman o r The Faerie Queene, tha t th e meaning s w e propos e t o attribut e t o poems must in some sense be better know n to us than th e poems themselves. I t differs , however , i n on e all-importan t respect , namely, tha t wherea s th e mos t convincin g interpretation s o f allegories hav e alway s started fro m a definit e bod y o f doctrina l propositions tha t ca n be show n to have bee n i n the poet' s mind when h e wrote, 174 we , wh o hav e take n al l seriou s imaginativ e literature a s ou r provinc e an d ar e concerne d beside s wit h uni versal an d poeti c rathe r tha n wit h particula r an d historica l meanings, have no such resource. Ou r proble m i s not t o explain the allegorie s i n allegorica l poems , but t o asser t somethin g aki n to allegory of all "poetic" works that seem to us to have "relevance to life." W e mus t attempt, therefore , t o find a substitut e fo r th e historically know n doctrine s whic h hav e serve d th e interpreter s of Spense r an d Dante ; an d thi s w e ca n d o onl y b y providin g ourselves wit h a se t o f reductio n terms , a s I shal l cal l them , suitable for use in all cases—with a collection, tha t is, of preferred general distinction s suc h a s wil l enabl e us , whe n w e com e t o read particular works, to formulate and unify th e complex oppositions an d resolution s o f "themes " i n which , a s embodie d con cretely i n th e pattern s o f words , images , characters , o r actions , we must suppose that thei r "tota l meanings " consist. These, alon g wit h a predispositio n t o loo k fo r symboli c rela tions everywher e an d a certai n facilit y i n seein g affinitie s an d contrasts among the verba l an d imaginativ e components of texts, will for m ou r essentia l equipment . An d the distinction s w e shal l need ar e no t particularl y har d t o com e by . Th e mos t usefu l distinctions, indeed, will be the most commonplace, in the doubl e sense o f no t bein g peculia r t o an y give n scienc e o r syste m of thought an d o f being applicable t o the larges t variety o f contexts in bot h literatur e an d life ; an d i t i s noteworth y tha t th e con temporary writer s wh o hav e give n u s ou r mos t highl y praise d models o f thi s kin d o f interpretatio n hav e invariabl y use d a s reduction term s suc h familia r an d all-embracin g dichotomie s a s life and death (o r positive values and negative values), good and evil, lov e an d hate , harmon y an d strife , orde r an d disorder , eternity an d time , realit y an d appearance , truth an d falsity , cer -

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tainty and doubt, true insight and false opinion , imagination and intellect (a s eithe r source s o f knowledg e or guide s i n action) , emotion an d reason , complexity and simplicity , natur e an d art , the natural and the supernatural, nature as benignant an d nature as malignant, man as spirit and man as beast, the needs of society and individua l desires , interna l state s an d outward acts , engage ment and withdrawal. Of such universal contraries, not restricte d in thei r applicabilit y t o an y kin d o f work, whether lyric , narra tive, o r dramatic , i t wil l b e eas y enoug h fo r u s t o acquir e a n adequate supply , an d onc e we hav e them , o r som e selection of them, in our minds as principles of interpretation, i t wil l seldom be hard t o discove r their presenc e in poem s a s organizin g principles of symbolic content. It require s n o great insight t o find an inner dialecti c o f orde r an d disorde r o r a struggl e o f goo d an d evil forces i n any serious plot; or a profound dialecti c o f appearance and reality in any plot in which the action turns on ignorance or deception an d discovery; or an intention to inculcate poeticall y "the wholeness and complexity of things, in contrast with a partial and simpl e view " (t o quot e a recen t formul a fo r Romeo and Juliet175) i n an y plo t i n whic h th e character s becom e progressively aware that their enemie s are not as bad o r their friend s a s good as they had thought. And what is true of plots and characters is true als o of language an d imagery : perhaps th e mos t striking thing abou t th e essay s o n Shakespear e o f Mr . Wilso n Knigh t is the facility with which he has been abl e to subsume the wonderfully varie d image s o f th e play s unde r hi s favourit e simpl e oppositions of "death themes" and "life themes," conflict and order, war an d love , "tempests" an d "music. " It woul d not, o f course, be fai r t o sa y that ou r tas k o f inter pretation consist s merel y i n imposin g ou r preferre d reductio n terms arbitraril y o n poems . Th e structur e o f meanin g w e ar e concerned t o exhibi t i s on e tha t w e mus t suppos e to b e objec tively in the poem by virtue of the poet's ac t of expression. It wil l be there , however , only indirectly, a s what is symbolized by th e totality o f particula r relationship s an d "tensions " observabl e i n all th e part s o f the poe m an d o n al l th e levels—fro m metaphor s to plo t o r centra l image—o n whic h meanin g ca n b e found ; an d in th e bes t poem s i t wil l b e identica l wit h th e on e "theme " o r

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"pattern o f resolve d stresses " whic h appear s t o harmoniz e most completely th e man y othe r "themes " o r opposition s of value s of which th e poe m consists . Al l o f these , moreover , wil l b e am biguous, i n th e sens e that the y ar e embodie d i n symbol s which permit, both in themselves and in correlation with other symbols, of a wide range of variant interpretations—at any rate when -they are viewed as we have chosen to view them. Our problem, there fore, wil l b e dual : t o mak e sense , i n th e fashio n alread y de scribed, o f al l th e particular s o f th e poem—t o say , fo r instance , what, ou t o f variou s possibilities , Cordeli a stand s for , o r whic h of severa l possible meanings we ough t to ascrib e t o th e contras t of th e su n an d moo n i n The Rime of the Ancient Mariner—and , above all , t o fi x upo n th e on e equall y ambiguou s opposition, among th e man y evident i n th e imager y or event s o f th e work , which w e ar e t o regar d a s th e "carrier " of th e centra l meaning. The proble m in both o f its aspect s is clearly insoluble unles s we bring t o i t mind s alread y prepare d t o loo k fo r on e orde r o f central meanin g i n th e work s w e examin e rathe r tha n an y o f many othe r possibl e orders ; an d tha t thi s i s precisel y wha t th e critics whos e procedur e w e ar e followin g hav e i n fac t don e i s shown b y th e numerou s incompatible semanti c structure s the y have attributed , fo r example , to play s like Macbeth or t o lyric s like the "Ode o n a Grecian Urn." They ar e al l selective interpre tations, an d th e selectio n i s governe d i n eac h case , thoug h no t always crudely , b y th e favourit e reductio n term s th e criti c ha s been abl e t o fin d exemplifie d i n th e poem . We shall have to be content, then, with a method of which th e essentially rhetorica l characte r i s perhap s eviden t fro m what I have said. For th e principle s w e must employ are no t principle s of poetry a s such, and stil l less of any of its kinds; they are rather "topics" or "commonplaces" in the technica l sens e of the ancient , medieval, an d Renaissanc e writer s o n rhetoric—tha t i s t o say , convenient genera l distinction s o r head s o f interpretatio n tha t can be mad e to fit without too much difficult y almos t any poem we have in hand, a s the orato r ca n us e th e topoi o f honour an d dishonour, prais e an d blame , t o suppl y himsel f wit h predicate s which h e wil l the n attemp t t o mak e hi s hearer s thin k ar e ap propriate t o a give n man . Or i f the y ar e no t merel y that , the y

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will be a t bes t the contrarie s o f a dialecti c whic h i s of our own making and t o which we are bent o n assimilating the poeticall y expressed though t o r "vision " o f th e writer s w e ar e tryin g t o interpret. In eithe r case we shall be engage d i n imputing to our writer s a structur e of meanings that i s very different fro m th e apparen t or (a s w e wil l prefe r t o say ) superficia l structures o f an y o f their poems ; a structure , besides , tha t ha s hithert o escape d th e notice of readers an d critics—o r ther e woul d be n o poin t i n ou r discovering i t now . We canno t expect, therefore , tha t wha t w e say wil l a t onc e command assent without a goo d dea l o f extracritical, an d henc e rhetorical , assistanc e o n ou r part . O f th e various line s o f persuasio n ope n t o us , I shal l mentio n onl y a few o f those which have been most commonly used by critic s of this school. It ca n be urge d tha t the interpretatio n w e are pro posing fo r (say ) Macbeth, though likel y t o see m radically dis turbing t o traditiona l notions , doe s i n fac t succeed , a s Ro y Walker say s o f hi s peculiarl y ingeniou s interpretatio n o f tha t play, i n "illuminatin g th e pla y i n it s entirety, " tha t is , i n sub suming al l the detail s under th e constructio n we have put upo n them.176 An d thi s wil l hav e considerabl e forc e s o lon g a s ou r readers fai l t o observ e tha t th e kin d o f constructio n place d o n the details has already been determined, as in Mr. Walker's book, by th e hypothesi s whic h th e detail s ar e sai d t o support , o r s o long as they do not compar e our account, as a scholar might do, point b y poin t wit h alternativ e account s b y othe r critic s tha t make simila r claim s t o interna l coherenc e an d adequacy , an d especially s o lon g a s they , o r we , avoi d bringin g int o th e dis cussion th e subversiv e principl e o f Occam' s razor . O r w e ma y concede tha t othe r formula e than ou r ow n have perhap s equa l validity in thei r ow n terms, and the n defen d the validit y o f our own formula , a s Mr . J . I . M . Stewar t defend s hi s versio n o f Prince Hal' s brea k with Falstaff , b y insistin g that o n the deepe r level poems may have multiple meanings , so that an y plausibl e interpretation i s correct.177 Or, again , we may appeal t o history: either i n defenc e o f a particula r interpretation , a s whe n Mr . Duthie supports his contention that the theme of Order and Dis order is a central organizing principle i n most of Shakespeare by 126

pointing t o th e ver y frequen t occurrenc e o f thi s antithesi s i n Elizabethan non-dramati c writing; 178 o r els e i n defenc e o f th e method o f interpretatio n itself , a s whe n Mr . Danby , presentin g us wit h a highl y allegorize d King Lear, proceed s t o urg e th e plausibility o f this by remindin g us that Shakespear e was a con temporary o f Spense r an d "stand s close r tha n w e do " t o th e morality plays and to the mental habits an d the artisti c attitude s of th e Middl e Ages , when "allegory-huntin g wa s a s excitin g a s motive-hunting i s fo r us." 179 Ther e i s o f cours e a n unfortunat e non sequitur i n both o f these historica l arguments ; and onc e we perceive this , w e ma y wel l prefe r t o fal l back , a s man y critic s of thi s school have done, on still another topic o f persuasion, an d one excellentl y calculate d t o pu t bot h logi c an d histor y ou t of court. W e ca n simpl y appea l t o th e doctrine—whic h ha s bee n explicitly stated , amon g others , b y Wilso n Knigh t an d Harol d Goddard180—that i n poeti c interpretatio n th e ultimat e authorit y is not historical fac t o r ordinary inference bu t th e imaginatio n or intuition o f th e criti c himself , whe n h e submit s himsel f "wit h utmost passivit y t o th e poet' s work " undisturbe d b y analytica l reason o r historical method. 181 I t i s a trul y powerfu l device , fo r of critical statement s thus guaranteed th e onl y possible refutation is one that convict s the objecto r in advanc e either o f lacking th e necessary spiritua l equipmen t fo r readin g poetr y o r o f bein g misled b y irrelevan t intellectualism . An d lastly , i f thi s i s no t sufficient, ther e i s alway s availabl e t o u s th e admirabl e topi c which th e olde r rhetorician s calle d "amplification. " W e ca n attempt t o writ e s o glowingly abou t th e symboli c structures w e find in poems that an y literal-minded o r sceptical reade r wil l b e made a t leas t temporaril y ashame d o f his doubt s (thi s i s one of the grea t resource s o f Wilson Knight) ; or , shor t o f this , w e ca n advance our more difficult o r novel points in sentences beginnin g with such phrases as "It is clear that" or "It i s obvious that," etc. , or, havin g state d a particularl y darin g interpretation , w e ca n insist o n its obviousnes s i n th e manne r exemplifie d i n Mr . God dard's extremel y origina l page s o n th e allegor y i n Cymbeline: "Does no t th e paraboli c qualit y of all this," he asks , "fairly shou t aloud and demand that we think of Imogen as the Tru e Englan d wedded secretl y t o th e poo r bu t genuinel y gentl e Posthumu s 127

Leonatus, Englis h Manhoo d and Valor? . . . Th e moment we take th e leadin g character s o f the pla y i n thi s way , numberless details rus h fort h t o fi t int o wha t w e ca n scarcel y hel p callin g the allegorical design/'182 These, then , ar e th e possibilitie s ope n t o us , an d th e limit s within whic h w e mus t work , i f w e tak e th e firs t o f th e tw o approaches to poetry as semantic structure: an approach in which we will tend to view poetry in all its varieties a s a kind of dramatized dialectic , a for m o f discourse that use s "poetic" devices of imagery, metaphor , symbol , parable, an d allegor y a s mean s of stating o r resolvin g problems , explorin g o r bringin g unit y int o large an d complicate d area s o f experience , adjustin g competin g values, o r reducin g th e chao s o f lif e t o a unifie d imaginativ e vision—and al l this o n the initia l assumptio n that th e significan t patterns o f meaning to be sough t in poems, general as these wil l be in our statement o f them, are patterns whic h poets themselve s have constructed and which therefore have no existence or value apart from the "poetry" in which they inhere. Ill

Our initia l assumption , if we prefe r t o tak e th e secon d of th e two contemporary approaches, will be almos t the revers e of this. We shal l ten d t o loo k upon th e kin d o f "structura l analysis " of poems in restricted poeti c or rhetorical term s which I hav e been describing, a s merely a first stage i n criticism , beyond which , if we are to do justice to the profounde r significance s o f poems, we must move on to a consideration of the extra-persona l and extra poetic source s of poetic theme s an d pattern s i n th e large r symbolic activitie s o f th e poet' s cultur e o r o f th e huma n rac e i n general. "Mob y Dick, " i t ha s bee n sai d b y on e o f th e leadin g critics i n thi s secon d school , "canno t remai n withi n Melville' s novel: h e i s bound t o b e incorporate d int o ou r tota l verba l experience o f leviathan s an d dragon s o f th e dee p fro m th e Ol d Testament onward"; 183 an d i t i s equall y true, fo r an y poet, tha t he mus t work wit h material s o f imagery , character , an d actio n and employ schemes of construction that are, to a lesser or greater extent, not o f his invention, but ar e given to him, already forme d 128

and charge d wit h independen t meaning s and emotiona l associ ations, i n th e pas t experienc e o f mankind. Ou r primar y interes t will b e i n suc h antecedent s o r substrate s o f poetr y o r o f ou r responses to poetry. We shall consider them, however, not merely as antecedent s o r substrate s i n a historica l sens e bu t a s present and livin g elements—mor e importan t ultimatel y tha n anythin g the poe t himself ca n contriv e b y hi s art—i n th e "tota l mekning " of an y grea t poem . I n ou r stud y o f the m w e shal l mak e use of what philologist s an d literar y historian s hav e learne d o r con jectured abou t th e "source s an d analogues " o f poetic works an d about th e origin s o f poeti c forms ; bu t w e shal l b e muc h mor e interested i n th e newe r science s o f cultura l anthropolog y an d psychoanalysis than in literary scholarship in the usual sense; and among scholars , w e shal l prefe r thos e who , lik e Gilber t Murra y and F . M . Cornford, have gone in for explanations of poetry tha t can be assimilated , withou t to o grea t trouble , t o th e findings of Frazer, Freud, and Jung. We shall use these scholarly authorities , moreover, not for the sak e of reconstructing the probabl e genesi s of poem s or poetic form s i n literal terms , but wit h a view to th e discovery, in poems, of the "real " structures an d "deeper " meanings that derive fro m th e reflectio n i n poetr y o f pre-existing an d more genera l way s of orderin g huma n experienc e symbolically , in particula r thos e way s whic h hav e bee n disclose d t o u s i n modern studie s o f primitiv e myth s an d ritual s an d o f th e un conscious operation s o f th e soul . Ou r distinctiv e subject-matter , that is to say , will be th e participatio n o f poems, through eithe r their writer s o r the response s o f their readers , i n th e underlyin g and basi c form s o f huma n though t an d meaningfu l action ; an d our metho d wil l b e typicall y a n argumen t to poems , considere d as composite s o f bot h individua l an d collectiv e meanings , from what it has been fashionable to call, especially since the publica tion of Maud Bodkin's book in 1934 , thei r "archetypa l patterns" — a term that has sometimes been take n in the psychological sense, borrowed b y her fro m Jung , of "that within u s which, i n Gilber t Murray's phrase , leap s i n respons e t o th e effectiv e presentatio n in poetr y o f an ancien t theme, " bu t mor e ofte n i n th e objectiv e sense o f th e ancien t them e o r patter n itself , t o whic h ou r "archetypal" emotions correspond.184 129

What w e ma y hope t o accomplis h b y takin g thi s critica l lin e can agai n b e inferre d fro m wha t ou r contemporarie s have bee n able t o do . W e ma y confin e ourselves , i f w e choose , t o thos e archetypes o f poems to whic h w e ca n giv e a mor e o r les s par ticularized historica l statu s a s th e underlyin g forms , wit h thei r characteristic emotional associations, of a given period o f culture. One such form has been discovered, fo r th e Englis h Renaissance , in the patter n o f content common to the full-scal e morality plays of th e sixteent h century : thes e ca n al l b e reduced , i t ha s bee n observed, t o the imag e of a central figure , symboli c of humanity and henc e "bor n wit h a n ultimatel y irresistibl e compulsio n t o sin," who is tempted by Satan or his emissaries "to leave the pat h of righteousnes s an d follo w a cours e or caree r o f wickednes s a t the en d o f which he i s convicted of sin an d become s a manifest candidate fo r damnation/' whereupon he i s saved "by th e inter cession o f Christ, th e Blesse d Virgin Mary, or som e kindly sain t and i s take n withou t meri t o f hi s ow n int o the boso m of God. " Here, in this lowest common denominator of many morality plots, is clearl y a patter n o f profoun d cultura l significance ; and i t re quires but a simple step in "archetypal" criticism , as Mr. Hardin Craig has recently shown, to discover the same pattern, "amplified but no t changed, " wit h it s religiou s implication s stil l operative , in th e basi c actio n o f Macbeth, whic h ca n likewis e be reduced , if onl y we disregard enoug h of the plo t Shakespear e constructed , to "th e aberratio n o f a hero , unde r delusio n o f th e power s of evil," who pursues "a career o f crime and wickedness , violent t o the las t degre e . . . unti l suc h tim e a s his cours e o f evi l [is ] arrested," i n fulfilmen t o f ou r fait h an d Shakespeare's , "b y out raged ma n actin g a s th e punitiv e agen t o f God." 185 Bot h th e historical archetyp e an d the poetry, however, may be generalize d much farthe r than this , t o yiel d suc h insight s a s Wilso n Knight gives us at th e en d o f his essay on "Myth and Miracle" : For wha t [h e asks ] i s th e sequenc e o f th e Divina Commedia, L'Inferno, II Purgatorio, II Paradiso, but anothe r manifestation , i n th e spatialized form s o f medieval eschatology , o f the essentia l qualitie s of the thre e group s o f th e greate r play s o f Shakespeare , th e Problems , Tragedies an d Myths ? And what ar e bot h bu t reflection s in th e wor k of th e tw o greates t mind s o f moder n Europe—childre n respectivel y

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of th e Middl e Age s an d th e Renaissance—o f tha t mysti c trut h fro m which ar e bor n th e dogma s o f th e Catholi c Church—th e incarnatio n in actualit y o f th e Divin e Logo s o f Poetry : th e temptatio n i n th e desert, th e tragi c ministr y an d death , an d th e resurrectio n o f th e Christ? We should centre our attention always not on the poeti c form s alone, whic h ar e thing s o f tim e an d history , bu t o n th e spiri t whic h burns throug h the m an d i s eterna l i n it s rnyth m o f pain, endurance , and joy.186

But w e need no t sto p wit h suc h relatively limite d correspon dences, and indeed ther e seems to be a kind of inner necessity in the dialecti c o f thi s criticis m t o pus h th e ques t fo r archetype s farther an d farthe r back into the evolutionar y antecedents o f the poetic structures and themes with which it is concerned. Beyond history, o r rathe r th e schematize d histor y o f th e cultura l his torians, lies the now equally schematized simpler age of primitive ritual an d myth , the unit y of which lie s ultimately—a s w e hav e learned fro m Fraze r an d others—i n man' s firs t response s t o th e succession o f th e seasons , th e rhyth m o f th e earth' s dyin g an d reviving fertility , th e cycl e o f youth , maturity , an d decay , th e obligation t o prepar e ne w generation s fo r th e collectiv e lif e o f the tribe . I t i s inevitabl e tha t w e shoul d see k i n thi s worl d of social origin s fo r th e tru e prototype s an d "real " significance s of the ancien t theme s and formula e o f construction that stil l deter mine, o r shoul d determine , wha t moder n poet s d o whe n the y succeed in affecting moder n readers most deeply—and be guided , perhaps, i n our search, by the Platonic fait h expresse d i n Robert Graves's "To Juan at the Winter Solstice": There is one story and one story only That will prove worth your telling, Whether as learned bard or gifted child ; To it all lines or lesser gauds belong That startle with their shining Such common stories as they stray into.... Much snow is falling, winds roar hollowly, The owl hoots from th e elder, Fear in your heart cries to the loving-cup: Sorrow to sorrow as the sparks fly upward. The log groans and confesses There is one story and one story only.187

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How rewarding the quest can be has been demonstrated agai n and agai n i n th e criticis m o f recen t years . W e ma y no w know, thanks t o th e pionee r wor k o f Mr . Coli n Still , ho w wron g w e were to think of The Tempest as a mere product of Shakespeare's imagination. I t i s n o suc h thing , bu t rathe r a deliberatel y alle gorical statemen t o f th e universa l them e whic h appear s mos t clearly i n th e earl y Gree k mysterie s o f th e Lesse r an d Greate r Initiation—the double theme of purgation fro m si n and o f rebirt h and upwar d spiritua l movemen t after sorro w and death. 188 W e can lear n similarl y fro m Mr . Franci s Fergusso n t o loo k upo n Sophocles' Oedipus Rex n o longe r a s a tragi c imitatio n i n Aristotle's sense but rathe r a s "both myth and ritual," a dramatic re production, fo r a n audienc e tha t stil l retaine d obscur e feeling s of "ritua l expectancy, " o f th e ancien t rit e o f th e spring-go d a s constructed b y Jan e Harriso n and Gilber t Murray , the figure of Oedipus himself fulfilling "al l th e requirement s of the scapegoat , the dismembere d king or god-figure" of the olde r religion. 189 We can perhap s b e persuaded , too , b y Mr . J. I . M . Stewart, t o se e in the rejection of Falstaff b y Prince Hal on e of "the simple r roles of archetypa l drama. " Fo r anthropologists , h e says , are alway s tellin g u s o f countrie s gon e wast e an d barre n unde r th e rule o f a n old , impoten t an d guilt y king , wh o mus t b e rituall y slai n and supplanted by his son or another befor e the savin g rains can come bringing purificatio n an d regeneratio n t o th e land . I s no t Henr y I V in precisely th e situation o f this king ? . . . Perhaps , then , w e glimpse here a furthe r reaso n wh y th e rejectio n o f Falstaf f i s inevitable—no t merely traditionall y an d moralisticall y inevitabl e bu t symbolicall y in evitable as well. . .. I sugges t tha t Hal , b y a displacement common enough i n th e evolutio n o f ritual , kill s Falstaf f instea d o f killin g th e king, his father. I n a sens e FalstaflF is his father; certainl y i s a 'father substitute' in the psychologist's word. . . . An d Falstaff, in standing for the ol d king, symbolise s all th e accumulate d si n o f th e reign , al l th e consequent sterilit y o f th e land . Bu t th e youn g king draw s hi s knif e at th e altar—an d th e hear t o f that gre y iniquity, that fathe r ruffian , i s as fracted an d corroborate as Pistol avers. FalstafFs rejectio n and deat h are very sad , bu t Si r James Frazer woul d hav e classe d the m wit h th e Periodic Expulsio n o f Evil s i n a Materia l Vehicle , an d discerne d be neath th e ski n of Shakespeare' s audienc e tru e brother s o f th e peopl e of Leti, Moa, and Lakor. 190

This doubtles s owe s somethin g t o th e imaginativ e power s o f 132

"Michael Innes," but no t to o much, as we can se e when we turn to th e man y other book s and essay s in which critic s o f the sam e school have shown us, for example, that Heyst in Conrad's Victory figures a t th e en d o f th e stor y a s " a sacrificia l god-king, " hi s committing himsel f t o th e flame s bein g " a for m o f purificatio n and expiatio n ritua l . . . patterned afte r th e killin g o f the godking in primitive tribal ceremonies"; 191 that Lycidas i s not abou t Edward Kin g but "abou t hi s archetype , Adonis , the dyin g an d rising god , called Lycida s i n Milton' s poem"; 192 tha t Opheli a i s a "Fertilit y ghost"—"th e little Spring-ghost , th e fertilit y daemon , the vegetation spirit/' 193 But eve n thi s i s onl y a half-wa y statio n o n th e roa d t o th e ultimate archetype—th e Platoni c On e i n reverse , s o t o speak — toward whic h thi s criticis m ineluctabl y moves . Belo w th e communal worl d o f myt h an d ritua l i s th e stil l mor e primitiv e an d hence meaningfu l world o f the individua l psyche ; an d i t to o is a world o f simple patterns , constantl y repeate d i n th e subrationa l experience of all men in ever y age, in the ligh t o f which w e may expect t o mak e deeper sens e ou t o f the mor e complicated struc tures o f developed art . Our model s her e ar e many , though the y naturally diffe r i n for m accordin g t o th e particula r schoo l o f psychology fro m whic h the y dra w thei r hypothese s an d terms . What critic s hav e borrowe d fro m Freu d i s chiefly , perhaps , a new technique , o r rathe r terminology , for uncoverin g th e subsurface probabilities an d necessities in poetic actions ; as when Dr . Ernest Jones, and after hi m many literary amateur s in psychiatry , reduce th e tragi c motivatio n o f Hamle t t o th e formul a o f th e Oedipus complex ; o r a s whe n Mr . Stewart , assumin g tha t th e poetic dram a is necessarily concerned wit h unconscious volitions, argues fro m th e authorit y o f Freu d t o th e presenc e o f bot h "projected" an d "delusional" jealous y in the behaviou r o f Leontes in Ac t I o f The Winter's Tale: Shakespeare , h e tell s us , i s her e "penetrating t o nature, and once more giving his fable something of th e demoni c quality o f myth or folk-story, which i s commonly nearer t o the radica l working s of the huma n mind than ar e later and rationalise d version s of the sam e material."194 The hypothese s o f Jung , o n th e othe r hand , hav e len t them selves characteristically t o the identification of fundamental struc133

tural patterns , commo n t o dream , myth , ritual , fair y tale , an d poetry, whic h ar e bu t th e objectiv e counterpart s o r symbols , differing materiall y bu t no t structurall y i n differen t cultures , of universal tendencie s i n th e huma n psyche, an d deriv e fro m thi s their persistent power to stir our emotions. Jung himself has given us a number of models of the procedure , as , for example , in hi s discussion o f how th e principl e o f progression an d regressio n i s symbolized i n th e myt h of the whale-dragon : The hero is the symbolica l representative o f the libid o movement . The entrance int o th e drago n i s th e regressiv e course , whil e th e journe y towards th e eas t (th e night journe y under the sea ) wit h it s attendan t events symbolize s th e effor t toward s adaptatio n t o th e condition s of the psychi c inne r world . Th e complete swallowin g u p an d disappear ance o f th e her o i n th e bell y o f th e drago n represent s th e complet e withdrawal o f interes t fro m th e oute r world . Th e overcomin g o f th e monster from withi n is the achievemen t o f adaptation t o the condition s of th e inne r world ; an d finally , th e escap e wit h th e hel p o f a bir d from th e monster' s body, which happens a t th e momen t of sunrise, is the renewa l o f progression. I t i s characteristi c tha t whil e th e her o i s within it s belly th e monste r begins th e nigh t se a journey towards th e east, tha t i s to say , towards th e sunrise . This seem s to m e to poin t t o the fac t tha t the regressio n i s not necessaril y a backwar d ste p i n th e sense o f involution o r degeneration , bu t rathe r represent s a necessar y phase i n development . Th e individua l has , however , n o awarenes s of this development ; h e feel s himsel f t o be i n a stat e o f compulsion tha t resembles a n earl y infantil e state , o r eve n a n embryoni c conditio n within th e womb . If he lingers on in this condition , the n onl y can we speak of involution or degeneration.195

How widely applicable suc h a formula i s to the interpretatio n of artistic literatur e ha s bee n show n wit h specia l clarit y b y Mis s Bodkin, in the man y illustrations o f psychic patterns, in writings ranging from Home r to D. H. Lawrence, which she has collecte d in he r Archetypal Patterns in Poetry. Th e "tragi c pattern, " th e "rebirth archetype, " th e "archetyp e o f Paradise-Hades, " th e "image o f woman," the "image s o f th e Devil , th e Hero , an d o f God": al l thes e ar e finall y reducible , sh e argues , t o th e basi c Jungian motions of "progression an d regression," "frustration an d transcendence."196 I t i s partl y a t leas t fro m Mis s Bodkin , an d hence ultimatel y fro m Jung , tha t Professo r Tillyar d ha s draw n 134

the conceptio n o f traged y a s a patter n o f "destructio n followe d by regeneration"—i n short , a s the "rebirt h archetype"—whic h h e employs i n hi s boo k o n Shakespeare's Last Plays i n orde r t o demonstrate th e underlyin g structura l unit y o f Cymbeline, The Winters Tale, and The Tempest, an d t o exhibit this unity a s th e necessary completio n o f a them e t o whic h Shakespear e ha d already committe d himsel f i n Richard II , Henry IV , an d Henry V.197 From thes e example s of the possibilitie s ope n t o u s i n "arche typal" criticism , w e ma y gathe r som e ide a o f th e natur e o f th e results t o whic h suc h criticis m lead s an d o f th e equipmen t w e must hav e i f w e ar e t o practis e i t successfully . Ou r en d i s ac complished, a t al l three o f the level s I hav e distinguished , whe n we have established th e presenc e i n poems of patterns o f action , character, an d imager y concernin g whic h w e ca n sa y that the y are patterns originating not in the artistic purposes and inventions of th e poet s bu t i n anteceden t histor y or prehistory o r in human nature itself, our assumption being that the profounder meanings of poem s ar e a functio n alway s o f th e origina l meaning s of th e archetypes whic h the y embody . W e have , consequently , tw o problems: t o discove r th e archetype s an d t o sho w tha t the y ar e in the poems. And the first problem should cause us little trouble, at leas t i f w e ma y judg e from wha t mos t o f th e practitioner s o f the method have done. We have only to be well read in the more authoritative, o r celebrated, book s in which th e basi c patterns of cultural history, of prehistoric myth and ritual , an d o f the opera tions o f the unconsciou s have alread y bee n reduce d t o plausible and usable statement: ou r necessary and sufficien t guide s will b e Freud an d Jung , Fraze r an d Malinowski , Jane Harrison , F . M . Cornford, an d Gilber t Murray , to mentio n th e name s that recu r most ofte n i n th e footnote s o f critic s belongin g t o thi s school . From suc h authorities—o r fro m som e particula r selectio n o r combination of them—we can get all the data we need by methods of readin g whic h presuppos e n o specialize d expertnes s i n th e sciences the y treat . I t wil l b e better , indeed , i f w e ourselve s are no t technicall y traine d i n thes e subjects ; els e w e migh t b e led t o wonde r sometime s how w e ca n perfor m a vali d psycho analysis o f a patient wit h whom , because h e i s dead, w e canno t

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talk; o r w e migh t discover , t o ou r embarrassment , tha t ther e perhaps neve r was in Greece any such elaborate religiou s rit e a s that fro m whic h Gilber t Murray , relying o n th e speculation s o f Miss Harrison, deduce d th e six ritual parts of Greek tragedy;198 or we might eve n com e to suspect tha t wha t Si r James Frazer tell s us abou t primitiv e custom s an d myth s i s possibl y determine d quite a s muc h b y th e distinctiv e conceptua l framewor k an d method o f The Golden Bough a s b y th e masse s of information which tha t grea t boo k sought to interpret. I t i s true a t an y rate that ther e ar e fe w critic s o f th e "archetypal " schoo l wh o hav e felt th e nee d o f mor e tha n a second-han d knowledg e o f th e history, anthropology, or psychology upon which they have base d their interpretation s o f poems. Our secon d problem is also easy enough to solve , provided w e are clear as to just what we are trying to do. We want to be abl e to persuade ou r readers , fo r example, that "th e for m an d mean ing" of Oedipus Rex is that of the much older winter-spring ritual ; or that the conflic t between Antigon e and Creo n in the Antigone represents th e resistanc e o f th e olde r matriarcha l principl e o f society t o th e newe r patriarcha l principle; 199 o r tha t Aha b i n Moby Dick is , amon g many othe r things , "th e shaman, tha t is , the religiou s leade r (commo n amon g certain tribe s o f American Indians) wh o cuts himself off from societ y to undergo his privat e ordeal, throug h whic h h e attain s som e o f th e knowledg e an d power of the gods"; 200 or that in the development o f Shakespeare's Prince Ha l w e ca n se e "th e classi c struggl e o f th e eg o t o com e to norma l adjustment , beginning wit h th e rebellio n agains t th e father, goin g on to the conques t of the super-eg o (Hotspur , with his rigi d notion s o f honor an d glory) , the n t o th e conquest s of the id (Falstaff , wit h hi s anarchi c self-indulgence) , the n t o th e identification with the father (th e crown scene) an d the assumption o f mature responsibility"; 201 or, again, that the imager y an d action o f The Rime of the Ancient Mariner symbolize s the two fold movemen t o f th e soul , firs t "towar d severe d relatio n wit h the outer world, and . . . toward disintegratio n an d death," then , "in a n expansio n or outburs t o f activity, " upwar d an d outwar d "toward redintegratio n an d life-renewal." 202 An d ou r argument s in al l suc h case s wil l tur n o n a n identification , i n th e concret e 136

materials an d sequence s o f th e poems , o f whateve r subpoeti c patterns ou r preferre d commonplace s and source s of interpreta tion, a s applied t o the detail s o f the poems , encourage u s to find there. Bu t onc e we have mad e thi s identification , wha t wil l th e resulting proposition s mean , and wha t wil l be th e guarantee s of their truth ? I thin k it is clear, t o begin with , that the y are not proposition s of th e sam e order , o r susceptibl e o f th e sam e kind o f proof , a s the commo n assertion s o f literar y scholar s tha t such-and-suc h poems derive d thei r material s o r thei r structura l pattern s fro m such-and-such earlie r sources . The y ar e no t th e kin d o f state ments, either , tha t w e have t o mak e when w e attemp t t o relat e the Prophetic Books o f Willia m Blak e o r th e opera s o f Richar d Wagner or the poems of William Butler Yeats to the myths which these composition s wer e clearl y designe d t o embody . No r ar e they statement s o f the sor t that ca n be made , quite legitimately , about certai n moder n poems, such as The Waste Land, in which ritual or mythic elements are deliberately use d as artistic device s for objectifyin g o r universalizin g lyri c thought . Al l suc h state ments presuppose relationship s o f caus e an d effect , an d depen d for thei r probability , i n an y give n case , upo n litera l historica l evidence. Now there can be little doubt, I think, that "archetypal" criticism doe s i n fac t res t o n th e assumptio n o f som e kin d o f genetic relation, however remote or hard to trace, between poetry and whateve r antecedent s th e criti c take s a s th e sourc e o f hi s archetypes. I t i s difficult, indeed , t o se e how this criticis m coul d have arisen without such causal hypotheses as that of the mythical or ritualisti c origi n o f poetr y o r th e Jungian notio n o f racia l memory. These , however , hav e usuall y bee n take n merel y a s validating principle s fo r th e metho d i n genera l rathe r tha n a s premises t o b e invoke d i n suppor t o f particula r interpretations ; and Professo r Fry e i s correctl y describin g th e commo n practic e of th e schoo l when h e remark s that th e criti c "doe s no t nee d t o establish a soli d historica l traditio n al l the wa y fro m prehistori c fertility rite s t o th e natur e myt h i n th e Winters Tale, o r tak e sides i n th e quarre l o f Classica l scholar s ove r th e ritua l origi n of Greek drama: he is concerned only with the ritual and mythical patterns whic h ar e actuall y i n th e plays , howeve r the y go t 137

there."203 This seem s to me, moreover, to be a thoroughly soun d position; fo r it doe s not commi t us to arguin g the presenc e o f a nature myth in The Winters Tale o r a ritualistic form an d meaning in Oedipus o n the literal ground that they ar e there becaus e these work s are product s of a tradition tha t began i n ritua l an d myth. That would indeed be an instance of the grossest of fallacies in history and criticism , the suppositio n tha t th e for m o r impor t of an y develope d thin g ca n b e inferre d fro m it s matte r o r evolutionary substrate—tha t sinc e th e adul t ma n wa s onc e a n embryo, hi s distinctiv e natur e a s a n adul t ca n b e sufficientl y explained i n term s of the scienc e o f embryology. 204 But what , then , ar e w e sayin g whe n w e assert , fo r instance , that th e deat h o f Heys t "is a for m o f purification and expiatio n ritual"? I think the answe r is now evident: w e are sayin g simply that whe n we apply t o this inciden t i n Conrad's novel the se t of terms which Si r James Frazer o r anothe r ha s used t o defin e th e structure an d meanin g o f th e ritua l i n question , a strikin g re semblance betwee n th e tw o pattern s emerges , especiall y i f w e are carefu l t o atten d t o onl y th e mos t genera l outlin e o f th e incident a s Conra d present s it . W e ar e stating , i n short , no t a relationship o f effec t t o cause , bu t o f lik e t o like—tha t is , o f analogy merely ; ou r propositio n i s a kin d o f proportional meta phor i n which , becaus e o f th e parit y o f relation s w e perceiv e between the part s of the inciden t i n Victory an d th e part s o f th e ritual, w e transfer t o th e inciden t th e words , and thei r connota tions, whic h anthropologist s have employe d t o stat e th e signifi cance of the ritual , thus conferring at onc e upon Heyst's ac t th e quality o f something religious and ancient , somethin g more profound an d huma n tha n an y moder n novelist , howeve r great , could be expected to invent. That is all we shall really be saying , I a m convinced , i n an y instanc e o f "archetypal " interpretation , so tha t i n a ver y genuin e sense , i n thi s approach , no t onl y literature bu t criticis m itself ca n be sai d to be "ultimatel y meta phorical an d symbolic. " An d ther e ar e grea t advantage s i n s o conceiving it ; fo r we shal l the n no t nee d t o worr y either abou t the conflictin g interpretation s whic h differen t critic s o f thi s school hav e place d upo n th e sam e works—inasmuc h a s a n in definite numbe r o f significan t analogie s i s alway s possibl e fo r

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the sam e thing—o r abou t th e proble m o f inventin g argument s to support ou r particular findings. The patterns w e are concerne d with ar e actuall y in th e poem s (o n th e assumption s o f ou r method) i f the y ca n b e see n there ; an d the y wil l b e seen , an d thought important indices of latent meanings , by all such readers , at least , a s have bee n conditione d b y temperamen t o r th e con tagion o f current literar y though t t o loo k upon poetr y a s neces sarily an imitation o r reflection, in its greates t moments , of those deeper huma n realitie s tha t hav e bee n disclose d t o u s mos t clearly, afte r lon g neglect , b y th e psychologist s an d cultura l anthropologists o f the earl y twentiet h century . These, then , ar e th e principa l way s in whic h th e structur e of poetic work s has bee n define d an d investigate d b y thos e critic s of ou r tim e for whom the questio n o f the structur e o f poetry ha s been th e centra l proble m o f criticism . Whateve r w e ma y thin k of th e result s w e ar e abl e t o achiev e i n practica l criticis m b y using the method s o f these critics , the result s ar e inevitabl y conditioned by , an d henc e ar e relativ e to , th e basi c conceptua l language that has been developed i n recent years out of the very old tradition o f criticism i n which poetry is thought o f as a mode of discours e an d i n whic h theorie s o f poetry , o f a necessaril y "abstract" sort, have been derive d b y a dialectic o f negative an d positive analogies from a consideration of the nature of discourse in its non-poetic varieties. It is less important, therefore, for our purposes, to dwell on the individual successes and failures of these contemporaries tha n t o rais e th e questio n o f th e genera l adequac y of th e critica l languag e the y hav e employe d fo r th e stud y o f poetic structure s i n compariso n wit h th e on e majo r alternativ e to thi s languag e which th e histor y o f criticis m ha s s o far give n us bu t whic h ha s a s ye t bee n littl e use d i n th e analysi s an d criticism o f particula r works . An d t o tha t I shal l tur n i n th e concluding lecture.

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Toward a more adequate criticism of poetic structure WE CA N J U D G E o f th e adequac y o f an y procedur e i n prac tical criticism onl y by considering th e concept s an d th e method s of reasonin g whic h i t presuppose s an d askin g ourselve s wha t important aspects , i f any , of th e object s w e ar e examinin g the y force us to leave out of account. And when this test is applied no t merely to the tw o contemporary schools of criticism discusse d i n the last lecture but t o the long tradition o f critical languag e fro m which the y hav e emerged , i t become s apparent , I think , tha t there are nowhere present in this tradition an y means for dealin g precisely an d particularl y wit h wha t I shal l cal l th e formin g principle o r immediat e shapin g caus e o f structur e i n individua l poems. The principle I speak of is one that operate s in much the same way i n al l the arts ; an d ther e i s nothing mysteriou s abou t it nothing whic h an y one who has eve r writte n anything , however unpoetic, cannot verify fo r himsel f b y reflectin g a little upon his own experience . Th e proces s o f literar y compositio n ha s ofte n been rathe r crudel y divided , especiall y b y author s o f textbook s on English writing , int o tw o stages: a stage o f preparatory read ing, thinking , planning , incubation , an d a stag e o f puttin g th e materials thu s assemble d int o words ; an d wha t happen s i n th e second stage has usually been represented a s a direct transference to paper o f the idea s o r imaginations which the write r ha s com e 140

into possession o f in th e firs t stage—a s a simpl e matter, tha t is , of givin g to a n acquire d conten t a n appropriat e verba l form . I have mysel f taugh t thi s eas y doctrin e t o students ; bu t never , I believe, since I began to meditate on the disturbing fact tha t all too frequently, when I hav e attempted t o write a n essa y after a long and interested concentratio n on the subject , and the notin g of man y exciting idea s an d pattern s o f key terms , an d th e con struction o f wha t looke d lik e a perfec t outline , I hav e foun d myself unabl e t o compos e th e firs t sentence , o r eve n t o kno w what it ough t to be about , or, having forced mysel f t o g o on, to bring th e thin g t o a satisfyin g conclusion , whereas , o n othe r occasions, with no more complete preparation, no greater desir e to write, and no better stat e of nerves, I hav e discovered, to my delight, that nearl y everythin g fell speedil y int o place, th e righ t words came (or at any rate words which I couldn' t change later on), an d th e sentence s an d paragraph s followe d on e anothe r with scarcely a hitch and in an order that still seemed to me the inevitable on e when I cam e to reread th e essa y in cold blood . I hav e had s o many more experiences o f the firs t sor t tha n of the second that I have tried to isolate the reason for the difference. And th e best way I ca n explain it is to say that what I faile d to attain in the former cases and did attain somehow, at one moment or another of the total process, in the latter was a kind of intuitive glimpse o f a possibl e subsumin g form fo r th e materials , o r a t least those I attached most importance to, which I had assembled in m y min d an d notes— a for m sufficientl y coheren t an d intel ligible, as a form i n my mind, so that I could know at once what I mus t or could do, and what I nee d no t o r ought not to do , in what orde r an d wit h wha t emphasi s i n th e variou s parts , i n developing m y arguments and puttin g the m int o words . I hav e never bee n abl e t o writ e anythin g whic h seeme d t o me , i n retrospect, t o possess any quality of organic wholeness, however uninteresting o r thin , excep t in respons e t o suc h a synthesizing idea. I t i s more than a genera l intention , mor e than a "theme, " and mor e than a n outlin e in th e usua l sense of that word ; it is , as I hav e said , a shapin g o r directin g cause , involvin g a t th e same time , an d i n som e sort o f correlation , th e particula r con ceptual for m m y subjec t i s t o tak e i n m y essay , th e particula r 141

mode of argument or of rhetoric I am to use in discussing it, an d the particula r en d m y discussio n i s t o serve : I mus t know , in some fashion , a t leas t thes e thre e thing s befor e I ca n procee d with any ease or success. As a conception m y idea ma y be tigh t or loose, complex or simple; I call it a shaping caus e for the very good reaso n that , onc e suc h a principl e ha s com e to m e fo r a particular essay , it generate s consequence s an d problem s i n th e detailed workin g out of my subject which I canno t wel l escap e so lon g a s I remai n committe d t o writin g th e essa y a s I se e i t ought t o be written . I t exerts , that is , a kind o f impersonal an d objective power, which is at once compulsive and suggestive, over everything I attemp t t o do, until i n the en d I com e out with a composition which , i f my execution ha s been adequate , i s quite distinct, a s an ordered whole, from anythin g I myself completel y intended o r foresaw whe n I began t o write, s o that afterward s I sometimes wonder, even when I applaud, how I could ever have come to say what I have said. I d o not believe tha t thi s experienc e of mine is unique among writers of prose, and I have been told by friends who are novelists, playwrights, o r lyri c poet s tha t somethin g lik e thi s i s a tru e description o f wha t happen s als o t o the m wheneve r the y ar e successfully creative . Th e point indee d ha s ofte n bee n hinte d a t by artist s i n th e to o infrequen t moment s whe n the y tal k i n practical terms , undistorte d b y a priori critica l doctrines , abou t their own or others' work. Most of the published criticism of T. S. Eliot ha s been mor e concerned with th e qualitie s o f poets tha n with th e constructio n o f poems ; but wha t I hav e bee n sayin g about the all-importanc e an d compulsiv e power o f formal cause s in writin g i s a t leas t adumbrate d i n hi s famou s "Impersona l theory o f poetry " and mor e than adumbrate d i n hi s remark , in an early essay, that "No artist produces great art b y a deliberat e attempt t o expres s hi s personality . H e expresse s hi s personalit y indirectly throug h concentratin g upo n a tas k which i s a tas k i n the same sense as the making of an efficient engin e or the turning of a ju g or a table-leg/' 205 Ther e i s interesting testimon y t o th e same effect, too , in some observations by Mr . Joyce Gar y o n th e writing o f novels. "Every professiona l artist, " he says , "has me t the questione r wh o ask s o f som e detail : 'Wh y di d yo u d o i t s o 142

clumsily lik e that , whe n yo u coul d hav e don e i t s o neatl y lik e this?* And smiles , a s o n a poo r dreame r withou t logi c o r under standing, whe n h e get s th e answer : It migh t hav e bee n bette r your way , bu t I couldn' t d o i t becaus e i t wouldn' t hav e be longed/ " This is well understood, he adds, by critics like Horac e and Boileau, who, being also artists, had "learned in practice tha t there ar e rules of construction, mysterious relations i n technique , which exis t apparentl y i n th e natur e o f th e ar t itself'—or , a s I should say , in die nature o f the particula r wor k of art i n hand— "and whic h oblig e th e artis t t o respec t them, " thoug h -thes e ar e by n o mean s the sam e a s th e abstrac t notion s o f literar y kind s which mos t critic s insis t upo n whe n the y discuss , fo r instance , the novel.206 Here -then—in the artist's intuition of a form capable of directin g whatever h e doe s wit h hi s material s i n a particula r work—i s a n essential caus e of poetic structure , th e mos t decisive, indeed , o f all th e cause s o f structur e i n poetr y becaus e i t control s i n a n immediate wa y th e ac t o f constructio n itself . Withou t it , n o poetic whole ; wit h it , a poeti c whol e o f a certai n kin d an d emotional quality , whic h wil l b e excellen t i n proportio n t o th e intrinsic possibilitie s o f the for m th e poe t ha s conceive d an d t o his success in doin g with hi s material s i n his medium all tha t i t requires o r permit s hi m t o d o i f it s ful l possibilities , a s a for m of a certain kind , are to be realized . If form , however, in this constructive sense of the word , is thus an indispensable firs t principl e fo r writers, i t woul d see m that i t might als o b e taken , wit h fruitfu l results , a s a firs t principl e i n the practical criticis m of their works. I do not find, unfortunately, although I hav e looke d widel y i n th e applie d criticis m o f th e past an d present, tha t thi s has ever been knowingl y and systematically don e b y an y o f th e critics , i n th e traditio n I hav e been speakin g of in th e las t tw o lectures, wh o have though t th e problem o f structure i n poetr y t o be a n importan t concern . And there ar e a t leas t tw o major reason s why this has been th e case . In th e firs t place , a s shoul d b e clea r fro m m y example , th e shaping caus e of any given literary work—th e principle whic h de termines fo r its writer th e necessitie s an d opportunitie s h e mus t consider i n composin g it—i s something ove r and abov e and , as a 143

principle, causall y distinc t fro m an y o f th e potentialitie s h e o r anyone els e ca n attribute in advanc e t o eithe r th e material s h e has assemble d i n hi s min d o r th e technica l device s a t hi s dis posal. H e ca n kno w wha t h e ca n do , i n fact , onl y afte r h e ha s done it; an d th e doin g i s an ac t o f synthesis which , i f it i s successful, inevitabl y impose s a new character o n the material s and devices ou t o f which i t i s effected . I f w e ar e t o talk , therefore , about forma l principle s i n poetr y an d b e abl e t o trac e thei r consequences in the structures of particular poems , we must have terms i n ou r criticis m fo r mor e tha n th e material s o f subject matter an d languag e whic h poet s us e an d th e technica l pro cedures possibl e i n their art . Yet it is almost wholly on the basi s of assumption s limite d t o thes e non-forma l aspect s o f poetr y that th e critic s i n th e traditio n w e hav e bee n discussin g hav e undertaken t o dea l wit h problem s o f structur e i n poems . Some of them, as a consequence, hav e confined thei r attention entirel y or mainly to questions of technique i n the sens e either o f devices of prosod y or dictio n (th e rest o f poetry being though t o f a s a matter o f inspiration , invention , o r subject-matter ) o r o f repre sentational device s in the dram a and th e nove l (th e problem of what is represented o r why being thought o f either a s the busi ness o f particula r writer s o r a s no t amenabl e t o art) : a goo d example of both the virtues and limitations of this latter approach is Percy Lubbock' s The Craft of Fiction, in whic h th e proble m of structur e or "form" in the nove l is reduced t o th e proble m of the differen t possibl e ways—som e o f the m assume d t o b e in trinsically bette r tha n others—i n whic h storie s ma y b e shape d in the telling. For the many other critic s i n the modern tradition whos e preoccupations hav e bee n no t s o much technica l a s aesthetic , th e approach t o poeti c structur e has bee n b y wa y o f a dialecti c i n which, as we have seen, 207 the "inseparabl e properties " of poeti c thought an d poeti c expressio n have bee n derive d b y negativ e and positive analogies from th e known or assumed characteristics of othe r mode s o f discourse , wit h th e resul t tha t thes e critic s have bee n abl e t o distinguis h onl y suc h attribute s o f for m i n poetry a s can be discovere d by askin g how th e element s of an y discourse can be o r have been relate d t o on e another i n a com144

position. The y hav e give n u s i n thi s wa y man y approximation s to poeti c form , whic h fai l nevertheless , sinc e the y necessaril y consist merel y i n possibl e o r observe d configuration s o f th e poetic matter , t o constitut e i n an y complet e sens e shapin g prin ciples o f structure . Som e of the approximation s hav e bee n ver y general indeed ; a s when structure, or the best structure, in poetry is identifie d wit h abstrac t relation s o f symmetr y or balanc e (o r their artful avoidance) , of repetition wit h variation, o r of oppositions reconciled , an d th e structura l analysi s o f particular poem s is directe d t o th e subsumptio n o f thei r detail s o f conten t an d diction unde r on e or another o f these schemes ; o r as when some figure o f speech , suc h as metaphor, synecdoche , o r irony , is fixed upon a s th e basi c mode l o f poetic structur e an d th e analysi s of poems determine d accordingly . Th e approximations , however , can easil y b e mor e specifi c tha n these . A goo d man y poeti c patterns, thus , have been derive d b y deductio n fro m th e known possibilities o f grammatica l o r rhetorica l arrangemen t i n dis course of whatever kind; such is Mr. Yvo r Winters' resolution of possible modes of organization i n poetry into seve n major types : the metho d o f repetition , th e logica l method , th e narrativ e method, pseudo-reference, qualitative progression , alternatio n o f method, an d doubl e mood; 208 th e significan t thin g abou t thes e and othe r simila r classifications 209 i s their equa l applicabilit y t o writings whic h th e critic s wh o mak e the m woul d undoubtedl y hold to be non-poetic. An d other relativel y particularize d formu lae have been arrive d a t by finding correspondences between th e arrangement o f parts i n poem s an d th e arrangemen t o f parts i n paintings o r musical compositions; by analogizin g poetic organi zation t o th e simple r an d mor e eviden t structure s o f ritual s o r myths; and very often, especiall y amon g the historica l critics , b y imputing to poems, as structural principles, whatever conventions of desig n ca n b e attribute d t o th e earlie r work s whic h serve d their writer s a s models. Whether genera l o r particular, however , what these expedient s give us are merel y signs o r manifestation s or qualities of order in poems rather tha n th e cause s from which , in individua l poems , th e orde r springs ; the y cal l attentio n t o "patterns" i n poem s o f ofte n grea t intrinsi c interest , bu t the y provide no means, since none are available in the critical languag e

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these critic s ar e using , fo r helpin g u s t o understan d wh y th e "patterns" are there or what their precise function is. For this we require somethin g mor e tha n an y metho d ca n suppl y tha t i s content t o infe r conception s o f for m solel y fro m th e character istics an d possibilitie s o f poeti c materials . In th e secon d place, a s m y initia l exampl e also perhap s sug gests, th e questio n o f shaping principle s i n poetr y i s a questio n not of deductive theory but o f empirical fact; the problem, in any given poem , i s what actuall y was , fo r it s poet , th e primar y in tuition o f for m whic h enable d hi m t o synthesiz e hi s material s into a n ordere d whole . Unti l w e hav e som e ide a o f tha t w e cannot procee d t o inquir e int o it s consequence s i n th e poet' s invention an d renderin g o f details; an d thi s mean s that th e first principle o f our analysi s must be a n induction o f which the only warrant i s the evidenc e o f the poe m itself. W e ma y b e assiste d in makin g this b y ou r knowledg e of othe r poems , and w e nee d general concepts , moreover, to guide us, since it i s only through concepts tha t w e ar e eve r abl e t o understan d particula r things . But what we are looking for is, first of all, a fact—possibly a fac t of a kin d tha t ha s n o complet e paralle l i n th e earlie r o r late r history o f poetry, inasmuch as it i s the mar k of goo d poets tha t they try t o avoi d repeating to o often th e invention s of others. I t is fatal therefor e to think that we can know the shapin g principl e of an y poem in advanc e or, what amount s to th e sam e thing i n practice, tha t w e ca n ge t a t i t i n term s o f an y predetermine d conception o r mode l o f wha t structur e i n poetr y o r i n thi s o r that special branc h o f poetry in general eithe r i s or ought t o be . Yet thi s is exactly what mos t of th e critic s wh o hav e concerned themselves with questions of structure in practical criticis m have attempted t o do . The y hav e com e t o poem s equipped , s o t o speak, wit h paradigm s of poetry , o r o f epic , tragedy , lyric , an d so on , an d henc e wit h mor e o r les s definit e specification s concerning th e nature o f the structura l pattern s the y ough t t o look for; an d the y hav e a s a consequenc e bee n unabl e t o se e an y structural principle s i n poems except those already contained i n their preferre d definitions an d models. Let m e giv e on e mor e exampl e of thi s paradig m metho d i n operation; I tak e it fro m a recent essa y on Othello by Professo r 146

Robert Heilman. 210 No w the questio n o f the structur e of Othello could surel y be approache d inductivel y throug h a comparison of the materia l dat a o f action , character , an d motiv e supplie d t o Shakespeare b y Cinthio' s novella with wha t happene d t o thes e in the completed play. We could then ask what particular shaping principle, amon g principles possibl e i n seriou s dramas, we must suppose t o hav e governe d Shakespeare' s constructio n o f th e tragedy if we ar e t o account with a maximum completenes s an d economy bot h fo r th e ne w use s t o whic h h e pu t hi s borrowed materials an d fo r th e difference s betwee n th e successio n o f ou r expectations an d desire s whe n w e rea d th e novella an d whe n we witnes s o r rea d Othello. This i s not , however , wher e Mr . Heilman starts. His problem is not to develop a hypothesis which will adequatel y explai n th e structura l peculiaritie s o f thi s pla y but t o read the play in the light of a hypothesis (o f th e "abstract" sort) alread y forme d i n hi s min d an d previousl y use d a s th e basis o f hi s interpretatio n o f King Lear. Othello he know s i s a "poetic drama " (sinc e i t i s a dramati c representatio n i n whic h the vers e an d dictio n ar e obviousl y importan t parts) ; i t mus t therefore hav e th e characteristi c structur e o f "poeti c drama, " which is to say, according to Mr . Heilman, a structure composed of tw o elements—"drama " an d "poetry"—whic h operat e i n "col lusion," a s two "languages " or "bearer s o f meaning," to th e en d of expressin g symbolically a "tota l meaning " relative t o a given subject o r "theme. " The argumen t o f hi s essa y is accordingl y a simple application o f this paradigm t o the fact s o f the tex t which it enable s hi m t o selec t a s significan t data . "Th e mos t obvious approach to the structure of drama," he remarks in the beginning, "is t o equat e structur e wit h plo t an d the n t o describ e plo t i n terms of those familiar and yet somewha t elusive elements sometimes calle d risin g action , climax , denouement, etc. " Thi s would give u s a numbe r o f observations , o r guesses , abou t th e stage s of th e action , th e locatio n of the climax , and s o on, which might be true enough bu t whic h would yiel d a t best, a s he says , "only superficial information. " Such information , w e ca n agree , might well b e superficia l for an y critic; what make s i t see m superficia l to Mr . Heilma n i s o f cours e th e hypothesi s h e i s engage d i n applying. Fo r i f Othello is no t merel y a dram a bu t a "poeti c 147

drama/' the n it s structur e mus t b e "equated " wit h somethin g else tha n plot—namely , th e interactio n o f it s "drama " an d it s "poetry." The subject of the dramati c action, he says , is primarily not jealous y (a s man y hav e supposed ) bu t love ; th e advantag e of thi s vie w i s tha t i t no t onl y name s th e dominan t them e bu t indicates "th e force s whic h giv e th e pla y a compositio n o f a certain kind, " inasmuc h a s th e "centra l tensio n i s betwee n th e love of Othello an d th e hat e o f lago, the specifi c form s take n i n this play"—an d her e w e mee t th e familia r reductio n terms—"b y good an d evil." This "dramati c structure, " however, is constantly modified i n th e cours e o f th e pla y b y th e paralle l an d (i n Mr . Heilman's sense ) strictl y "poetic " structur e constituted , i n th e speeches, by the many patterns o f imagery that tur n on symbolic oppositions o f blac k an d white , darknes s an d light , hel l an d heaven, fou l an d fair , chao s an d order . These , w e ar e told , ar e not s o many static antithese s merely , but for m a kin d o f dialec tical action , correspondin g to and enrichin g th e dramati c action , through th e successiv e permutations an d shift s whic h th e basi c pairs o f terms, at leas t i n Mr . Heilman's exposition , are mad e t o undergo. Much of this is illuminating and provocative; one would not car e to embark upon a discussion of the structur e o f Othello without first taking accoun t o f Mr. Heilman's observations . I d o not think , however , tha t h e come s ver y clos e t o definin g an y principle o f structur e fo r Othello tha t coul d conceivabl y hav e guided Shakespear e i n constructin g th e poeti c whol e whic h arouses i n u s suc h poignan t tragi c emotions . Wha t h e exhibit s are rather som e of the material antecedents o f the tragic structur e in th e conception s of love and jealous y which th e writin g o f th e play presupposed an d som e of the consequence s o f the structur e in the imager y and though t b y which i t i s made effectiv e i n th e words; an d hi s onl y warran t fo r "equating " th e combinatio n of these aspect s wit h th e structur e o f the pla y i s his prior assumption, which controls his examination of the text, that the structur e of Othello must be of this sort. These, then , are the main reasons why the dominant languages of moder n criticism , fo r al l th e man y insight s int o poetr y whic h those wh o us e the m hav e attained , ar e inadequat e mean s fo r dealing wit h th e cause s an d aspect s o f structur e i n particula r 148

poems tha t hav e their base s in th e productiv e act s of poets. W e need fo r thi s purpose , i f th e questio n happen s t o interes t o r seem important t o us, a language in whic h w e can envisag e our questions a s question s o f fac t rathe r tha n o f relation s o f idea s (such as "drama" and "poetry" or "poetry" and "prose"); in which we ca n tal k abou t th e interna l necessitie s an d possibilitie s i n poems an d th e problem s thes e posed for thei r poet s rathe r tha n merely abou t th e necessitie s an d problem s define d fo r u s b y our specia l choic e o f dialectica l premises ; i n whic h w e ca n de velop term s for distinguishin g th e forma l cause s o f poem s fro m their materia l constituent s an d technica l mechanisms ; an d i n which, finally , w e ca n achiev e a precisio n o f differentiatio n i n speaking o f th e structure s o f differen t poem s whic h i s no t glaringly incommensurate with the forma l inventiveness of poets. The onl y near approac h t o suc h a critica l language , however, is that made long ago by Aristotle; it would be foolis h no t to avail ourselves o f hi s contribution , i n it s methodologica l aspects , s o far a s possible; an d we have therefore to consider t o what exten t we can still profit, i n practical criticism , b y attemptin g t o adap t to our current need s the principle s an d analytica l device s whic h he was the first and almos t the las t t o use. II

It i s not a question o f regarding th e Poetics, in Mr. Blackmur's phrase, a s a "sacre d book" 211 an d certainl y no t o f looking upo n ourselves, in an y exclusiv e sense, as forming a n "Aristotelian " o r "Neo-Aristotelian" school. It woul d be a desirable thing , indeed , if w e coul d d o awa y wit h "schools " i n criticis m a s the y hav e been done away with in most of the discipline s i n which learning as distinguished fro m doctrine has been advanced. But our loyalty at any rate should be to problems rather tha n to ancient masters ; and if it happens tha t we have problems fo r which Aristotl e can give us the means , or som e of th e means , of solution, we should be prepare d t o benefi t fro m hi s initiativ e i n precisel y th e sam e way a s man y o f ou r contemporarie s hav e benefite d fro m th e more recent initiatives of Coleridge, Richards, Frazer, an d Freu d without necessarily becoming disciples o f any o f these men. And 149

it is not difficul t t o see what there is in Aristotle, o r what we can develop ou t of him, that is immediately pertinent to the proble m of poetic structur e in the particular for m i n which I have define d it at the beginning of this lecture . I shoul d pu t first in the list the conceptio n o f poetic work s as "concrete wholes/'212 Now anything is a concrete whole, as I have said before , th e unit y o f whic h ca n b e adequatel y state d onl y by sayin g tha t i t "i s suc h an d suc h a for m embodie d i n thi s o r that matter, or such and such a matter wit h this o r that form ; so that its shape an d structure mus t be included i n our description " as well as that out o f which it is constituted o r made. And of th e two natures which must join in any such whole, or in our account of it , "th e forma l natur e i s o f greate r importanc e than th e material nature" inasmuch as the "form" of any individual object , such as a man or a couch, is the principl e o r cause "by reason of which th e matte r i s som e definit e thing." 213 I n spit e o f the no w somewhat unfamiliar language in which the conceptio n i s stated in Aristotle , th e underlyin g insigh t i s on e tha t w e ca n easil y translate int o th e term s o f commo n experience . I take , fo r instance, a piece of modelling clay. There ar e many things whic h I canno t d o with it—o f which , a s Aristotle woul d say , it canno t be the matter; but on the other hand the potentialities i t does hold out, within these limits, are indefinite in number: I can make of it, if I wish, a geographical globe , wit h al l its continent s indicated , or th e mode l o f a house , o r th e bus t o f a sinister-lookin g man , and s o o n throug h a vas t rang e o f simila r possibilitie s tha t i s bounded only by my invention and skill . I n an y of these realiza tions th e thin g I mak e remains a thin g o f clay , havin g al l th e permanent characteristic s o f suc h a thing ; bu t i t remain s thi s only i n a partia l sense ; in itself , a s a particula r objec t t o whic h we ma y respon d practicall y o r aesthetically , i t i s a t th e sam e time somethin g else— a globe , a house , a sinister-lookin g man ; and an y description w e may give of it, thoug h it mus t obviously specify it s clayness—tha t is , its materia l nature—woul d b e o f n o use t o anybod y unless it als o specified th e definit e kin d o f thing into whic h th e cla y ha s bee n shaped—tha t is , its forma l nature . And th e latte r i s clearl y mor e importan t tha n th e forme r sinc e it i s wha t accounts , i n an y particula r case , fo r th e cla y bein g 150

handled thu s an d no t otherwis e an d fo r ou r respons e bein g of such and such a quality rather tha n an y other. It i s not difficul t t o see how the conceptio n fits the wor k of the poet o r of any other writer . Her e i s a speec h in a famou s novel : "Ah, my poor dea r child , the trut h is, that in London it i s always a sickly season . Nobod y i s health y i n London—nobod y ca n be . I t i s a dreadful thin g to have you forced t o live there; s o far off ! an d th e ai r so bad!"214 Taken in isolation, this may be described simpl y as an expression of regre t tha t th e perso n addressed ha s to live in London, base d on the commonplace thought that the ai r of London, as compared with th e ai r o f the country , is far fro m healthy . Th e speech , w e may say , is made out o f this matter; but i t is a matter, obviously, that permits o f a variety o f particular uses : it might b e a speec h in a n idyll, o r in a satire, o r in a moral epistle i n th e manne r of Cowper; an d i n eac h cas e it s forma l natur e an d henc e ou r re sponse would b e different . I t i s actually , o f course, a speec h b y Mr. Woodhouse in Emma; and whe n it i s so read, in its positio n in th e dialogu e o f Chapter 1 2 and i n th e ligh t o f wha t w e hav e already seen of Emma's father, it assumes the natur e of a characteristic comi c act, wherei n th e mos t importan t thin g i s no t th e commonplace thought itself , but th e excessiv e and inappropriat e emotion, at the prospect of Isabella's coming departure fo r home, which thi s is made to express , an d whic h i s the forma l principle shaping the matte r of the speec h int o a definite, thoug h not self contained, artisti c uni t capabl e o f directin g ou r thought s i n a particular way. Or her e agai n i s a whol e poem, th e materia l natur e o f whic h is comprised of the followin g sequence o f happenings: A youn g Italian duke , influence d b y hi s idle companions, dismisse s the wis e counsello r hi s fathe r ha d recommende d t o him , refuses th e advice of his fiancee, and devote s himself t o a lif e o f private pleasure and neglec t o f public duty . A Turkish corsai r take s advantag e o f this situation to storm the Duke's castle and to reduce him and all his court to slavery ; an d th e Duk e fall s int o despai r whe n h e learn s tha t hi s fiancee is destine d fo r the conqueror' s harem . She , however, deceive s the corsair into giving her a delay of three days and a chance to speak to he r lover . She uses thi s time t o rous e th e Duk e t o repentance for

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his past error s an d t o work out with hi m a pla n whereb y h e an d hi s father's counsello r wil l attempt a rescue befor e th e thre e day s are up . The pla n succeeds ; th e Duk e an d hi s friend s overcom e th e corsair' s troops an d mak e hi m prisoner . Th e Duke' s fals e companion s the n demand tha t th e Tur k b e executed ; bu t th e Duke , gratefu l fo r th e lesson hi s captivit y ha s taugh t him , respond s b y banishin g the m an d allowing th e corsai r t o depar t unharmed ; whereupo n h e marrie s hi s fiancee and resolves to rule more wisely in the future .

As a n actio n thi s i s clearl y no t withou t som e form, bein g a co herent an d complet e chai n o f possible events , t o whic h w e ar e likely t o respon d b y takin g side s wit h th e Duk e an d th e gir l against their captors . I am sure, however, that anyon e who reads The Duke of Benevento fo r th e firs t tim e afte r hearin g m y summary wil l thin k tha t I hav e give n a ver y indefinit e accoun t of what happens in Sir John Henry Moore's poem and hence misled him completely as to the poem's distinctiv e natur e and effect . H e will probably b e prepared t o read a vaguely tragicomic romance or dram a of a kind commo n enoug h in th e 1770's ; wha t h e wil l actually fin d i s a shor t piec e o f 204 lines beginnin g a s follows : I hate the prologue to a story Worse than the tuning of a fiddle, Squeaking and dinning ; Hang orde r and connection , I love to dash into the midolle; Exclusive of the fame and glory , There is a comfort on reflection To think you've done with the beginning . And so at supper one fine night, Hearing a cry of Alia, Alia, The Prince was damnably confounded, And in a fright , But more so when he saw himself surrounde d By fifty Turks; and at their head the fierce Abdalla, And then he look'd a little grave To find himself become a slave,....

And s o on consistently t o the end , i n a rapidly narrate d episod e of whic h th e forma l natur e i s the kin d o f anti-romanti c comedy clearly foreshadowed in these lines—a form that is only potentiall y in th e stor y o f th e poe m (sinc e thi s coul d yiel d severa l othe r

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forms) an d i s create d ou t o f it , partl y indee d b y Moore' s pre Byronic language and manner of narration, but also , as a readin g of th e whol e poe m will show , by th e notabl y unheroi c qualitie s of characte r an d though t which he give s to his hero and heroine , with the result tha t w e are unable to take their predicamen t an y more tragically than they themselves do. It ca n be see n fro m thes e illustrations ho w differen t i s suc h a conception o f th e interna l relation s o f for m an d matte r i n a "concrete whole " fro m th e late r an d muc h commone r analyti c in which for m o r art i s set over against content or subject-matte r in one or another of the many ways we have already illustrated.215 A poem , o n th e vie w o f it s structur e suggeste d b y Aristotle , i s not a composite of res and verba but a certai n matte r forme d i n a certain way or a certain form imposed upon or wrought out of a certain matter . Th e tw o ar e inseparabl e aspect s o f th e sam e individual thing , thoug h the y ar e clearl y distinc t analyticall y a s principles or causes, and though, of the two , the forma l natur e is necessarily th e mor e importan t a s lon g a s ou r concer n i s wit h the poem as a concrete object. On the on e hand, we do not ceas e to talk abou t the matte r o f a poem when w e examin e its forma l structure, and , o n th e othe r hand , ther e i s a sens e i n whic h nothing in a completed poem, or any distinguishable part thereof, is matte r o r conten t merely, in relatio n t o whic h somethin g els e is form. I n a well-mad e poem, everythin g i s formed , an d henc e rendered poeti c (whateve r i t ma y hav e bee n i n itself) , b y virtue simply of being made to do something definite i n the poem or t o produc e a definitel y definabl e effect , howeve r local, whic h the sam e material s o f language , 'thought , character-traits , o r actions woul d b e incapabl e o f i n abstractio n fro m th e poem , or the context in the poem, in which they appear. We are not speaking poeticall y bu t onl y materially o f anything i n a poem , therefore, whe n we abstract it fro m it s function o r effec t i n the poem ; we speak poetically, o r formally, onl y when we add t o a descrip tion of the thing in terms of its constituent elements (fo r example , the conten t o f a metaphor o r the event s o f a plot) a n indicatio n of th e definit e qualit y i t possesse s or o f that in the poe m for th e sake o f which i t i s there. I n a n absolut e sense , then , nothin g i n a successfu l poe m is non-formal o r non-poetic; bu t i t i s also true

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that structur e of any kin d necessarily implies a subordinatio n of some parts to others; and in this relative sense we may intelligibl y say of one formed element of a poem that it is material to something else in the sam e poem, the existenc e and specifi c effectivenes s of which i t make s possible . W e ma y thu s spea k o f th e word s o f a poem as the materia l basis of the though t they express , although the word s als o hav e for m a s bein g ordere d i n sentence s an d rhythms; an d similarl y we ma y spea k o f though t a s th e matte r of character , o f characte r an d though t i n word s a s th e matte r of actio n or emotion, and s o on up t o but no t including th e over all for m whic h synthesize s al l thes e subordinat e elements , formally effectiv e i n themselves , into a continuou s poetic whole . Or we can reverse the order of consideration, and ask what matter of action , character , an d though t a poe m require s i f it s plo t o r lyric structure is to be formall y o f a certain kind, or what kind of character a speec h ough t t o sugges t i f i t i s to serv e adequatel y its functio n i n a scene , o r wha t selectio n an d arrangemen t of words wil l rende r bes t o r mos t economicall y a give n stat e o f mind. Here the n i s a n intelligible , universall y applicable , an d ana lytically powerfu l conceptio n o f the basi c structura l relation s i n poems which we can take over from Aristotl e without committing ourselves t o th e tota l philosoph y i n whic h i t wa s evolved . W e can als o take over, in the secon d place, th e metho d of investigation an d reasonin g which h e foun d appropriat e t o structure s of this kind. 216 The conception and the method , indeed, ca n hardly be divorced . Fo r i f we are t o conside r poetic works , in practica l criticism, from th e point of view of their concrete wholeness, then our centra l proble m i s t o mak e thei r element s an d subordinat e structures causall y intelligibl e i n th e ligh t o f thei r respectiv e organizing forms . Thi s ca n b e done , however, only by mean s of general concept s embodyin g answer s t o tw o majo r question s relative t o such kinds of poetry as we may be intereste d in : first, what differen t form s ca n g o wit h wha t differen t matters , and , second, what parts, an d wha t construction s of each o f them, ar e necessary to th e achievemen t of any give n form . Bu t these , i t i s obvious, ar e question s o f fact , th e answer s to whic h ca n neve r be give n b y an y "abstract " metho d bu t mus t depen d upo n in -

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quiries o f a n a posteriori typ e whic h mov e inductivel y (i n Aristotle's sens e o f induction) fro m particular s t o th e universal s they embod y an d fro m end s o r form s thu s defined , b y hypo thetical necessit y t o th e essentia l condition s o f thei r realizatio n in poeti c matter . Th e method , o f course , i s no t Aristotelia n i n any uniqu e sense , but n o on e has show n as fully a s he di d ho w it ma y b e applie d t o poetic s o r ho w completel y i t depends , i n this application , upo n an adequate knowledg e of literary history . The metho d i s factual, bu t i t i s not indifferen t t o values ; an d the thir d thing w e ca n lear n fro m Aristotl e i s a manne r o f con sidering questions of better and worse in poetry whic h is likewise appropriate t o th e conceptio n o f poem s a s concret e whole s organized b y forma l principles. 217 A s thing s mad e b y an d fo r men, poems , as I hav e sai d before , can hav e a grea t variet y of uses an d b e judge d no t improperl y i n term s o f man y differen t criteria, moral , political , intellectual , grammatical , rhetorical , historical. T o judge them as poems, however, is to judge them in their distinctiv e aspect a s wholes of certain kinds , in th e ligh t of the assumptio n that th e poet' s end—th e en d whic h make s him a poet—is simpl y the perfectin g o f th e poe m a s a beautifu l o r in trinsically excellen t thing . I d o not mean by this tha t poem s are ever perfecte d i n a n absolut e sense . W e nee d no t quarre l wit h R. G . Collingwood whe n he remarks , in his Autobiography, tha t as a bo y livin g i n a househol d o f artist s h e "learne d t o thin k of a picture no t a s a finished product expose d for the admiratio n of virtuosi, bu t a s th e visibl e record , lyin g abou t th e house , o f a n attempt t o solv e a definit e proble m i n painting , s o fa r a s th e attempt ha s gone. " "I learned, " h e adds , "wha t som e critics an d aestheticians neve r know to the en d o f their lives , tha t n o 'work of art ' is eve r finished , s o that i n tha t sens e o f the phras e ther e is n o suc h thin g a s a 'wor k o f art * at all . Wor k cease s upo n th e picture o r manuscript , no t becaus e i t i s finished , bu t becaus e sending-in day is at hand, or because the printe r i s clamorous for copy, o r because ' I a m sick of working at thi s thing * or 1 can't see wha t mor e I ca n d o t o it.'" 218 Thi s i s soun d sense , whic h critics an d aesthetician s ough t t o lear n i f the y d o no t kno w it ; but i t is clearly no t incompatible wit h th e assumptio n that wha t a poet seek s to do, as a poet, i s to make as good a work poeticall y

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speaking a s he can ; and thi s goodness, we can surely agree with Aristotle, must always consist in a mean between doing too much and no t doin g enoug h i n hi s inventio n an d handlin g o f al l it s parts. Th e criterion , again , i s not a n absolut e one ; th e mea n in art, as in morals, is a relative mean, which ha s to be determine d in adjustmen t t o th e particula r necessitie s an d possibilitie s o f the for m th e artis t is trying to achieve. An d just as the poe t ca n know thes e onl y b y tria l an d erro r plu s reflectio n upo n th e general conditions of his art an d o n what othe r poet s hav e bee n able t o do , so the criti c ca n kno w them, an d th e end s t o whic h they ar e relative , onl y by simila r ex post facto means . H e mus t therefore leav e t o othe r critic s wit h les s strictl y "poetic " pre occupations th e tas k o f formulatin g criteria fo r poetr y o n th e basis of genera l "abstract" principles; hi s business is to tak e th e point o f vie w o f th e poe t an d hi s problem s an d t o judg e wha t he ha s done , a s sympatheticall y a s possible , i n term s o f wha t must and what might be done given the distinctive form , ne w or old, which the poe t is trying to work out of his materials. 219 And here, once more, the procedur e of Aristotle can be o f use. We ca n stil l profit , moreover , not merel y fro m thes e genera l features o f his approach—al l o f them relevan t als o t o othe r tha n critical problems—bu t likewise from man y of the mor e particular applications o f hi s metho d i n th e Poetics, including, firs t o f all , the fundamental distinction, on which the whole treatise is based, between poetr y whic h i s "imitation" and poetr y whic h i s not. 220 The former , fo r Aristotle, is poetry in th e mos t distinctive sense , since it s principle s ar e no t th e principle s o f an y othe r art ; bu t to insist on this is not t o questio n th e possibilit y o f discussing a s "poetry" other kinds of works of which the material s and devices , though not the forms , ar e those of poems in the stricte r meanin g of th e word ; the differenc e i s not on e of relative dignit y o r value but purel y o f constructiv e principle, an d henc e o f th e kind s of hypotheses an d term s tha t ar e required , respectively , fo r th e analysis an d judgmen t o f work s belongin g t o each . Th e dis tinction, a s Aristotle understood it, has played n o important par t in the subsequen t history of criticism. A class of "didactic" poems has, i t i s true, bee n mor e or less constantl y recognized, bu t th e differentiation betwee n thes e an d othe r poem s ha s mos t ofte n 156

been mad e i n term s o f purpose , content , an d techniqu e rathe r than o f matter an d form , a "didactic " poe m being distinguishe d sometimes as one in which th e en d o f instruction is more prominent tha n tha t o f delight , sometime s as on e tha t use s o r springs from o r appeals t o the reason rather tha n th e imagination , sometimes as one that relies mainly on precepts instea d o f fictions and images o r tha t use s direc t rathe r tha n indirec t mean s o f ex pression. Thi s breakdow n o f the origina l distinctio n was natura l enough i n th e period s o f criticis m i n whic h th e end s o f poetr y were define d broadl y a s instructio n an d pleasure , an d i t i s stil l natural in a period, suc h as our own, when the grea t preoccupa tion i s wit h "meaning " an d wit h poetr y a s a specia l kin d o f language fo r expressin g specia l mode s o f signification . I n bot h periods, althoug h som e classes o f poems have been se t apar t a s "didactic" in a peculiar an d frequently pejorative sense, all poetry, or all poetry except that which can be described as "entertainment " merely, ha s tende d t o assum e a n essentiall y didacti c characte r and function . Th e prevalenc e nowaday s o f "themati c analysis " as a method of discussion applicable t o all poetic work s that ca n be take n seriousl y a t al l i s a clea r sig n o f this , a s i s als o th e currency o f "archetypal " analogies . Th e result , however , ha s been t o banish fro m criticism , o r to confus e beyon d clea r recog nition, a distinctio n whic h ha s a s muc h validit y no w a s whe n it wa s first made and whic h ha s no t bee n supplante d b y an y of the later distinctions, sinc e thes e al l rest o n quite different base s of principle . Th e distinctio n i s simply between works , on the on e hand, in which the formal nature is constituted of some particular human activity o r state of feeling qualifie d morally an d emotion ally i n a certai n way , th e beautifu l renderin g o f thi s i n word s being th e sufficien t en d o f th e poet' s effort , an d works , o n th e other han d (lik e th e Divine Comedy, Absalom and Achitophel, Don Juan, 1984, etc.), in which the materia l nature is "poetic" in the sens e that i t i s made up o f parts simila r to thos e o f imitativ e poems an d th e forma l natur e i s constitute d o f som e particula r thesis, intellectua l o r practical , relativ e t o som e genera l huma n interest, the artfu l elaboratio n an d enforcemen t of this by what ever means are available an d appropriate bein g the sufficien t en d of th e poet' s effort . Grea t an d seriou s work s ca n b e an d hav e 157

been writte n o n eithe r o f these basi c principle s o f construction , but th e principle s themselves , i t mus t b e evident , ar e sharpl y distinct, an d the differenc e i s bound t o be reflected, in innumerable subtl e a s wel l a s obviou s ways , i n everythin g tha t poet s have t o d o o r ca n d o i n th e tw o majo r kinds . T o continu e t o neglect th e distinction , therefore , i s merely t o depriv e ourselve s unnecessarily o f an analytica l device—howeve r har d t o appl y i n particular cases—whic h ca n onl y serve , whe n intelligently used , to introduc e greate r exactnes s into ou r critica l description s an d greater fairnes s int o ou r critica l judgments. Of th e man y othe r distinction s an d concept s i n th e Poetics which are still valid and useful—at least for the kind of discussion of poeti c structur e w e now have in mind—nearly al l ar e limited , in thei r stric t applicability , t o imitativ e works . For an y inquir y into suc h form s w e canno t neglect , t o begi n with , th e all important distinction s o f object , means , manner , an d dynamis upon which the definitio n o f tragedy in Chapter 6 is based. The y are, a s I hav e tried t o sho w in th e secon d lecture, th e essentia l and basic determinants of the structur e of any species of imitative works whe n these ar e viewe d a s concrete wholes, 221 for w e ca n conceive adequatel y o f such a whol e only when we conside r a s precisely a s possibl e wha t kin d o f huma n experienc e i s bein g imitated, b y th e us e o f what possibilities o f the poeti c medium , through what mode of representation, an d for the sake of evoking and resolvin g wha t particula r sequenc e o f expectation s an d emotions relative t o th e successiv e part s o f the imitate d object . It i s always some definite combinatio n of these fou r thing s tha t defines, fo r th e imitativ e writer , th e necessitie s an d possibilitie s of an y work he may have in hand; for what he mus t and ca n d o at an y poin t wil l diffe r widel y accordin g a s h e i s imitatin g a character, a state o f passion, or an action, and i f an actio n (wit h character, thought , an d passio n inevitabl y involved) , whethe r one o f whic h th e centra l figure s ar e me n an d wome n morally better than we are, or like ourselves, or in some sense worse; and according a s h e i s doin g thi s i n vers e o f a certai n kin d o r i n prose or in some joining of the two ; and according a s he is doing it in a narrative or a dramatic or a mixed manner; and according , finally, a s h e i s shapin g hi s incident s an d character s an d thei r 158

thoughts an d feelings , his language , an d hi s techniqu e o f repre sentation (whateve r i t ma y be) s o as to giv e us , let u s say , th e peculiar kin d o f comic pleasure w e ge t fro m Tom Jones o r tha t we ge t fro m The Alchemist or , t o ad d stil l anothe r possibl e nuance o f comi c effect , fro m Volpone. These , then , ar e indis pensable distinction s for the criti c wh o wishes to grasp the prin ciples o f construction and th e consequence s thereof in any imitative work ; an d h e wil l b e sacrificin g som e o f th e precisio n o f analysis possible to him if he fails t o take them all into considera tion as independent variables—i f h e talks, for instance, abou t th e plot o f a novel or the patter n o f images in a lyric poem withou t specifying th e emotiona l "workin g o r power " whic h i s it s con trolling form, 222 o r if, in dealing with any kind of imitative work, he neglect s t o distinguis h clearl y betwee n th e "things " bein g imitated, upo n whic h th e dynamis primaril y depends , an d th e expedients o f representationa l manne r by whic h th e write r ha s sought to clarif y o r maximize their peculia r effect. 223 There remains , lastly, the detaile d analyti c of imitative form s which i s represented i n th e Poetics b y th e chapter s o n traged y and epic. I need not repeat what I have said in the second lectur e about Aristotle' s distinctiv e conceptions—whic h hav e largel y vanished fro m late r criticism—o f plot , character , thought , an d diction—or abou t th e relationship s o f causa l subordinatio n i n which thes e "parts " ar e mad e t o stan d t o on e anothe r i n th e tragic an d epi c structures , s o that th e las t thre e (togethe r wit h music an d spectacl e i n tragedy) , whil e bein g capabl e o f for m themselves, hav e th e statu s o f necessar y materia l condition s o f the plot , which , i n th e mos t specifi c sens e o f th e synthesi s o f things done and said in a work as determined t o a certain "work ing o r power, " i s th e principa l par t o r controllin g for m o f th e whole.224 I have said why this analysis seems to me sound, given the assumptions on which it is based an d its limited applicabilit y to work s o f whic h th e subject s ar e action s o f th e mor e o r les s extended sor t Aristotle her e ha d i n mind. We ca n therefore stil l use it , an d th e man y constituen t definition s an d distinction s i t involves, in th e criticis m o f the large r poeti c forms ; an d w e ca n profit particularly , I think , fro m th e discussio n o f tragi c plot form i n Chapte r 13 , not onl y because i t give s u s a clu e t o th e 159

structure o f many later "tragic " works (thi s plot-for m is clearl y the formula, for example, of Othello, though not quite of Macbeth, and certainl y no t o f Richard III) bu t also , an d chiefly , becaus e it suggest s th e fou r genera l question s w e hav e t o as k ourselves about an y wor k having a plo t a s it s principl e o f constructio n if we ar e t o se e clearl y wha t problem s it s write r face d i n com posing it: a s to precisely wha t the chang e is, from wha t i t start s and t o wha t i t moves ; in wha t kin d o f ma n i t take s place ; b y reason o f what cause s in th e man' s thought s an d action s o r out side him ; an d wit h wha t successio n o f emotiona l effect s i n th e representation. Ill

We should be merel y "Aristotelians," however , rathe r tha n in dependent scholar s wer e w e t o remai n conten t wit h wha t w e can thu s extrac t fro m Aristotl e fo r present-da y critica l use ; an d we shoul d b e abl e t o dea l onl y crudel y an d inadequatel y wit h a grea t man y of the mos t interesting structura l problem s raise d by moder n works . W e nee d therefor e t o pus h th e Aristotelia n type o f theoretical analysi s far beyon d th e poin t wher e Aristotl e himself lef t off , and thi s i n severa l differen t directions . There are , t o begi n with , th e man y non-imitativ e specie s o f poetry o r imaginative literature wit h whic h th e Poetics does not deal a t all . A larg e numbe r o f thes e hav e bee n roughl y dis tinguished i n th e nomenclatur e and theorie s o f subsequent criti cism unde r suc h head s as : philosophica l poems , mora l essays , epigrams, treatise s i n verse , occasiona l poems; Horatia n satires , Juvenalian satires , Varronia n o r Menippea n satires ; allegories , apologues, fables, parables, exempla, thesis or propaganda dramas and novels . But thoug h a vast deal o f critical an d historica l dis cussion ha s bee n devote d t o thes e forms , w e hav e a s ye t onl y fragments an d beginning s o f a usable inductiv e analyti c of thei r structural principle s a s distinguishe d fro m thei r materia l con ventions.225 Again, ther e ar e al l th e shorte r imitative forms , mos t o f them later i n origi n o r artisti c developmen t tha n Aristotle , which w e commonly group together a s lyric poems; much of the bes t criti 160

cism of these has been concerned either with their technique s an d fixed conventional pattern s o r wit h a dialectica l searc h fo r th e qualities o f subject-matte r an d expressio n which ar e though t t o differentiate lyri c poetry , a s a homogeneou s type , fro m othe r poetic kinds. 226 Wha t w e nee d t o have , therefore , i s a compre hensive study , fre e fro m "abstract " assumptions , o f th e existin g species o f suc h poem s i n term s bot h o f th e differen t "prope r pleasures" achievabl e i n them an d o f the widel y varian t materia l structures i n which th e pleasure s may inhere. Lyrics , i t i s plain , do no t hav e plots , bu t an y successfu l lyric obviousl y ha s some thing analogou s to a plo t i n th e sens e o f a specifi c for m whic h synthesizes int o a definit e emotional whole what i s said o r don e in th e poe m an d condition s th e necessitie s an d probabilitie s which th e poe t mus t embod y someho w i n hi s lines ; an d th e nature of this formal principle—whether it is , for example, a man in an evolving state of passion interpreted fo r hi m by his thought (as i n th e "Od e t o a Nightingale" ) o r a ma n adjustin g himself voluntarily t o a n emotionall y significant discover y about hi s lif e (as i n th e "Od e o n Intimation s o f Immortality")—ha s t o b e grasped wit h som e precisio n i f w e ar e t o b e abl e t o spea k appropriately an d adequatel y abou t th e poem' s constructio n i n all it s part s an d th e degre e o f its artisti c success . An d her e to o most of the necessar y analytical work still remain s to be done. 227 We are much better off , thank s to Aristotle, with respect t o th e full-length imitativ e form s o f narrative an d drama ; bu t eve n i n this fiel d o f theory ther e ar e man y important outstandin g ques tions. Excep t fo r on e suggestiv e paragraph i n Chapte r 5 o n th e general natur e o f th e ridiculous , th e Poetics a s w e hav e i t i s silent on comedy; and althoug h there is much to be learned fro m the innumerable late r discussions, especially sinc e the eighteent h century, the insight s these mak e available stil l hav e to be trans lated out o f the rhetorica l an d psychologica l languages in whic h they are, for the mos t part, embodie d into the mor e consistently "poetic" language we ar e committe d t o using . That ther e ar e a good man y distinguishable comi c plot-forms, both i n dram a an d in narrative , must be eviden t t o ever y one ; but a s to wha t the y are, an d wha t differen t artisti c necessitie s an d possibilitie s eac h of the m involves , w e hav e a s yet , I think , onl y rathe r vagu e 161

general notions ; and the problem ha s not been greatl y advance d by the traditiona l classification s into comedy of intrigue, comedy of manners , comedy o f character , an d s o on. 228 Th e sam e thing is tru e o f th e man y intermediate form s betwee n comed y in th e stricter sens e an d traged y proper : o f tragicomedy , for example , or th e "serious " an d "tender " comed y whic h emerge d i n th e eighteenth century , o r th e kin d o f domesti c nove l whic h Jan e Austen wrot e i n Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, an d Persuasion, o r th e adventur e romanc e i n it s earlie r a s wel l a s it s contemporary forms , o r eve n th e detectiv e novel , muc h a s ha s been writte n abou t th e "poetics " of that. No r is tragedy itsel f i n much bette r case . Wha t th e Poetics give s u s i s a n analyti c o f only on e among the man y plot-forms which th e critica l opinio n as well as the commo n sense of later time s has thought prope r t o call "tragic" ; an d i t i s on e o f th e unfortunat e result s o f th e respect whic h Aristotl e has alway s commanded that critic s hav e tended t o blu r th e distinctiv e principle s o f constructio n an d effect, o r to impair the artistic integrity, of these "non-Aristotelian" tragic form s i n thei r eagernes s t o brin g the m i n som e fashio n under hi s definition . W e nee d therefor e a fres h attemp t a t analysis, by the sam e method but i n more appropriate terms , for such plot-forms , amon g others , a s ar e represente d severall y by Richard III an d The Duchess of Malfi,22g b y The Orphan, b y The Brothers Karamazov, an d b y A Passage to India. It i s not merel y of the form s o f drama and narrative , however, that w e requir e a bette r theor y bu t als o o f man y o f thei r characteristic structura l devices . W e stil l ten d t o thin k o f plo t in its material aspect s i n the limite d term s in which it i s treate d in th e Poetics on the basi s o f the somewha t elementary practic e of th e Greeks , wit h th e resul t tha t whe n w e hav e t o dea l wit h works that combin e in various ways two o r many lines o f action or concer n themselve s primaril y no t wit h externa l action s bu t with change s i n though t an d feelin g o r wit h th e slo w develop ment o r degeneration o f moral character o r with th e fortune s of groups rather than of individuals, we often fal l into the confusio n which has led man y modern critics t o rejec t the concep t o f plo t altogether. Thi s i s clearl y n o solution , bu t th e remed y ca n b e only a mor e comprehensiv e an d discriminatin g inductio n o f 162

possible dramati c an d narrativ e structure s tha n Aristotl e wa s able t o provide . An d ther e i s als o th e comple x questio n o f ho w plots o f whatever kind, or their equivalent s in othe r forms , hav e to be o r can be represente d i n the words—th e question, in short , of imitativ e manne r in a sens e that goe s beyond, while stil l de pending upon , Aristotle's distinctio n o f the thre e manner s in his third chapter . O f all the topics I have mentioned, this is perhap s the on e on which the largest body of precise an d usefu l observa tion has been accumulated , by al l those critic s fro m th e Renais sance to our day who have devoted themselves to the "techniques" first o f th e dram a an d epi c an d the n o f th e novel , short-story , and lyric . Eve n here , however , muc h remain s t o b e done ; an d one o f th e chie f requisites , I think , i s a cleare r posin g o f th e whole problem in such a way as to correlate the man y devices of manner which thes e critic s have discriminated, a s well a s others that have escaped them, with the distinguishable function s which manner has to serve with respec t t o form . I hav e touched upo n some o f these function s i n the secon d lecture, 230 an d I wil l ad d only th e suggestio n tha t ther e ar e likel y t o be, i n al l richl y de veloped imitativ e works , incidents , characters , speeches , an d images which are not parts o f the plot-for m but mus t be viewe d by th e criti c a s element s o f "thought " i n a sens e aki n t o bu t distinct fro m tha t intende d b y Aristotl e i n Chapter s 6 an d 19 . We ma y trea t a s "thought " o f thi s kin d anythin g permitting of inference i n a poetic work, over and abov e the direc t workin g of the imitate d object , tha t function s a s a device , vis-^-vi s th e audience, fo r disclosin g or hinting a t relevan t trait s o f characte r or situation , awakenin g o r directin g expectations , conditionin g states o f mind, emphasizing essentia l issues , suggestin g i n wha t light somethin g is t o b e viewed , or , mor e broadly still , settin g the actio n o r som e par t o f i t i n a large r contex t o f idea s o r analogies s o that i t ma y com e t o seem , in it s universa l implica tions fo r human beings, not simpl y the particula r an d untypica l action i t migh t otherwis e b e take n t o be . Ever y novelis t o r dramatist—or lyric poet, fo r that matter—wh o reflect s o n his ow n work wil l understan d wha t thi s means ; bu t th e conceptio n ha s still t o becom e widel y recognize d amon g critics , o r i t surel y would hav e bee n applie d lon g sinc e t o suc h thing s a s th e ap -

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parentiy superfluou s episode s an d character s an d th e recurren t general words and patterns of images in Shakespeare—the dialectic of "Nature " i n King Lear, fo r instance—concernin g whic h mos t recent writer s hav e though t i t necessar y t o offe r muc h mor e profound explanations. 231 It woul d b e well , finally , i f w e coul d carr y ou r metho d o f inductive an d causa l analysi s int o som e of th e large r question s of theory—commo n t o bot h imitativ e an d non-imitativ e poetry — to which these writers an d other contemporar y critics hav e given special prominence : w e coul d profi t greatly , fo r example , fro m a re-examination , i n ou r distinctiv e language , o f poeti c images , of th e element s an d function s o f diction i n poetry, o f the variou s modes an d use s of symbols, and o f th e structura l characteristic s of myths. 232 We need not wait, however, for the completion of these possibl e studies befor e beginnin g t o us e suc h theor y o f poeti c form s a s we no w posses s i n th e servic e o f practica l criticism . Ther e i s after al l a clos e mutua l interdependence , i n th e metho d w e ar e considering, betwee n theoretica l analysi s an d th e investigatio n of particula r works ; and a s ou r attempt s a t applicatio n becom e more numerou s an d mor e varie d i n thei r objects , s o wil l ou r grasp of the necessar y general distinction s an d principles ten d t o improve. IV

In thes e attempts , a s shoul d b e clea r fro m wha t I hav e said , we shall be making a pretty complet e break wit h the traditio n of practical criticis m discusse d i n th e las t tw o lectures— a traditio n in which it has always been necessary, before individual work s of poetic ar t ca n be analyse d o r judged, to conceiv e o f poetry a s a homogeneous whol e an d t o defin e it s natur e i n som e kin d o f dialectical relatio n t o othe r modes of discourse and thought . W e shall no t need , fo r ou r purposes , t o commi t ourselves t o an y of the numerou s an d apparentl y inconsisten t theorie s o f poetry , tragedy, lyric , or the like , based o n such a presupposition, whic h this traditio n ha s developed . W e shal l no t nee d t o worry , a s so many contemporarie s have done , abou t ho w poetr y differ s fro m

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science o r prose , o r abou t wha t it s missio n i s i n th e moder n world. W e shal l no t nee d t o decid e i n advanc e o f ou r studie s of poem s whether poetr y i n genera l i s best define d a s a kin d of language o r a kind o f subject-matter; whethe r it s end i s pleasur e or som e specie s o f knowledg e o r practica l good ; whethe r it s proper domai n include s al l th e kind s o f imaginativ e writin g o r only som e o f these ; whethe r i t i s mos t closel y aki n t o rhetori c and dialecti c o r to ritual , myth , o r dream ; o r whether i t i s or is not a separable elemen t in prose fiction and drama. Nor shall we need t o assume that all good poems have "themes" o r that poeti c expression i s alway s indirect , metaphorical , an d symbolic . No t merely woul d suc h speculativ e commitment s b e useles s t o us , given ou r empirica l starting-point , bu t the y woul d b e fatal , i n proportion a s we allowed our analyses to be directed b y them, to our very effort , sinc e the y woul d inevitably blin d u s t o al l thos e aspects o f ou r proble m whic h ou r particula r doctrin e o f poetr y failed t o take into account . I do not mean that we shall not have to make some assumptions of ou r own , bu t onl y tha t thes e nee d no t an d ough t no t t o b e particularized assumption s abou t th e intrinsi c natur e an d neces sary structur e o f ou r object s considere d a s a unitar y clas s o f things. W e shal l hav e t o assum e that an y poeti c work , like an y other production o f human art, has , or rather is , a definite struc ture o f som e kin d whic h i s determine d immediatel y b y it s writer's intuition o f a form t o be achieve d i n its materials b y ^h e right use of his medium, and, furthermore , tha t we can arrive a t some understandin g o f wha t thi s for m actuall y i s an d us e ou r understanding a s a principle i n th e analysi s and criticis m o f th e work. W e shal l hav e t o com e to som e agreement, moreover , a s to wha t w e wil l mea n b y "poeti c works" ; bu t her e agai n th e fewer specification s w e impos e o n ourselve s i n advanc e th e better. It will be sufficient fo r all our purposes if we begin, simply , by takin g as "poems" or "works of literary art " al l thos e kinds of productions whic h hav e been commonl y called suc h a t differen t times, bu t withou t an y supposition that , becaus e thes e hav e th e same name, they are al l "poems" o r "works of literary art " i n th e same fundamenta l structura l sense—tha t th e ar t necessar y t o write The Divine Comedy o r The Faerie Queene is the sam e art ,

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when viewe d i n term s o f it s peculia r principle s o f form , a s th e art whic h enabled Shakespear e t o write King Lear an d Othello. And fo r suc h production s w e shal l nee d t o assume , in addition , only on e commo n characteristic : tha t the y ar e al l works which, in on e degree o r another , justif y critica l consideratio n primaril y for thei r ow n sake, a s artisti c structures , rathe r tha n merel y for the sake of the knowledge or wisdom they express or the practical utility w e may derive fro m them , though eithe r o r both o f thes e other value s may be importantly involved in any particular case . The proble m o f structure , fo r an y individua l wor k o f thi s kind, i s th e problem—t o giv e i t it s mos t genera l statement—o f how the material nature of the work is related t o its formal nature , when we understand by for m tha t principle, or complex of principles, whic h give s t o th e subject-matte r th e powe r i t ha s t o affect ou r opinion s and emotion s in a certai n definit e wa y suc h as woul d not hav e been possibl e ha d th e synthesizin g principl e been of a different kind . The question, as I have said, is primarily one of fact and cause; and it is answered, for a given work, when we have made as intelligible a s we ca n th e fashio n i n whic h it s material element s o f whateve r kind—words , images , symbols , thoughts, character-traits , incidents , device s o f representation are mad e t o functio n i n relatio n t o a forma l whol e whic h w e can warrantably assert was the actua l final cause of its composition. By "actual final cause" I mea n simply a caus e withou t th e assumption o f which , a s someho w effectiv e i n th e writing , th e observable characteristic s o f th e parts , thei r presenc e i n th e poem, their arrangemen t an d proportioning , an d thei r intercon nections canno t b e adequatel y understood . I n discoverin g wha t this shapin g principle i s in an y wor k we mus t mak e use o f such evidence as there may be concerning the history of its conception and writing, including any statements the writer ma y have made about hi s intentions . Ou r task , however , i s no t t o explai n th e writer's activity but the result thereof; our problem is not psychological bu t artistic ; an d hence th e cause s that centrall y concer n us ar e th e interna l cause s of whic h th e onl y sufficien t evidenc e is th e wor k itsel f a s a complete d product . Wha t w e wan t t o know i s no t th e actua l proces s bu t th e actua l rational e o f th e poem's constructio n i n term s o f the poeti c problem s th e write r 166

faced an d th e reason s whic h determine d hi s solutions . And i n looking for these we shall assume that if the poem holds togethe r as a n intelligibl y effectiv e whole , i n whic h a certai n for m i s realized i n a certai n matte r whic h neve r befor e ha d thi s form , the result can be understood fully only by supposing that such and such problem s wer e involve d an d wer e solve d b y th e write r i n accordance wit h reason s which , i n par t a t least , w e ca n state ; and thi s clearl y doe s no t commi t us t o holdin g tha t th e prob lems an d reason s we uncove r in ou r analysis , as necessaril y im plied b y th e complete d poem , mus t have presente d themselve s to th e write r explicitl y a s suc h i n a continuou s movemen t of self-conscious deliberation ; i t wil l b e sufficien t i f w e ca n sho w that th e poe m coul d hardl y hav e bee n writte n a s i t i s o r hav e the effec t i t doe s o n our mind s had th e write r no t done , some how or at some time, what these particular problems and reasons dictate. We ca n never, o f course, know such thing s directly , bu t onl y by inferenc e fro m th e consequence s o f th e conceive d form , whether o f the whol e or of an y o f its parts , i n th e detail s o f th e completed work ; and ther e ca n be n o suc h inferenc e excep t b y way o f hypothese s whic h bot h impl y an d ar e implie d b y th e observable traits of the work. There are, however, hypotheses an d hypotheses, an d th e characte r o f thos e w e shal l hav e t o mak e is determined by th e natur e of our problem. We propose to consider poem s a s uniqu e existen t thing s th e structura l principle s of whic h ar e t o b e discovered , rathe r tha n a s embodiment s of general truth s abou t th e structur e o f poetr y alread y adequatel y known. Henc e ou r procedur e mus t be th e revers e o f tha t pro cedure b y wa y o f preferre d paradigm s o r model s o f structur e which w e hav e see n t o b e s o characteristi c o f contemporar y practical criticism . Our task is not to show the reflection i n poems of comple x o r "ironical " attitudes , interaction s o f pros e an d poetry o r o f logical structur e an d irrelevan t texture , pattern s of ritual drama , or basic mythical themes, on the assumptio n that if the poe m i s a goo d poe m i t wil l inevitabl y hav e whicheve r o f these o r othe r similarl y derive d genera l structure s w e happe n to b e intereste d i n findin g example s of; i t i s rathe r th e tas k of making forma l sens e ou t o f an y poeti c wor k befor e u s o n th e

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assumption tha t i t ma y i n fac t b e a wor k fo r whos e peculia r principles o f structur e ther e ar e nowher e an y usabl e parallel s either in literary theor y or in ou r experience o f other works. The hypotheses w e have t o make, therefore, wil l no t be o f the fixed and accredite d kin d whic h scientist s emplo y onl y whe n thei r problem i s no t t o fin d ou t somethin g stil l unknow n bu t t o "demonstrate" a classi c experimen t t o beginners , bu t rathe r o f the tentativ e kind—t o b e modifie d o r rejecte d altogethe r a t th e dictation o f the facts—whic h ar e the proper mean s to any serious inductive inquiry . The y wil l b e particula r workin g hypothese s for th e investigatio n o f th e structure s o f individua l poems , no t general hypotheses about such things as poetry or "poetic drama" in whic h th e specifi c natur e o f th e individua l structure s t o b e examined i s alread y assumed . We mus t als o distinguis h betwee n critica l hypothese s i n th e strict sens e an d interpretativ e hypothese s concernin g th e detail s of literar y work s in thei r materia l aspects . I t i s no t on e o f ou r presuppositions tha t "form " i n poetr y i s "meaning" ; w e shoul d hold, rather , tha t meanin g is something involved i n poem s as a necessary, but no t sufficient , conditio n of the existenc e in them of poetic form , an d henc e tha t th e recover y o f meanin g i s a n essential prerequisit e t o th e discover y o f for m thoug h no t i n itself suc h a discovery. Before w e ca n understand a poem a s an artistic structur e we must understand i t a s a grammatica l struc ture mad e u p o f successiv e words , sentences , paragraphs , an d speeches which giv e u s both meaning s in th e ordinar y sens e of that term an d signs from whic h we may infer wha t the speakers , whether character s o r narrators , ar e lik e an d wha t the y ar e thinking, feeling , o r doing . Th e grea t temptatio n fo r critic s who are not trained an d practising scholars is to take this understanding fo r grante d o r to thin k tha t i t ma y easily b e obtaine d at secon d han d b y consultin g the work s of scholars . Thi s i s a n illusion, jus t a s it i s an illusio n i n scholar s to suppos e tha t the y can see , withou t -trainin g i n criticism , al l th e problem s whic h their distinctiv e method s are fitted to solve. The ideal woul d b e that al l critic s shoul d b e scholar s an d al l scholar s critics ; but , although ther e ough t t o b e th e closes t correlatio n o f th e tw o functions i n practice, the y are nevertheless distinct i n nature and

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in th e kind s o f hypotheses t o whic h the y lead . Th e hypothese s of interpretatio n ar e concerne d wit h th e meaning s an d implica tions in text s that resul t fro m thei r writers ' expressive intention s in setting down particular word s and constructions and arrangin g these i n particula r sequences . Suc h meaning s and implications , indeed, ar e forms , o f which words and sentence s ar e th e matter ; but the y ar e form s o f a kind that ca n appea r i n an y sor t o f dis course, howeve r unpoetic . The y ar e t o b e interprete d b y re solving the form s int o the element s which poem s share with th e common speec h or writing and the commo n thought an d experi ence of the time s when they were written; an d thi s requires th e use o f technique s an d principle s quit e differen t fro m an y tha t poetic theor y ca n afford : th e technique s an d principle s o f his torical grammar , o f th e analysi s an d histor y o f ideas , o f th e history o f literary conventions , manners, and s o on, and th e stil l more genera l technique s an d principles , seldo m methodized, b y which w e constru e character s an d action s i n everyda y life . The hypothese s o f criticism , o n th e contrary , ar e concerne d with th e shapin g principles , peculia r t o th e poeti c arts , whic h account in an y work for th e powe r o f its grammatica l materials, in th e particula r orderin g give n to these , t o mov e ou r opinion s and feeling s i n such-and-suc h a way . The y wil l b e o f two sort s according a s th e question s to whic h the y ar e answer s relat e t o the principle s b y whic h poeti c work s have bee n constructe d a s wholes o f certain definit e kind s or t o th e reason s which connect a particula r par t o f a give n work , directl y o r indirectly , wit h such a principl e b y wa y o f th e poeti c problem s i t se t fo r th e writer a t this point. And there can be no good practical criticis m in thi s mod e in whic h bot h sort s ar e no t present ; fo r althoug h the primar y business of th e criti c i s wit h th e particular s o f an y work h e studie s dow n t o it s minute r detail s o f dictio n an d rhythm, h e ca n neve r exhibi t th e artisti c problem s involve d i n these o r fin d othe r tha n extra-poeti c reason s fo r thei r solution s without the guidanc e of an explicit definition o f the forma l whole which the y hav e mad e possible . A singl e wor k wil l suffic e t o illustrat e bot h kind s o f critica l hypotheses as well as the relation between them, and I will begin by considerin g wha t ide a o f th e governin g for m o f Macbeth 169

appears t o accor d bes t wit h th e fact s o f tha t pla y an d th e sequence o f emotions it arouse s in us. I nee d no t sa y again why it seem s to m e futile t o loo k for a n adequat e structura l formul a for Macbeth i n an y o f th e mor e "imaginative " direction s com monly taken by recent criticism ; I shal l assume , therefore, without argument, that we have to do, not with a lyric "statemen t of evil" or a n allegor y o f th e working s of si n i n th e sou l an d th e state o r a metaphysica l myt h o f destructio n followe d b y re creation o r a morality play with individualized character s rathe r than types, 233 but simpl y wit h a n imitativ e tragi c dram a base d on historical materials. To call it a n imitative tragic drama , however, doe s no t carr y u s ver y far ; i t merel y limit s roughl y th e range o f possible form s w e hav e t o consider . Amon g thes e ar e the contrastin g plot-forms embodied respectivel y i n Othello and in Richard III: th e first a tragic plot-for m in the classi c sens e of Aristotle's analysi s i n Poetics 13 ; the secon d a plot-for m which Aristotle rejecte d a s non-tragi c bu t whic h appeale d strongl y t o tragic poets in the Renaissance— a form of serious action designed to arous e mora l indignatio n fo r th e deliberatel y unjus t an d seemingly prosperin g act s o f th e protagonis t an d mora l satis faction a t hi s subsequen t ruin . Th e plot-for m o f Macbeth clearly involves elements which assimilate it now to the on e and now t o th e othe r o f both thes e kinds . The actio n o f th e pla y i s twofold, an d on e of its aspects i s the punitiv e actio n o f Malcolm, Macduff, an d thei r friend s whic h i n th e en d bring s abou t th e protagonist's downfal l an d death . Th e character s her e ar e al l good men , whom Macbeth has unforgivabl y wronged, an d thei r cause i s th e unqualifiedl y just cause o f freein g Scotlan d fro m a bloody tyrant an d restorin g the rightfu l line o f kings. All this i s made clea r i n th e representatio n no t onl y directl y throug h th e speeches an d act s o f the avenger s but indirectl y b y thos e wonderfully vivi d device s of imagery and genera l though t i n whic h modern critics hav e found th e centra l valu e an d meanin g of th e play as a whole; an d ou r responses, when this part o f the actio n is before us , ar e suc h a s ar e clearl y dictate d b y th e immediat e events an d th e poeti c commentary : we desire , tha t is , the com plete success of the counter-action and this as speedily as possible before Macbet h ca n commi t furthe r horrors . W e desir e this ,

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however—and that is what a t once takes the plot-for m out of th e merely retributiv e class—no t onl y for th e sak e of humanit y an d Scotland bu t als o fo r th e sak e o f Macbet h himself . Fo r wha t most sharpl y distinguishes ou r vie w of Macbet h from tha t o f hi s victims and enemie s is that, wherea s they se e him fro m th e out side only , w e se e hi m also , throughou t th e othe r actio n o f th e play—the majo r action—fro m th e inside , a s h e see s himself ; an d what w e se e thus i s a mora l spectacl e th e emotiona l qualit y of which, fo r th e impartia l observer , i s no t to o fa r remove d fro m the tragi c dynamis specifie d i n th e Poetics. Thi s i s no t t o sa y that th e mai n action o f Macbeth is not significantl y different, i n several respects , fro m th e kin d o f tragi c actio n whic h Aristotle envisages. Th e chang e i s no t merel y fro m goo d t o ba d fortune , but fro m a goo d state o f character t o a stat e i n whic h th e her o is almost , bu t no t quite , transforme d int o a monster ; an d th e tragic ac t whic h initiate s th e change , an d stil l mor e the subse quent unjus t act s whic h thi s entails , ar e act s done—unlik e Othello's killing of Desdemona—in ful l knowledg e o f their moral character. W e cannot , therefore, stat e th e for m o f this actio n i n strictly Aristotelian terms, but th e for m i s none the les s one tha t involves, like tragedy in Aristotle's sense, the arousal and catharsi s of painfu l emotion s for , an d no t merel y wit h respec t to , th e protagonist—emotions fo r whic h th e term s pity an d fea r ar e no t entirely inapplicable . Any adequate hypothesis about the structure of Macbeth, then , would hav e t o tak e both o f these set s o f fact s int o account . Fo r both of the view s we are give n of the her o are true: he i s in fact , in term s o f the natur e an d objectiv e consequence s o f hi s deeds , what Macduf f an d Malcol m say he i s throughout Acts IV and V , but h e i s also—an d th e for m o f th e pla y is really the interactio n of th e tw o view s i n ou r opinion s an d emotions—wha t w e our selves se e hi m t o b e a s w e witnes s th e working s o f hi s min d before th e murde r of Duncan, then afte r th e murder , and finally when, a t th e end , al l hi s illusion s an d hope s gone , h e face s Macduff. H e i s on e wh o commit s monstrous deeds withou t be coming wholly a monster, since his knowledge of the righ t prin ciple i s never altogethe r obscured , though i t i s almos t so in Ac t IV. W e ca n understan d suc h a perso n an d henc e fee l fea r an d 171

pity of a kind fo r him because h e i s only doing upon a grande r scale an d wit h deepe r guil t an d mor e terrifyin g consequence s for himsel f and other s what we can, without too much difficulty , imagine ourselve s doing , howeve r les s extremely , i n circum stances generall y similar . Fo r th e essentia l stor y o f Macbeth i s that o f a man, not naturally depraved , who has fallen under th e compulsive power o f an imagined better stat e fo r himsel f which he ca n attai n onl y b y actin g contrar y t o hi s norma l habits an d feelings; wh o attains thi s stat e an d the n finds that h e mus t continue t o ac t thus , an d eve n worse , i n orde r t o hol d o n t o wha t he ha s got ; wh o persist s an d become s progressivel y hardene d morally in the process; an d who then, ultimately, when the once alluring goo d is about t o be taken awa y from him , faces th e loss in terms of what is lef t o f his origina l character . I t i s something like thi s mora l universal tha t underlies , I think , an d give s emotional form t o the main action of Macbeth. It i s a form tha t turns upon the differenc e betwee n what seemingly advantageous crime appears to be in advance to a basically goo d but incontinent man and wha t its moral consequences for such a man inevitably are ; and th e catharsi s i s effecte d no t merel y b y th e man' s deserve d overthrow but b y hi s ow n inner sufferin g an d b y hi s discovery, before i t i s too late, of what he ha d no t known before he bega n to act. If we are normal human beings we must abhor his crimes; yet w e canno t completel y abho r bu t mus t rathe r pit y th e ma n himself, and even when he seems most the monste r (a s Macbeth does i n Ac t IV) w e mus t still wish for suc h an outcom e a s will be best , unde r th e circumstances , no t merel y fo r Scotlan d bu t for him. But i f this , o r somethin g clos e t o it , i s indee d th e comple x emotional structur e intende d i n Macbeth, then w e hav e a basi s for definin g with some precision the various problems of incident, character, thought , imagery , diction , an d representatio n whic h confronted Shakespear e in writing the play, and hence a startingpoint fo r discussing , i n detail , th e rational e o f it s parts. 284 Consider—to tak e onl y on e instance—th e fina l scene . I n th e ligh t of the obviou s consequence s o f th e for m I hav e attribute d t o th e play as a whole, it is not difficult t o state what the main problems at this point are. If the catharsis of the tragedy is to be complete , 172

we must be mad e to feel bot h tha t Macbet h is being kille d i n a just cause and that hi s state o f mind and th e circumstance s of his death ar e suc h a s befi t a ma n who , fo r al l hi s crimes , ha s no t altogether los t our pity an d goodwill . W e are o f course prepare d for thi s doubl e respons e b y al l tha t ha s gon e before , and , mos t immediately, in the earlie r scene s of Act V, by the fres h glimpses we are given of the motivatio n of the avenger s and b y Macbeth' s soliloquies. Bu t i t wil l clearl y b e bette r i f th e dua l effec t ca n be sustaine d unti l th e ver y end ; an d thi s requires , o n th e on e hand, that we should be vividly reminded onc e more of Macbeth's crimes an d th e justifie d hatre d the y hav e cause d an d o f th e prospect o f a new and bette r time which hi s death hold s ou t fo r Scotland, and , o n the othe r hand , tha t w e shoul d b e allowe d t o take satisfaction, at last, in the manner in which Macbeth himself behaves. Th e artisti c triump h o f the scen e lie s i n th e complete ness with whic h both problem s ar e solved: the first in the words and action s o f Macduff , th e speeche s abou t youn g Siward , an d Malcolm's closin g address ; th e secon d b y a variet y o f devices , both o f inventio n an d o f representation , th e appropriatenes s o f which to the needed effec t ca n be see n if we ask what we would not wan t Macbet h t o d o a t thi s moment . W e wan t hi m t o b e killed, a s I hav e said , fo r his sak e no less tha n tha t o f Scotland; but w e woul d no t wan t hi m eithe r t o see k ou t Macduf f o r t o flee the encounte r whe n i t come s or t o "pla y th e Roma n fool" ; we would not want him to show no recognition o f the wrong s he has done Macduff or , when his last trust in the witches ha s gone, to continu e t o sho w fea r o r t o yiel d o r t o figh t wit h savag e animosity; and h e is made to do none of these things , bu t rathe r the contrarie s o f al l o f them , s o that h e act s i n th e en d a s th e Macbeth whos e praise s w e hav e hear d i n th e secon d scen e of the play . An d I woul d sugges t tha t th e catharti c effec t o f thes e words an d act s is reinforced indirectly, i n th e representation , b y the analog y w e ca n hardl y hel p drawin g betwee n hi s conduc t now an d th e earlie r conduc t o f youn g Siward , fo r o f Macbet h too it ca n be sai d tha t 'Ti e parte d wel l an d pai d hi s score" ; th e implication o f this analog y is surely one o f the functions , thoug h not th e onl y one, which th e line s abou t Siwar d ar e intende d t o serve. 173

Such are th e kind s of hypotheses w e shall nee d t o make if we are t o hav e critica l knowledg e o f th e shapin g principle s o f poetic work s o r o f th e artisti c reason s governin g th e characte r and interrelatio n o f thei r parts . The y ar e workin g supposition s which, a s I hav e said , bot h impl y an d ar e implie d b y th e par ticulars o f th e work s fo r whic h the y ar e constructed ; an d the y can never be made well by any critic who is not naturally sensi tive t o suc h particular s an d i n th e habi t o f observin g the m closely. These , however , though indispensable, ar e no t sufficien t conditions. I t neve r happen s i n an y inquiry int o matter s of fac t that th e particular s w e observ e determin e thei r ow n meanin g automatically; the concret e or the individual is never intelligible except throug h th e genera l an d th e abstract ; an d i f w e ar e t o allow the facts t o speak for themselves, we must in some fashio n supply the m wit h a languag e i n whic h t o talk . Hypotheses , i n short, ar e no t mad e out o f nothing, bu t presuppos e o n the par t of th e inquire r wh o form s the m a systemati c body o f concept s relative t o th e subject-matte r wit h whic h h e i s dealing . Th e critic wh o propose s t o explor e hypotheticall y th e structure s o f individual poems is in the same predicament; he must bring to his task, inescapably, genera l idea s about poetic structure, o r he can never construc t a workabl e hypothesi s abou t th e structur e o f any poem. Hence th e crucia l importanc e fo r the practica l critic of poeti c forms, i n th e sens e we ar e no w givin g to thi s term , o f the kin d of analyti c o f poetr y whic h wa s outline d earlie r i n thi s lecture . From the poin t of view of the criticis m o f individual poems , th e concepts an d distinction s involve d i n tha t analyti c diffe r fro m those which most contemporary critics have been conten t to use: they supply, not a unified se t of terms for constitutin g structura l patterns in poems (like Mr. Heilman's formula fo r "poetic drama" or th e theorie s tha t mak e al l goo d poetry a specie s o f "ironical" or "paradoxical " structure) , bu t a grea t variet y o f term s desig nating distinc t an d alternativ e principles , devices , an d function s in poetr y fro m whic h th e criti c nee d selec t onl y such combinations a s appea r t o b e relevan t t o th e poem s h e i s examining . What h e thu s acquire s ar e no t hypothese s read y forme d bu t elements ou t o f whic h h e ma y for m suc h hypothese s a s th e 174

facts o f hi s poem s see m t o warrant—i n short , knowledg e o f structural possibilitie s only , resting o n inductive inquir y int o th e principles poet s hav e actually used in building poems and henc e expanding wit h th e developmen t an d progressiv e differentiatio n of poetr y itself, so that h e bring s t o th e discussio n of individua l poems merel y conceptua l material s fo r framin g pertinen t ques tions abou t them without an y predetermination o f the substanc e of hi s answers , much a s a physicia n use s th e alternative s give n him b y medica l theor y i n diagnosin g symptom s in on e o f hi s patients. I n th e othe r mod e of criticism th e relatio n o f theory t o a particula r poe m is the relatio n o f a previously selected ide a o r pattern o f structur e t o it s embodimen t o r reflectio n i n a give n work; her e th e relatio n i s on e o f man y know n possibilitie s o f structural patternin g i n poetr y t o th e actualizatio n i n th e poe m examined o f som e one o r mor e of these . A criti c usin g th e firs t typ e o f theor y migh t argu e somewha t as follows, for example, about the structur e o f Gray's Elegy. We must assume , he migh t say , the languag e o f poetr y bein g wha t it is , that th e principl e o f structure i n an y goo d poem is a prin ciple o f balancin g an d harmonizin g discrepan t connotations , attitudes, an d meanings ; w e mus t look therefore fo r a structur e of thi s kin d i n Gray' s poe m o r b e conten t t o relegat e i t t o a n inferior clas s of poetry; and ou r quest , indeed, i s not i n vain, for when we examine the tex t in th e ligh t o f our genera l hypothesi s of "ironical " structure , we quickl y find that al l the detail s o f th e Elegy ca n be subsumed under the theme of a continuous contrast of tw o mode s of burial—i n th e churc h itsel f an d i n th e church yard—in which , a s i n al l goo d poetry , opposin g meaning s ar e finally resolved. 235 A critic , however , whos e theor y wa s o f th e second type , woul d procee d i n a n altogethe r differen t way . H e would hav e n o favourit e hypothesi s o f structur e a s such , bu t would kno w merel y tha t amon g shor t poem s which , lik e th e Elegy, evok e in u s seriou s emotions, the shapin g principl e ma y be o f several essentiall y distinc t types , eac h o f the m generatin g distinct artisti c problem s fo r th e poet ; an d h e woul d us e thi s knowledge a s a basi s fo r askin g himself som e such questions a s these: I s what happens in the Elegy bes t explained by supposing, as the othe r critic ha s clearly done , that the poe m is intended t o 175

be rea d a s an emotionalize d argumen t i n vers e (whethe r abou t modes of burial o r something else) , the persona l qualitie s o f th e speaker an d th e settin g o f hi s meditatio n bein g simpl y device s for enforcin g the unifying dialectic ? O r is the poem better readbetter, that is , with respect t o the actua l shapin g principle o f its construction—as a n imitativ e lyric ? An d i f i t i s thi s latte r kin d of structure, i s the form on e in which the speake r i s conceived a s being merel y move d i n a certai n wa y b y hi s situatio n (a s i n Gray's "Od e o n a Distan t Prospec t o f Eto n College") , o r a s acting in a certain manne r in relation t o i t (a s i n MarvelT s "To His Coy Mistress"), or as deliberating morall y in a certai n stat e of mind on what is for him a serious issue in life? Weighing thes e possibilities (whic h giv e u s perhap s th e majo r form s whic h short serious imitative poem s can have), our second criti c would probably conclud e tha t i t i s th e las t possibilit y whic h bes t ex plains bot h th e constructe d matte r an d th e arrangemen t o f th e Elegy an d th e peculia r qualit y o f th e emotion s whic h Gray' s words an d rhythm s arous e i n us . H e migh t the n describ e th e Elegy a s an imitativ e lyri c of moral choice rathe r tha n o f actio n or of mood, representing a situation in which a virtuous, sensitive, and ambitiou s young man of undistinguished birth confront s th e possibility o f his deat h whil e stil l to "Fortune an d t o Fam e un known," and eventually , after muc h disturbance o f mind (hinte d at i n th e Swain' s descriptio n o f him) , reconcile s himsel f t o hi s probable fat e by reflecting that none of the reward s of successfu l ambition can "sooth th e dul l cold ea r o f Death," whic h come s as inevitably t o the grea t a s to th e obscure ; tha t a lif e passe d "fa r from th e madding crowd's ignobl e strife, " though circumscribin g the exercis e o f virtu e an d talent , ma y ye t b e a mean s o f pre serving innocence; an d tha t h e ca n at an y rate loo k forward to— what al l me n desir e a s a minimum—livin g o n i n th e memor y of at leas t on e friend , whil e hi s merit s an d frailtie s alik e repos e "in trembling hope " o n the boso m of his Fathe r an d hi s God. 236 Something like this , I thin k (pedanti c a s any brief statemen t of it mus t sound), is the answe r our secon d criti c woul d give ; bu t the point is that i n arriving at it he would be using his theory of possible principle s o f structure i n shor t poem s simpl y to furnis h him wit h th e distinction s h e need s i f h e i s no t t o substitut e a structure o f his ow n fo r th e structur e Gra y achieved. 176

The more extensive and discriminating such general knowledge, therefore, th e bette r th e critic' s hypothese s ar e likel y to be . Bu t it i s also the natur e o f this kin d o f theoretical knowledg e t o b e always inadequate, thoug h i n varying degrees, t o the particular s we us e it t o illuminate . W e ca n neve r kno w in advanc e al l th e possibilities, an d w e ca n never, consequently , for m a hypothesi s about a wor k o f an y artisti c complexit y o r eve n abou t man y simpler work s without making a shorter o r longer inductiv e lea p from th e words and sentences before u s to the peculia r combina tion o f universal s whic h defin e thei r poeti c form . An d tha t i s why, in this mode of criticism, we can make no separation except analytically betwee n theor y an d application , th e latte r bein g possible onl y i f the forme r alread y exist s at leas t up t o a certai n point an d th e forme r bein g constantl y refine d an d enlarge d a s we proceed with the latter. Application, however, is our main problem here, and its success depends upo n th e exten t t o whic h th e universa l term s o f ou r hypotheses an d th e perceive d an d fel t particular s o f th e text s for whic h they ar e constructe d ca n be mad e to fit together. Th e general condition s are two: first, our ability t o keep our explanatory formula e flui d an d t o submi t the m t o constan t revision s i n principle o r in detail before we transform the m into conclusions; and, second, our willingness to use systematically what ha s bee n called "th e metho d of multiple workin g hypotheses/'237 We have to remember, that is, that the value of a hypothesis is always relative, no t merel y to th e fact s i t i s intended t o explain , bu t t o al l the othe r varian t hypotheses which the sam e facts migh t sugges t if onl y we gave them a chance; that th e best hypothesis is simply the best amon g several possible hypotheses, relevant t o the same work or problem, with which we have actually compared it; an d that unles s w e mak e suc h comparison s a regula r par t o f ou r procedure, w e always court th e dange r o f missing either slightl y or altogethe r wha t ou r autho r wa s reall y attemptin g t o do . There ar e also , in addition t o these ver y general rules , several more particular criteria. Ou r ai m is an explanation and judgment of poeti c works in term s of their structura l causes ; hence , i n th e first place, th e necessit y of s o framing ou r hypothese s tha t the y are no t descriptiv e formula e merel y bu t clearl y impl y practica l artistic consequences , i n wha t th e writer s mus t o r canno t o r 177

might wel l d o in the ac t o f writing, fo r th e detail s of the work s they are being used to explain; that is the character , for example, of Aristotle' s definitio n o f tragi c plot-for m i n Poetics 13 , an d I have tried t o impart a similar character t o the statement s above about Macbeth. The idea l i s t o hav e a centra l principl e o f explanation tha t wil l enabl e u s t o se e precisely th e functiona l re lations between all the particular problems a writer has attempted to solv e and th e for m o f hi s wor k as a whole , eve n thoug h w e may hav e to conclude , in som e cases, that th e relatio n i s a very tenuous one. In th e secon d place, ou r ai m is an explanatio n an d judgment in terms adapted a s closely a s possible t o the peculia r structure an d powe r o f the wor k befor e us; henc e th e necessit y of tryin g to go beyond formulae tha t impl y the wor k as a whole or an y o f it s part s onl y generically ; a s when , fo r instance , w e neglect t o distinguis h betwee n th e differen t materia l structure s possible i n lyric s an d trea t a particula r lyri c withou t regar d t o such distinctions, or as when we discuss a work like Jane Austen's Emma merely as a comedy, failing t o see how little this ca n tel l us about its distinctive comic construction. In the third place , we aspire t o completenes s o f explanation ; an d thi s mean s tha t i n framing a hypothesi s abou t an y wor k w e mus t conside r every thing in the tex t as significant evidenc e that involve s in an y way a fre e choic e o n th e writer' s par t betwee n possibl e alternativ e things to be done with his materials or ways of doing them at any point. Th e hypothesi s mus t therefor e b e comple x rathe r tha n simple; it must recognize that th e sam e parts may have differen t functions, includin g tha t o f mer e adornment ; and , abov e all , i t cannot be arrive d a t b y givin g a privileged position , o n a priori grounds, to a particular variety of signs of artistic intention , in a complex work , t o th e exclusio n o f othe r an d ofte n conflictin g signs o f th e sam e thing. Thi s las t i s conspicuousl y th e erro r o f those interpreter s o f Macbeth wh o hav e inferre d th e centra l form o f tha t pla y chiefl y fro m th e though t an d imager y tha t serve t o emphasiz e th e "unnatural " characte r o f th e hero' s crimes an d th e inevitabilit y o f a jus t retribution , withou t at tempting t o correlat e wit h thi s th e man y signs , bot h i n th e construction of the plot an d in its extraordinarily artful represen tation, o f the distinctiv e moral quality of Macbeth's action s when 178

these are see n from th e inside . There will alway s be incomplete ness in any hypothesis, moreover, or in any criticism that follow s its use, that leaves out o f account, as one of the crucia l facts, th e peculiar sequenc e o f emotion s we fee l whe n w e rea d th e wor k unbiased b y critica l doctrine ; for , a s w e hav e seen , th e mos t important thing abou t an y poetic production is the characteristi c power it has to affec t u s in this definit e way rather tha n that. 238 Completeness, however , i s impossibl e withou t coherence ; henc e our hypotheses , i n th e fourt h place , must aim a t a maximu m of internal unity, on the assumptio n that, although many works are episodic an d althoug h man y predominantl y imitativ e works , for example, als o hav e didacti c o r topica l parts , thi s ca n bes t b e seen i f w e begi n b y presumin g tha t literar y artist s usuall y aim at creating wholes. The onl y proo f ther e ca n b e o f a hypothesi s abou t an y par ticular thin g lie s i n it s powe r o f completenes s an d coherenc e of explanation withi n th e limit s o f th e dat a i t make s significant — and thi s alway s relativel y t o th e othe r hypothese s pertinen t t o the sam e dat a wit h whic h i t ha s bee n compared . W e mus t b e guided, however , i n choosin g amon g alternative hypotheses , b y a furthe r criterion—th e classi c criterio n o f economy : tha t tha t hypothesis i s the best , othe r thing s bein g equal , whic h require s the fewes t supplementary hypotheses t o mak e it wor k or which entails the least amount of explaining away; it is no recommendation, thus , fo r Mr . Knights' s interpretatio n o f Macbeth tha t h e has t o sa y o f the emotio n arouse d i n mos t readers a s wel l a s i n Bradley b y Macbeth' s soliloquie s i n Ac t V , tha t thi s i s mer e "conventional 'sympath y fo r th e hero/ " whic h ough t no t t o b e allowed t o distor t tha t dialectica l syste m o f value s i n th e pla y that i s fo r hi m "th e patter n o f th e whole." 239 An d w e mus t b e careful, further , no t to construe our "data" in too narrow a sense and so be satisfie d wit h hypotheses that clearly conflict wit h fact s external to the works we are considering but relevant nevertheless to their interpretation; I mean not only such particular evidences as w e ca n ofte n fin d o f writers ' intentions—fo r example , Cole ridge's statements about the kind of poem he designed The Rime of the Ancient Mariner t o be—bu t als o such general probabilitie s with respec t t o th e work s of a give n perio d o r genr e o r wit h 179

respect t o poeti c work s o f an y kin d o r ag e a s ar e supplie d b y either ou r historica l knowledg e o r ou r commo n sense . I t i s no t likely, fo r instance , tha t a Shakespearea n traged y intende d fo r the popula r stag e shoul d reall y hav e a kin d o f basi c structur e which practisin g playwright s o f an y tim e woul d fin d i t difficul t or impossibl e t o mak e effective fo r thei r audiences. 240 No r i s i t ever a sensible thin g i n a critic to cultivat e indifferenc e t o common opinio n about th e work s he i s discussing. Th e opinio n may be wron g or, as often happens , i t ma y need t o be correcte d an d refined; bu t i n suc h conflicts—a t leas t whe n the y involv e th e larger aspect s an d effect s o f works—th e burde n o f proo f i s o n him. Fo r th e secret s o f ar t ar e not , lik e th e secret s o f nature , things lying deeply hid, inaccessible to the perception an d understanding o f al l wh o hav e no t mastere d th e specia l technique s their discover y requires . Th e criti c does , indeed , nee d specia l techniques, bu t fo r th e sak e o f buildin g upo n commo n sens e apprehensions o f his objects , no t o f supplantin g these ; an d fe w things hav e don e greate r har m t o th e practic e an d reput e o f literary criticis m i n recen t time s tha n ti e assumptio n tha t it s discoveries, lik e thos e o f th e physica l sciences , mus t gai n i n importance an d plausibilit y a s the y becom e mor e an d mor e paradoxical i n th e ancien t sens e o f that word : a s if—t o adap t a sharp saying of Professor Fran k Knight about social studies—now that everybod y i s agree d tha t natura l phenomen a ar e no t lik e works of art, the business of criticism must be to show that works of ar t ar e lik e natura l phenomena . It remains , finally, to conside r th e bearin g o f all thi s o n judgments o f poeti c value . An d th e firs t thin g t o observ e i s that , i f our hypothesi s concernin g the shapin g principl e o f an y wor k is adequate, i t wil l giv e us a basi s for sayin g with som e precisio n (as my example of Act V of Macbeth will perhaps suggest) wha t are the necessities whic h such a form impose s on any artist whose aim i s it s successfu l realizatio n i n hi s materials . Som e o f the m will be necessitie s commo n t o al l self-containe d poetic work s of no matte r wha t kind , suc h a s th e necessity , i f th e part s ar e t o cohere, of devices for effecting continuit y from beginnin g through middle t o end; other s wil l be mor e and mor e specifi c necessitie s determined b y th e natur e o f the for m w e assum e to hav e bee n 180

intended, such as the necessity , if a comic effect lik e that o f Tom Jones is to be obtained, of keeping the ridiculou s mistake s of th e hero fro m obscurin g th e sympatheti c trait s tha t mak e us wis h him ultimate good fortune. These will all be consequence s infer able from ou r basic definition of the form , an d ou r primar y task will be to trace them, in detail, throughout the particular s o f the work a t al l it s level s fro m plo t o r lyri c situatio n dow n t o th e imagery an d words . A kin d o f judgmen t o f valu e wil l thu s emerge i n th e ver y proces s o f ou r analysis : i f th e write r ha s indeed done , somehow , all th e essentia l thing s h e woul d nee d to d o o n the assumptio n that h e i s actuall y writin g th e kin d of work w e have defined , the n t o tha t exten t th e wor k is good , or at least not artistically bad ; an d we should have to use very little rhetoric i n additio n t o mak e this clear . Bu t thi s i s onl y half of the problem , fo r i t i s tru e o f mos t mediocr e writer s tha t the y usually do, in some fashion, a great part o r all of the thing s thei r particular form s require , bu t d o little more besides. Th e crucia l question, therefore , concern s not s o much the necessitie s o f th e assumed form a s its possibilities. Wha t is it that the writer might have done , ove r an d abov e th e minimu m requirement s o f hi s task, whic h h e ha s no t done , o r wha t i s i t tha t w e hav e no t expected him to do which he has yet triumphantly accomplished? These are the things our analyses ought peculiarly to attend t o if they ar e t o be adequat e t o their objects . The possible in this sense, as distinguished fro m th e necessary, is tha t whic h tend s t o perfect—t o warran t prais e o f a positiv e rather than a merely negative kind. We can know it in two ways: by havin g ou r mind s store d wit h memorie s o f wha t bot h th e most and th e leas t perfec t of artists hav e done when confronte d with simila r problems o f invention, representation, an d writing ; and by considering theoretically th e condition s under which any particular effec t aime d a t i n a give n wor k migh t b e bette r o r worse achieved—b y asking , for instance , wha t woul d i n genera l make a predicamen t lik e tha t o f To m Jone s o n th e discover y of hi s firs t affai r wit h Moll y seem mos t completel y comic , an d then discussin g th e episode , a s i t i s actuall y develope d b y Fielding, i n thes e terms. 241 Bot h method s ar e comparative , bu t the comparisons , i f the y ar e no t t o resul t i n unfai r imposition s 181

on the writer whos e work we are considering, must take accoun t of th e fac t that th e desirabl e o r admirable i n literatur e is neve r something absolute but i s always relative, i n an y given part of a work, to the requirements of the over-all form an d to the functio n of th e par t a s only one part alon g with man y others: forgettin g this, w e should make the mistak e of Mr. Joyce Gary's criti c an d demand neatnes s where clumsines s is wha t "belongs, " vividnes s and particularit y wher e faintnes s an d generalit y ar e needed , doing more than i s done when this would be doin g too much. The judgment s o f valu e w e shoul d thu s b e tryin g t o mak e would for this reason always be judgment s in kind, grounded on a prio r definitio n of the writer' s problem s a s problems peculiar , at leas t i n thei r concret e determination , t o th e forma l natur e of the work he is writing. They would also be judgments in terms of intentions—what i s it tha t th e write r aime d t o d o here an d ho w well has he succeeded i n doing it?—but th e intention s we should take as principles would not be those, except accidentally, which the write r ha d state d explicitl y befor e o r afte r writin g o r thos e which can be define d fo r th e write r b y saying that he mus t have intended t o write thi s wor k because this i s what he has written . The common objections to criticism based on "intention" in either of thes e sense s ar e unanswerable . The y d o no t hold , however , when w e identif y intentio n wit h th e hypothesize d for m o f a poetic wor k and the n conside r ho w full y wha t w e kno w of th e necessities and possibilities o f this form ar e achieved i n the work, on th e assumptio n that, i f th e wor k show s an y seriou s concern with ar t a t all , th e write r mus t have wishe d o r bee n willin g t o be judge d i n thi s way . There i s nothing unfai r t o th e write r i n such an approach, inasmuc h as we are not engage d i n a judicial process o f bringin g hi s wor k unde r a previousl y formulate d general theor y o f literary valu e but i n a fre e inquir y whos e aim is simply the discover y of those values in his work—among them , we always hope, unprecedented values—whic h he ha s bee n abl e to put there . They wil l alway s be value s incident t o the relatio n between the form of the work and its matter at all of its structural levels; an d i t wil l b e appropriat e t o interpre t wha t w e fin d i n terms o f a distinctio n betwee n thre e classe s o f works considered from thi s point of view: works that ar e well conceived as wholes 182

but contai n few parts th e forma l excellenc e o f which remains in our memory or invites us to another reading; work s that are rich in loca l virtues but hav e onl y a loos e or tenuou s over-all form ; and work s that satisf y Coleridge' s criterio n fo r a poem , tha t i t aims at "the production of as much immediate pleasure i n parts , as is compatible with the largest sum of pleasure in the whole/' 242 These las t ar e th e fe w relativel y perfec t production s i n th e various literar y kinds , an d a s betwee n th e othe r tw o w e shal l naturally prefer the second to the first. V

All methods , i n an y fiel d o f study , hav e thei r characteristi c corruptions whe n the y fal l int o th e hand s o f incompetent prac titioners. Th e corruptio n of the historica l criti c i s thu s typicall y some kind of antiquarian irrelevance, as when texts are annotate d more learnedl y tha n the y nee d t o b e o r wit h onl y a loos e per tinence t o th e problem s an d difficultie s the y present . Th e cor ruption o f th e literar y criti c i n th e mode s o f criticis m w e ar e chiefly familia r wit h a t th e presen t tim e i s most commonly per haps a cult of the paradoxical, along with which go, often enough , an addiction t o irresponsible analogizing , a preferenc e for metaphorical ove r litera l statement , an d a tendenc y t o substitut e rhetoric fo r inquir y a s a guidin g aim . The criti c whose portrait I a m drawing in thi s lectur e i s less likely, I think , t o giv e way to any of these perversions than to certai n other s which, though different i n kind, are no less to be deplored . I n his concern with form, h e ca n al l too easily become merely formalistic, attendin g less t o wha t give s life t o poem s than t o th e mechanis m of thei r structural parts ; i n hi s concer n wit h poeti c wholes , h e ca n b e tempted t o forge t tha t th e whole s have no existenc e apart fro m the word s throug h whic h the y ar e mad e actual ; i n hi s concern with developmen t o f theory , h e ca n readil y persuad e himsel f that the enunciation o f theory, however well established, i s more important tha n th e solutio n of th e concret e problem s t o whic h it i s relevant an d s o fall into a methodological pedantr y as ! bad as th e factua l pedantr y o f the antiquarians . I d o not think, however, that these are inevitable faults , given

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a certai n flexibility of mind, a sensitivit y t o literar y particulars , an abilit y t o resist th e spiri t o f routine an d self-satisfaction , and an understandin g o f th e righ t relatio n betwee n method s an d problems. And when they ar e no t allowe d t o distor t th e results , I shoul d conten d tha t th e approac h I hav e bee n describin g i s capable o f givin g u s mor e nearl y adequat e insight s int o th e structural principles an d characteristic s o f poetic works than an y of th e othe r modes of critical languag e with which we have compared it . We may say of these other methods, in terms borrowed from ou r own , tha t wha t the y hav e chiefl y concentrate d on , i n their analyse s of structure , has bee n th e matte r o f poetic work s and it s generi c figuration s an d technique s rathe r tha n thei r forms. Thes e ar e essentia l aspect s o f th e problem , but the y ar e aspects wit h whic h w e too can deal . We ca n conside r ho w an y element in a poem "works with th e othe r element s to creat e th e effect intende d b y th e poet" ; w e ca n discus s th e "meaning " o f poems i n th e sens e o f th e though t tha t i s presuppose d b y o r expressed throug h any of their characteristic device s of statement and representation; we can treat of images and patterns of images and o f the subtletie s o f poetic dictio n an d rhythm ; w e ca n find a plac e fo r what is sound in the distinctio n betwee n "structure " and "texture" ; and w e can make use of all that the "archetypal " critics ca n tell us about the cultural and psychological universals which poems imply. We can do all these things; bu t w e can also do more , and a s a consequenc e be abl e t o d o these thing s wit h greater precision an d intelligibility. For w e possess what these othe r method s have conspicuously lacked: a mean s o f isolatin g an d definin g thos e principle s o f structure in individual poems which distinguish them fro m othe r poems o r kind s o f poem s and determin e thu s i n highl y specifi c ways what their distinctiv e element s are an d th e artisti c reason s that justify the particular configuration s we observe them to have. In contrast with our constructive and differentiating procedure, the procedures o f these othe r critica l school s have been , i n varyin g degrees, generalizin g an d reductive . Ther e i s reduction , an d hence a los s o f causa l particularity , wheneve r th e onl y term s critics use in talking about literary structures are terms applicable primarily to the write r a s distinct i n some way from hi s produc t 184

(as i n F . R . Leavis ' discussion s o f novel s a s direc t reflection s of th e "complexity " of the novelists ' "interests") o r whenever th e only sourc e o f term s i s th e psycholog y o f reader s (a s i n Mis s Bodkin's definitio n o f the "archetypa l pattern " of rebirth evoke d for he r by The Ancient Mariner): wha t can be discovered i n such cases is merely a kind of structure tha t man y poems can have, o r even other specie s o f writing. Ther e i s reduction similarl y in an y method tha t draw s its only structural formula e from suc h thing s as th e commo n figures of poetical o r rhetorica l languag e (a s i n Cleanth Brooks and the Shakespearea n critic s who speak of plays as "metaphors"), o r th e non-poeti c form s o f myt h an d ritual , o r the suppose d pattern s o f psychi c activity . An d ther e i s stil l re duction, thoug h o f a les s extrem e variety , i n th e critic s wh o equate poeti c structure , i n al l excep t th e mos t genera l sens e of "aesthetic pattern, " exclusivel y wit h th e convention s o f verba l form o r themati c arrangemen t whic h poet s deriv e fro m earlie r poetic tradition ; i n th e critics , again , wh o loo k fo r fixe d an d unitary definition s o f th e poeti c genre s an d discus s individua l tragedies, comedies , epics , novels , an d lyric s a s mor e o r les s typical o r perfect examples of these various quasi-Platonic forms ; in th e critic s wh o identif y th e principle s o f structur e i n poem s with the "themes" whic h ar e either thei r germina l ideas o r moral bases o r thei r underlyin g scheme s o f probability ; an d i n th e many critics , lastly , wh o fix their attentio n o n som e part o f th e total structure--o n on e phase o f the actio n o r o n the framewor k of it s representation, o n a principal character , a "key" passage of thought, a conspicuou s train o f imagery—an d procee d t o deriv e from thi s their formul a fo r th e whole . What thes e critic s al l leav e ou t i s thus th e ver y principle w e have take n a s ou r starting-point : th e shapin g principl e o f for m and emotiona l "power" withou t which n o poem coul d com e into existence a s a beautifu l an d effectiv e whol e o f a determinat e kind. We ca n therefore talk with a fullnes s an d precisio n o f distinction impossibl e t o the m abou t th e particula r an d widel y variant relation s whic h exis t i n differen t poem s betwee n thei r formal an d their material natures . W e are not limited t o any one conception o f poeti c unit y o r t o an y on e se t o f concept s fo r defining structure . W e ar e no t force d t o spea k o f th e workin g 185

together o f th e part s o f a poe m merel y i n term s o f simpl e con trarieties of theme or tone or in a vocabulary o f which th e mos t exact words are expressions like "goes with," is "associated with, " or is "related to" or "carries out, " "reflects, " "repeats, " "qualifies," "balances," "contrasts with, " "contradicts," and s o on. We are not compelled, i n order to show our recognition tha t th e best poetr y is not indifferen t t o thought o r "meaning," t o interpre t al l poeti c masterpieces i n whic h idea s ar e containe d o r evoke d a s i f the y were composition s of the sam e order a s The Divine Comedy, or , at an y rate , i n som e sens e o r i n som e degree , metaphorica l o r symbolic expressions, or, at the very least, "studies" of something or other . W e shall b e awar e that ther e ar e indee d man y poeti c works to which such descriptions ca n be applied, but w e shall go on th e assumption—whic h al l experienc e an d literar y histor y surely warrants—tha t idea s ca n functio n i n poem s i n radicall y different ways : sometime s a s source s o f inspiration , sometime s as formal an d shapin g ends , sometimes as means for constitutin g the characters , purposes , o r state s o f min d o f th e dramatis personae, sometimes as choric devices for enhancing or universalizing the actions ; an d th e distinction s o f ou r theoreti c analysis , an d notably ou r distinctio n betwee n imitativ e an d non-imitativ e forms, will enable us to discriminate these various uses when we come upon them and t o judg e of the significanc e of the though t in an y poe m or passag e accordin g a s on e o r anothe r o f them i s its primar y cause . An d finally, in dealin g wit h th e problem s of imagery that have been s o prominent during the past generation , especially i n the criticism of Shakespeare, we are not restricted t o either a merely material classificatio n and psychological interpre tation o f images (a s in Mis s Spurgeon and her followers ) o r to a merely generalized an d indefinit e discussion of their function s i n drama (a s i n some of the mor e recent Shakespeareans 243): wit h our basic distinctio n o f object, manner, and mean s and ou r more specific device s fo r relating th e parts o f individual works to thei r controlling forms , w e should be able , a t th e ver y least, t o introduce greate r particularit y an d artisti c intelligibilit y int o th e subject tha n ar e apparen t i n most of the curren t discussions. I loo k upon thi s approach , therefore , a s one likely t o repa y a more concentrated effor t o f research an d applicatio n tha n i t ha s 186

received i n modern times. It i s not a method that lend s itself to o easily, perhaps, t o the immediat e purposes of reviewers an d pro fessional critic s o f curren t productions , bu t i t i s not withou t it s utility eve n here: ther e mus t be man y reader s o f suc h criticis m who woul d b e gratefu l fo r mor e precis e indication s tha n the y usually ge t o f wha t ar e th e forma l a s wel l a s th e materia l an d technical noveltie s t o be found i n the lates t seriou s novels, plays , and volume s o f verse , an d abov e al l o f th e kind s o f "peculia r pleasures" the y ar e fitte d t o giv e u s an d why . Th e metho d i s undoubtedly better suited, however , to the more ample and con sidered criticis m of th e literatur e o f the pas t o r of contemporary literature when thi s i s made a n objec t o f elaborated study ; an d there i s excellen t reaso n t o thin k tha t th e writin g o f literar y history in particular migh t be radically transformed , and to grea t advantage, throug h th e inclusio n o f what I hav e calle d th e immediate artisti c cause s o f literar y production s alon g wit h th e relatively mor e externa l an d remot e cause s t o whic h historian s of literatur e hav e mainl y confine d themselves . And ther e i s another realm in which these principles migh t b e expected t o yiel d peculia r benefits—tha t o f literar y education . They can give us, for one thing, the basis of a teachable discipline of readin g and appreciatio n whic h would be exempt , on the on e hand, from mer e impressionism and th e evocation of irresponsible opinion and , on the othe r hand, fro m th e impositio n o n student s of ready-mad e literar y doctrine s o r canon s o f taste . It s essenc e would b e simpl y th e communicatio n t o student s o f a compre hensive schem e o f questions t o b e aske d abou t al l th e differen t kinds o f literar y work s the y migh t b e studyin g an d o f criteri a for discussin g the appropriatenes s an d adequac y o f the answer s in th e ligh t o f th e particular s o f text s an d o f th e students ' re sponses a s huma n being s t o wha t i s goin g o n i n them . Th e development o f such a discipline, centred , a s it would be, i n th e statement an d fre e compariso n o f hypotheses , woul d hel p t o bring into literary studie s something they have commonl y lacked —a subject-matter, namely , in the sens e not merel y of facts but of compendent genera l concept s fo r thei r interpretation ; concepts , moreover, tha t ca n b e translate d int o habit s o f observatio n an d reflection suc h a s will ten d t o mak e the studen t independen t o f 187

his teacher: a potential scholar in criticism rather tha n a disciple or member of a school, and a scholar who would do credit t o his training precisel y i n proportio n a s h e wa s abl e t o correc t an d develop furthe r the things he had been taught . I thin k that thi s could b e don e b y a kin d o f practica l an d inductiv e teachin g which woul d kee p th e student' s min d centre d o n th e concret e aspects o f work s an d hi s feeling s abou t the m rathe r tha n o n theoretical matters a s such and whic h would , a t th e sam e time, build u p i n hi m a n increasingl y clea r understandin g o f what i t means t o giv e a reasone d an d warrante d answe r t o a critica l question an d also , t o a n exten t greate r tha n ha s bee n commo n in th e teachin g o f criticism , o f how essentia l i t is , if th e answe r is to be valid, that it accord with whatever truths the student has learned i n the linguistic an d historical parts of his education. For it is hard to see how the training I am suggesting could be carried on successfully without bringing criticis m an d thes e othe r disci plines into closer mutual relations than have existed between them for a long time. We migh t expect , moreover , tha t suc h trainin g woul d en courage a kind o f appreciation o f literary masterpiece s tha t ha s been largel y neglecte d i n th e critica l traditio n upo n whic h ou r teaching ha s hitherto, i n th e main , been founded . Th e strengt h of tha t traditio n ha s bee n it s sensitivenes s t o th e qualitie s an d values which literary works share with one another or with other modes o f expression—t o thes e rathe r tha n t o th e differentiate d characteristics o f works which ar e wha t the y ar e b y virtu e pri marily o f their writers ' individual act s of poeti c making . And i t is not at all to minimize the importance of analogies and common principles i n criticis m t o sugges t tha t an y literar y cultur e i s incomplete that does not lead also to a discriminating understanding, suc h a s th e trainin g I propos e i s suite d t o give , o f th e peculiar principle s of construction that contribute to make poetry the complex and richly diversified experienc e we all feel it to be. We may say indeed tha t wha t chiefly distinguishe s the geniu s of literary study , a s o f th e humanitie s in general , fro m th e geniu s of scienc e i s that i t naturall y aspires t o thi s kin d o f completion , not being permanentl y satisfied wit h reductions of the individual and the specific to the common, and perpetually feelin g the need

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for distinction s and methods that will help us to do justice to th e inventiveness of man an d th e uniquenes s of his works. And alon g wit h thi s woul d g o a thir d benefit , i n the capacit y of our principles t o maintain the integrit y of literary appreciatio n without cuttin g i t of f formalistically fro m th e Hf e which literar y works represen t o r attemp t t o guide . I t i s difficul t t o kee p thi s balance i n an y o f the critica l language s i n whic h th e basi c dis tinction fo r th e analysi s and judgmen t of works is som e variant of th e ancien t dichotom y of verba an d res; fo r i f w e distinguis h thus between art and what art expresses, between poetic language and poeti c thought , structur e an d idea , techniqu e an d meaning, symbol an d concept , "presentment " an d th e mora l "interests" of writers, w e inevitabl y ten d t o regar d on e o r th e othe r o f thes e two aspects as primary in importance. Our teaching o f literature , consequently, in so far as it is 'literary/* appears far removed from common experienc e an d huma n emotion , an d i n s o fa r a s i t throws th e emphasi s on content, on questions of knowledge an d behaviour, run s the ris k of becoming merely an amateu r branch of ethics , psychology , sociology, anthropology, or th e histor y of ideas. These disadvantage s ver y largely disappear, I think , when we bring t o th e discussio n o f poeti c work s ou r radicall y differen t distinction o f matte r an d form . Fo r for m a s w e conceiv e i t i s simply tha t whic h give s definit e shape , emotiona l power , an d beauty t o th e material s o f man' s experienc e ou t o f whic h th e writer ha s compose d his work. Hence i t canno t be separate d a s mere "form" fro m th e matte r in which i t exists , nor ca n w e tal k about i t adequatel y (a s I hav e trie d t o illustrat e i n m y dis cussions of Macbeth an d o f Gray's Elegy) withou t talking at th e same tim e abou t th e huma n qualitie s o f th e actions , persons , feelings, an d thought s th e wor k brings befor e u s an d th e ver y human, but n o les s poetic , response s these evok e in ou r minds . There ca n thus be n o good "literary" criticism , in this language, that does not presuppose a constant making of moral and psychological discrimination s an d a constan t concer n wit h nuance s of thought, a s wel l a s wit h subtletie s o f languag e an d technique ; what keeps it 'literary" or "poetic" and prevents it fro m degener ating into either "studie s i n character" o r excursions into philoso189

phy an d socia l histor y i s the directio n impose d o n al l ou r ques tions about the "content " of works by ou r hypotheses concernin g their shapin g principle s o f form . W e ca n agree , therefore , wit h the critics who hold tha t we ought to deal with poetry a s poetry and not another thing, an d we can agree no less with thos e who insist tha t on e o f th e mai n task s o f criticis m i s t o sho w th e "relevance" o f poem s t o "life" ; onl y these , fo r us , ar e no t tw o tasks bu t one . An d I woul d stat e a furthe r poin t i n th e sam e connection, th e bearin g o f which wil l b e easil y eviden t t o thos e who have grow n impatient wit h th e curren t tendenc y t o reduc e all questions of morals and politics t o questions o f ideologies an d beliefs. The counterpart o f this "rationalism" i n literary studie s i s the assumptio n tha t "relevanc e t o life " i n poetr y i s a matte r primarily o f "themes " an d "imaginativ e visions, " s o tha t n o imaginative wor k ca n be take n seriousl y fro m whic h w e canno t extract a "total meaning" over and abov e the huma n particular s it exhibits, which we then set forth a s what the work is intending to say . Fro m thi s narrowin g o f th e scop e o f literar y value s t o such value s a s onl y earnes t moder n intellectual s ca n thin k o f greater importanc e tha n th e spectacl e o f individua l me n doin g and suffering , w e have , fortunately , a n effectiv e wa y o f escap e in ou r distinctio n betwee n imitativ e an d didacti c forms . W e can accor d a prope r appreciation , i n thei r ow n terms, t o works of whic h th e forma l principle s ar e clearl y ideas . But we ar e fre e to discus s the others , includin g notabl y th e tragedie s o f Shakespeare, i n a wa y tha t full y respect s thei r seriousness , an d th e implication o f universals in th e workin g out o f their plots , with out bein g committe d t o th e dehumanizin g suppositio n tha t th e moral habit s an d disposition s o f individua l person s an d th e qualities an d circumstance s of their action s are thing s les s valu able fo r us , a s me n an d citizens , t o contemplat e i n literatur e than th e pal e abstraction s b y whic h the y hav e been overlai d i n the prevailin g mode s of interpretation . An d s o w e migh t con tribute not only to a more discriminating understanding o f what literature a s literature can do but t o a kind of training in concrete moral an d socia l perception , unbiase d b y doctrine , suc h a s al l who liv e i n a fre e societ y woul d b e th e bette r fo r having . 190

VI When all this i s said, however, it is still true tha t what I hav e been talking about in this lecture is only one out of many possible legitimate approache s t o th e questio n o f poetic structure , no t t o speak of th e innumerabl e other question s wit h whic h critic s ca n profitably concer n themselves . I shoul d no t wan t t o leav e th e impression, therefore , tha t I thin k i t th e onl y mode o f criticis m seriously worth cultivation at the present tim e by eithe r teacher s of literatur e o r critics , bu t simpl y tha t it s development , alon g with th e others , migh t hav e man y fruitful consequence s fo r ou r teaching an d criticis m generally . What distinguishe s i t fro m th e other modes is its preoccupation with the immediat e constructive problems o f writers in th e makin g of individual works and wit h the artisti c reasonin g necessaril y involve d i n thei r successfu l solution; an d it s grea t clai m to consideratio n i s that i t ca n dea l with thes e matter s mor e precisel y an d adequately , an d wit h a more complet e reliance o n th e canon s of inductiv e inquiry , un hampered b y doctrina l preconceptions , tha n an y o f th e othe r existing critica l languages . I t ca n giv e us , consequently , a bod y of primar y literary fact s abou t literar y works , in thei r aspec t a s concrete wholes, in the light of which we can judge the relevanc e and validity—or see the precise bearing—of suc h observations an d statements o f valu e a s resul t fro m th e applicatio n t o th e sam e works of other critical principles an d procedures: if the structura l principles o f Macbeth o r o f Gray' s Elegy ar e actuall y wha t w e have take n the m t o be , the n whateve r els e ma y b e trul y sai d about thes e sam e works, in answe r to othe r question s o r i n th e context o f othe r way s o f reasonin g about them , mus t obviously be capable o f being brought into harmony with this prior factua l knowledge of the distinctiv e ho w an d wh y o f their construction . Here i s something , therefore , whic h critic s wh o prefe r a mor e generalizing o r a mor e speculativ e approac h t o literar y work s can hardl y neglec t i f the y wis h t o b e responsibl e student s o f literature rathe r tha n merel y rhetorician s ben t o n exploitin g favourite these s a t an y cost . Fo r thoug h i t i s tru e enough , fo r example, tha t wha t writer s d o i s conditione d b y thei r persona l lives and complexes , their socia l circumstances, and thei r literar y 191

traditions, ther e i s alway s a ris k tha t exclusiv e explanation s of literary peculiaritie s i n terms of such remoter causes will collaps e and see m absurd a s soon as we consider , for an y work to whic h they have been applied, what are the immediate artistic exigencies which it s write r face d because o f his choic e o f for m o r manne r in thi s particula r work. 244 Thes e exigencie s ca n neve r b e safel y disregarded s o long a s th e geneti c relatio n betwee n ar t an d it s sources an d material s i n lif e remain s th e ver y indirec t relatio n we know it is; and it is perhaps not the least of the utilities t o be found i n the criticis m o f forms tha t its cultivation, in a context of the man y othe r kind s o f critica l inquiry , woul d hel p t o kee p critics o f al l school s constantly reminde d o f thei r existenc e an d importance. But th e othe r kind s ough t t o b e there . O f th e trut h abou t literature, no critical languag e can ever have a monopoly or even a distan t approac h t o one; an d ther e ar e obviousl y many things which th e languag e I hav e been speakin g o f cannot do . I t i s a method no t a t al l suited , a s i s criticis m i n th e gran d lin e o f Longinus, Coleridge, an d Matthe w Arnold, to the definitio n an d appreciation o f those genera l qualitie s o f writing—mirrorin g th e souls of writers—for th e sak e of which most of us rea d o r a t an y rate return t o what we have read. It i s a method that necessarily abstracts fro m histor y and hence requires t o be supplemented by other ver y differen t procedure s i f w e ar e t o replac e th e work s we study in the circumstance s and tempe r o f their time s and se e them a s expression s and force s a s well a s object s of art . I t i s a method, above all, that completely fails, because of its essentially differentiating character , t o give us insights into the larger moral and politica l value s of literature o r into an y o f the othe r organic relations wit h huma n natur e an d huma n experienc e i n whic h literature i s involved . An d ye t wh o wil l sa y tha t thes e ar e no t as compelling considerations for criticis m as anything comprised in the proble m o f poetic structur e a s we have been discussin g it in thes e lectures ? The mora l is surely that w e ought t o hav e a t our command , collectivel y a t least , a s man y differen t critica l methods a s ther e ar e distinguishabl e majo r aspect s i n th e con struction, appreciation, an d use of literary works. The multiplicity of critica l language s i s therefor e somethin g not t o b e deplore d 192

but rathe r rejoice d in, a s making possible a fuller exploratio n of OUT subject in its total extent than we could otherwise attain; an d for m y part I hav e a s fon d a regar d fo r Longinu s an d fo r th e masters o f historica l criticis m a s I hav e fo r Aristotle , an d a s strong a convictio n o f thei r continuin g utility . No r wil l ther e ever cease to be employmen t for criticism o f the les s rigorou s o r more imaginativ e types—i n directin g attentio n t o aspect s o f poems which only a new model or analogy can bring int o view , in formulating and promotin g new ideals o f poetic excellenc e o r new poeti c styles , in suggestin g t o poet s unrealize d possibilitie s in subject-matte r an d language , i n relatin g poetry , fo r readers , to larg e non-poetic human contexts of emotion an d meaning , i n keeping th e lif e o f poetr y an d o f tast e fro m declinin g int o orthodoxy an d routine . The bes t hop e fo r criticis m i n th e future , indeed , lie s i n th e perpetuation o f this multiplicity ; nothin g coul d be mor e damaging tha n th e practica l succes s o f an y effor t t o defin e authorita tively the frontiers and problems of our subject or to assign to each of it s variant languages a determinate place i n a single hierarch y of critica l modes . Better fa r tha n tha t th e chao s o f school s an d splinter partie s w e have with us now! But there need be no such choice; fo r th e grea t obstacl e t o advanc e in criticis m i s no t th e existence of independent group s of critics each pursuing separat e interests, but th e spirit o f exclusive dogmatism which keeps them from learnin g what the y migh t fro m on e another ; an d fo r tha t the onl y effectiv e remedy , I think , i s t o tak e t o hear t th e tw o lessons which the persistence throughout history of many distinct critical languages ought to teach us. The first is the lesson of selfknowledge: w e can attempt t o become more clearly awar e than we hav e usuall y bee n o f jus t wha t i t i s tha t w e ourselve s ar e doing—and why—whe n w e mak e critical statement s o f any kind , and at the same time try to extend that clarity , in as intellectuall y sympathetic a way as possible, t o the statement s o f other critics , and especially t o those that appear t o be mos t inconsistent wit h our own . And it wil l b e al l th e easie r t o attai n thi s self-under standing, with its natural discouragement s to doctrinal prejudice , if w e also learn th e secon d lesson, an d com e habitually t o thin k of th e variou s critica l language s o f th e pas t an d present , in 193

eluding ou r own , n o longe r a s riva l attempt s t o foreclos e th e "real" or "only profitable" truth abou t poetry, s o that we have to choose amon g the m a s w e choos e amon g religiou s dogma s o r political causes , bu t simpl y a s tool s o f ou r trade—a s s o many distinct conceptua l an d logica l means , eac h wit h it s peculia r capacities an d limitations , fo r solvin g trul y th e man y distinc t kinds o f problem s whic h poetry , i n it s magnificen t variet y o f aspects, presents to our view.245

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NOTES 1. Cleant h Brook s an d Rober t Pen n Warren , Understanding Poetry (rev. ed., Ne w York, 1950) , pp. xlix-1 ; Cleant h Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn: Studies in the Structure of Poetry (Ne w York , 1947) , p . 178 . 2. Cleant h Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn, pp . 179 , 191 . 3. Fo r example , John Dove r Wilson , i n hi s editio n o f Macbeth (Cam bridge, 1947) , pp. lii-lxviii. 4. Fo r example , Kennet h Muir , i n hi s editio n o f Macbeth (London , 1951), pp. 1-liv. 5. Ro y Walker , The Time is Free: A Study of "Macbeth" (London , 1949); see especially pp. xiv-xv, 64 ff. 6. Harol d Goddard , The Meaning of Shakespeare (Chicago , 1951) , p. 520 . 7. L . C . Knights , "Ho w Man y Childre n Ha d Lad y Macbeth? " i n Explorations (London , 1946), pp. 16-36. 8. G . Wilson Knight , The Imperial Theme (London , 1939) , p. 153 . 9. I . A. Richards, Principles of Literary Criticism (London, 1925) , p. 6 . 10. Fo r two recent suggestions of this kind see Murray Krieger, "Creativ e Criticism: A Broader View of Symbolism," Sewanee Review, LVIII (1950) , 36-51, an d R . P. Blackmur , "Th e Lio n an d th e Honeycomb, " Hudson Review, III (1951) , 494-507. 11. Se e hi s articl e o n "Language " i n th e Encyclopaedia of the Social Sciences, IX (1933), 155-68. 12. I borro w thes e illustration s fro m Warne r A . Wick , "Th e 'Political ' Philosophy o f Logical Empiricism," Philosophical Studies, II (1951) , 51-52. 13. Fo r othe r statements , i n somewha t differen t terms , o f this view, se e Critics and Criticism: Ancient and Modern, ed . R . S . Cran e (Chicago , 1952), pp . 5-12 , 148-49 , 174-75 , 463-545 , 546-52 . Se e als o Richar d McKeon, "Philosoph y an d Method, " Journal of Philosophy, XLVII I (1951) , 653-82; "Semantics, Science , and Poetry," Modern Philology, XLI X (1952) , 145-59; and Freedom and History (Ne w York, 1952). 14. Se e Explorations, pp. 1-18 , an d especially pp. 1 , 4, 10. 15. A . C . Bradley , Shakespearean Tragedy (2n d ed. , London , 1929) , p.l.

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16. Quote d by Knights, Explorations, p. 4. 17. Biographia literaria, ed . J . Shawcros s (Oxford , 1907) , II , 12 . 18. Se e McKeon, i n Critics and Criticism, pp. 149-68 . 19. Se e his "Poetry : A Note in Ontology, " i n The World's Body (Ne w York, 1938), pp. 111-42. 20. Se e Elder Olson, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 235-59. 21. Joh n Crow e Ransom , The New Criticism (Norfolk , Conn. , 1941) , pp. 270-71. 22. Se e especially pp . 36-38, 41-46, 111-42, 181-83, 195-211, 278-95. 23. A n Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, Sectio n I . 24. Fo r example s of thi s latte r mod e of definition , see Bradley , Shakespearean Tragedy, Lectur e I ; Mau d Bodkin, Archetypal Patterns in Poetry: Psychological Studies of Imagination (London , 1934), chapter 1 ; E. M . W . Tifiyard, Shakespeare's Last Plays (London , 1938) , pp . 16-20 ; Northro p Frye, Kenyon Review, XIII (1951) , 103-10, 543-62; Maynar d Mack , Yale Review, XLI (1951), 84-85. 25. Warne r A. Wick, Philosophical Studies, II, 53 . For a view analogous in par t t o thi s se e R . G . Collingwood , A n Autobiography (Oxford , 1939) , especially pp. 29-43, 57-76. 26. Rudol f Carnap , "Empiricism , Semantics , an d Ontology, " Revue Internationale de philosophic, IV (1950) , 20-40. 27. Fo r on e recent versio n o f this positio n se e Frederic k A . Pottle, The Idiom of Poetry (Ithaca , N.Y., 1941; rev . ed. , 1946) , especiall y Lectur e II , "The Doctrin e of Critical Relativism. " 28. The Armed Vision: A Study in the Methods of Modern Literary Criticism (Ne w York, 1948), pp. ix, 395-407. 29. Hudson Review, III, 495-98 . Cf . also John Crow e Ransom, Kenyon Review, XIV (1952), 656-59. 30. Cf . Critics and Criticism, pp. 100-5. 31. Cf . G . Edison , "Plat o an d Freud, " University of Toronto Quarterly, XVI (1946) , especially pp. 12-15. 32. The Wheel of Fire (London , 1949) , pp . 32-38 . A similar , thoug h less drastic, techniqu e o f "explaining away " in th e interes t o f an "abstract" hypothesis can be see n in L . C . Knights's remark s on Bradley's vie w of th e emotional effects o f Macbeth; se e Explorations, p. 36 . 33. Se e Critics and Criticism, pp. 56-63, 84-107. 34. Cf . Hoyt Trowbridge, Comparative Literature, III (1951) , 360-61. 35. Contributions to Analytical Psychology, trans , by H. G. and Gar y F . Baynes (London , 1945), pp. 229-34, 360-61. 36. A n Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, Sectio n I . 37. J . I . M . Stewart , Shakespeare Survey, V (1952) , 130 , apropo s of Clifford Leech , Shakespeare's Tragedies and Other Studies in SeventeenthCentury Drama (London, 1950). 38. The World's Body, pp. 297-98. 39. F . R. Leavis, Revaluation (New York, 1947), pp. 204-7. 40. Cf . especially Posterior Analytics i. 7, 9, 32; also De Anima i. 1. 41. Poetics 6.1450*5-7; 19.1456*35. 42. Th e followin g account i s greatly indebte d t o th e variou s discussions of th e Poetics collected i n Critics and Criticism; se e especiall y pp . 160-68 , 176 ff., 463 ff., 552-66. My analysis would have gained i n several importan t

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respects ha d I bee n able , befor e completin g th e revisio n o f thes e lectures , to read Elde r Olson' s paper o n "The Poeti c Metho d of Aristotle: It s Power s and Limitations, " English Institute Essays, 1951 (Ne w York , 1952) , pp . 70-94. 43. Cf . Poetics 5. 1449*18. 44. Nicomachean Ethics ii. 2. 1103»>27-28. 45. Ibid. i. 1. 1094*5; ii. 4. 1105*27 ff. 46. O n this divisio n o f the science s se e especiall y Metaphysics vi . 1 . 47. O n the notio n o f "concret e wholes " an d th e kin d o f definition s ap propriate t o th e investigatio n o f them , se e Physics ii . 2 ; De Anima i . 1 . 403a25-b8; On the Parts of Animals i . 1 . 640 b18-29; Metaphysics vi . 1 . 1025*30-32; vii. 3. 1029*3-5, 10-11; viii. 2. 48. Cf . De Anima ii . 1 . 412*10-413*4 ; On the Parts of Animals i. 1 . 642*10 ff. 49. Metaphysics vii . 7. 50. Cf . Posterior Analytics i . 4-6 passim. 51. On the Parts of Animals i. 1. 639*24-640*37. 52. Ibid. 642*10 ff. 53. Ibid. 640*5 ff.; cf. Physics i. 4-5. 54. Metaphysics vii . 7. 55. Se e McKeon, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 149-59 . 56. Physics ii. 8. 199*15-17; cf. Meteorology iv . 3. 381*6. On the whol e question see McKeon, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 160-68 , and Olson , ibid., pp. 553-54. 57. I t shoul d b e observe d tha t fo r Aristotl e rhetori c i s not, lik e poetry , an ar t o f makin g determinate kind s o f object s bu t a facult y (dynamis): i t is the facult y o r power of discovering an d usin g with respec t t o an y subjec t the availabl e means of persuasion. The discussio n begins, therefore, no t wit h certain actualize d forms , o f which i t seek s the necessar y interna l conditions , but wit h a consideratio n o f the rang e of subjects abou t whic h w e ma y seek to persuade , th e genera l mean s o f persuasion , an d th e land s o f audience s and ends that determine the major types of persuasion (deliberative, forensic, and epideictic) . I t the n proceeds , i n Boo k i , t o se t fort h th e kind s o f premises the speake r ought to see k for eac h o f these thre e types ; i n Book ii, to explai n how th e emotion s of audience s ma y b e arouse d o r directe d an d how argument s may be constructed ; an d i n Boo k iii, to dea l wit h question s of styl e and organization , which i s the closes t approac h possible , i n rhetoric , to th e form s wit h whic h poetic s begins . Th e constitutiv e part s o f an y rhetorical compositio n are consequentl y three: though t (dianoia), includin g all th e device s o f argument ; styl e (lexis); an d arrangemen t (taxis); th e principle o f construction, in an y speech, bein g th e particula r thesis , whethe r deliberative, forensic , o r epideictic , concernin g whic h i t seek s t o persuad e its specia l audience . I shoul d conjectur e tha t ha d Aristotl e deal t anywher e with didacti c poem s i t v/oul d hav e bee n i n term s o f som e such analyti c a s this, wit h th e majo r distinction s thos e o f argumentativ e mean s rathe r tha n of forma l ends . 58. Cf . On the Parts of Animals i . 1 . 641*18-33 . Se e Politics i. 2 . 1253*24: al l thing s ar e define d b y thei r workin g (ergon) an d powe r (dynamis). 59. Poetics 5. 1449*35.

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60. Nicomachean Ethics vi. 4. 61. Cf . Northrop Frye, University of Toronto Quarterly, XIX (1949) , 14. 62. Th e distinctio n ha s bee n blurre d throug h th e moder n extensio n o f the ter m "convention " t o includ e anythin g tha t impose s restriction s o r necessities o n a n artis t onc e h e ha s accepte d i t a s a kin d o f thin g t o b e done; thus the choic e of verse rather tha n pros e or of a dramatic rathe r tha n a narrativ e manne r is ofte n spoke n o f a s a choic e betwee n differen t "conventions"; an d poetry or art itsel f i s said to be a "convention" o n the groun d that i t necessaril y involve s distortion s o f life . I n a stricte r meanin g o f th e term, "convention " denote s an y characteristi c o f th e matte r o r techniqu e of a poem the reaso n for the presenc e of which i n the poe m cannot be inferre d from th e necessitie s o f th e for m envisage d bu t mus t b e sough t i n th e historical circumstance s of its composition—tha t i s to say , in th e habitua l prac tice o f other writers or in a prevailing opinion as to wha t ough t t o b e done . The choru s i n Gree k traged y i s a conventio n in thi s sense , since , althoug h the choru s serve s a n artisti c functio n o r function s i n th e tragedie s whic h employ it, that functio n coul d be—an d was in later times , as by Shakespear e —realized i n quit e differen t materia l ways . I n relatio n t o th e natur e an d inherent necessitie s of an y kind of poetry a convention is thus a n accidenta l attribute, howeve r long-lived or influential it may be. 63. Nicomachean Ethics i. 1. 1094al-2. 64. Se e also Poetics 26 ad fin. 65. Fo r bot h o f these view s see W. Hamilto n Fyfe' s Introductio n t o th e Loeb Classical Library edition of the Poetics (London an d Ne w York, 1932), pp. x-xiv, xix. 66. Nicomachean Ethics x. 4 passim; cf. ibid. i. 6. 67. Poetics 13. 1453*35-36; 14. 1453*10. 68. Nicomachean Ethics ii. 6. 69. Ibid. ii. 9 ad fin. 70. Poetics 8; 23. 1459 a30 ff.; 24. 1460*5 ff., 20 ff. 71. Ibid. 4. 1449a15. 72. Ibid. 13. 1453a25 ff. 73. E.g. , 6. 1450a25, 1450*7; 18. 1456a20. 74. Cf . Rhetoric ii. 12-17; iii. 7, 16. 75. Especiall y Poetics 6, 7, 9. 76. Se e above, pp. 14-15. 77. Poetics 6. 1450*18-20; 14. 1453*1 ff. 78. Ibid. 16 . 1454t>35. 79. Cf . Rhetoric ii. 5, 8. 80. Th e ethica l basis of the plot-for m here argue d a s best i s clarifie d b y the discussion , in Nicomachean Ethics v. 8 , o f th e variou s causes o f unjust acts. 81. I ow e the hin t fo r this interpretation , a s well a s muc h els e i n thes e lectures, t o m y friend an d colleague , Professo r Elder Olson . Th e distinctio n is wel l illustrate d i n som e of Jan e Austen' s revisions . Se e Mar y Lascelles , Jane Austen and Her Art (Oxford , 1939) , pp. 99-100 . 82. Reube n A. Brower, "The Heresy of Plot," in English Institute Essays, 1951, p. 69. 83. Poetics 20 . 1457 a27-30; cf . Posterior Analytics ii . 10 . 33*35; Metaphysics viii. 6. 1045 a12. 198

84. J . W. H. Atkins, Literary Criticism in Antiquity (Cambridge , 1934), I, 117. 85. Ibid. 86. W . Hamilton Fyfe, ed., Poetics, p. xiv. 87. Se e The World's Body, pp . 173-211 ; Kenyon Review, XIV (1952), 651-56. 88. Franci s Fergusson , The Idea of a Theatre (Princeton , 1949). 89. Se e above, pp. 28-29. 90. Cf. Crane , i n Critics and Criticism, pp . 617-20 , especiall y not e 7 . 91. Se e the essay s by Bernar d Weinber g o n Robortell o an d Castelvetr o in Critics and Criticism, pp. 319-71 , an d hi s "Scalige r versu s Aristotl e o n Poetics," Modern Philology, XXXI X (1942) , 337-60 , an d "Th e Poeti c Theories of Minturno," Studies in Honor of Frederick W. Shipley (St. Louis, 1942), pp. 101-29. 92. Yvo r Winters , The Anatomy of Nonsense (Norfolk , Conn. , 1943) , pp. 11-12. 93. Understanding Poetry, pp . 1-6 ; rev. ed., pp. xxxiii-xxxviii . 94. Frederic k A . Pottle, The Idiom of Poetry, pp . 70 , 80 ; rev . ed., pp . 71-72, 89. 95. Ransom , The New Criticism, pp. 279-81 ; als o A College Primer of Writing (Ne w York, 1943), pp. 83-86. 96. Ren £ Wellek an d Austi n Warren, Theory of Literature (New York , 1949), pp. 141, 152. 97. Institutio oratoria III. iii. 1-2. Cf . McKeon, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 171-72 . 98. Se e above, note 57. 99. Se e above, pp. 20-22. 100. Biographia literaria, ed. Shawcross, II, 8-10. 101. Phili p Blair Rice, Kenyon Review, VII (1945) , 374. 102. Murra y Krieger, Sewanee Review, LVIII (1950) , 44: "The principal differentiating featur e o f ar t (an d her e a s elsewher e I a m indebte d t o th e terminology of Eliseo Vivas ) i s that i t deal s solel y and continuall y wit h th e primary level of experience. This is to say that the artis t canno t allow himself any abstractio n o r generalization o f experience (th e rightfu l functio n of th e philosopher o r scientist), but rathe r mus t concern himself with his organization o f experienc e i n al l it s complexity , a n organizatio n whic h mus t los e none o f th e ambiguitie s an d paradoxe s inherent i n man' s condition . I f thi s integrity o f experience is the poin t which sets imaginative literature of f fro m other form s o f discourse , ma y i t no t b e sai d tha t th e peculia r functio n of literature i s locate d i n th e intuitiv e gras p o f th e particular s o f existence ; that it s peculia r valu e is found i n th e meaningfu l organizatio n of th e rela tionships wit h whic h i t deals ? I t woul d see m that Melville' s artisti c inten tion i n Moby Dick lie s i n thi s realm . I t ma y be tru e tha t h e want s t o sti r us i n a give n manne r by a certai n arrangemen t o f incident , character , an d diction; bu t abov e this i s a desire t o expos e certain problem s whic h h e ca n see not in abstrac t terms but onl y in the individualit y o f that ver y arrangement." I quot e thi s passag e a t lengt h becaus e i t seem s t o m e to illustrat e with admirabl e clarity th e kin d o f dialectical necessit y b y whic h th e critic s I a m discussin g i n thi s lectur e deriv e thei r principles : give n th e initia l division o f experienc e an d th e allocatio n o f on e hal f o f th e divisio n t o th e

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philosopher o r scientist , ho w inevitabl e everythin g else , includin g th e psychoanalysis of Melville, at once becomes! 103. Rice , Kenyan Review, VII, 374 . 104. Se e note 95, above. 105. W . K . Wimsatt , Jr. , "Verba l Style : Logica l an d Counterlogical, " PMLA, LXV (1950) , 5-20. 106. Cf . Olson , i n Critics and Criticism, pp . 62-63 , wher e th e poin t I have been developin g i n thi s sectio n i s briefly stated . 107. Fo r a brie f genera l accoun t o f Hellenisti c poetic s se e Atkins , Literary Criticism in Antiquity, I, 164-94. 108. Se e McKeon , i n Critics and Criticism, pp. 260-9 6 passim. 109. Thoma s Clark Pollock, The Nature of Literature (Princeton, 1942) . 110. Cf. , e.g. , Northro p Frye, Kenyan Review, XII (1950) , 25 1 ff.; XIII (1951), 9 5 ff.; and R . P. Blackmur , Hudson Review, III (1951) , 487-507 passim. 111. Cf . Critics and Criticism, pp. 14 , 459-60. 112. Cleant h Brooks, in Critiques and Essays in Criticism, 1920-1948, ed. Robert Wooste r Stallma n (Ne w York , 1949) , p . xix . 113. Cleant h Brooks , Kenyan Review, XIII (1951) , 72 (fo r the first two statements). 114. Welle k and Warren, Theory of Literature, p. 141 . 115. I . A. Richards, Coleridge on Imagination (Ne w York, 1935) , p. 220 . 116. W . K. Wimsatt, Jr., PMLA, LXV, 20. 117. Richards , Coleridge on Imagination, p. 202 . 118. Richards , Principles of Literary Criticism, pp. 261-71. 119. Willia m Empson , Seven Types of Ambiguity (2n d ed. , London , 1947), p. 1. 120. Phili p Wheelwright, Kenyan Review, II (1940) , 279. 121. F . W . Bateson , English Poetry: A Critical Introduction (London , 1950), pp. 48-62. 122. Cleant h Brooks, The Well Wrought Urn, especially pp. 8-9, 192 . 123. W . K. Wimsatt, Jr., PMLA, LXV, 8. 124. Cf. , e.g. , Cleant h Brooks , "Iron y a s a Principl e o f Structure, " i n Literary Opinion in America, ed. Morto n Dauwe n Zabe l (rev . ed. , Ne w York, 1951), p. 729. 125. E.g. , Cleant h Brooks; see above, note 93. 126. E.g. , Northro p Frye, University of Toronto Quarterly, XI X (1949) , 12-16; Kenyan Review, XII (1950), 249 ff. 127. E.g. , John Crowe Ransom; see above, note 95. 128. Cf . Brooks, The Well Wrought Urn, p. 189 . 129. Brooks , "Irony a s a Principl e o f Structure, " i n Zabel , ed. , Literary Opinion in America, pp. 740-41. 130. Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn, p. 199 . 131. Th e vie w is implicit i n nearl y al l the critica l writin g o f thi s school ; I tak e the phras e from Marvi n Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery (Princeton , 1952) , p. 202, note 8. 132. Cf . Crane, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 95-100. 133. Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn, pp. 177-96,199. 134. On the Parts of Animals i. 1. 641*15-17. Cf. above, pp. 45-46. 135. Ibid. 640*>5-10.

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136. The Well Wrought Urn, p . 10 . Wit h thi s ma y b e contraste d th e argument, ibid., p. 16 , in which Donne's use of "paradox" i n "The Canoniza tion" i s treate d a s a necessar y mean s t o th e expressiv e en d o f tha t poem . 137. Principles of Literary Criticism, pp. 249-50. 138. Biographia literaria, II, 12 . Cf. Critics and Criticism, pp. 85-93. 139. The Well Wrought Urn, pp. 186-87. 140. Rober t Pen n Warren , "Pur e an d Impur e Poetry, " i n Critiques and Essays in Criticism, ed. Stallman, pp. 101-2. 141. Cf . Crane , i n Critics and Criticism, pp. 100-7 ; Hoy t Trowbridge , Comparative Literature, III (1951) , 361-62 ; Charle s V . Hartung , University of Kansas City Review, Spring, 1952, pp . 181-89 . 142. I n Critiques and Essays in Criticism, ed. Stallman , p . xix . 143. Fo r th e antecedent s i n Romanti c criticis m o f som e o f th e "new " conceptions disseminate d b y thes e writers , se e M . H . Abrams , The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (Ne w York , 1953), especially chapter 9 . 144. I borro w the phras e fro m Eric h Fromm , The Forgotten Language: An Introduction to an Understanding of Dreams, Fairy Tales and Myths (New York, 1951), p. 7. 145. Contributions to Analytical Psychology, p. 248 . 146. "Symbolism, " i n th e Dictionary of World Literature, ed . Josep h T . Shipley (Ne w York, 1942), pp. 565-66. 147. Cf. , e.g., Clyd e Kluckhohn, "Myths an d Rituals : A General Theory, " Harvard Theological Review, XXXV (1942) , 45-79; Stanley Edga r Hyman , "Myth, Ritual , an d Nonsense, " Kenyon Review, X I (1949) , 455-75 . Th e following ar e som e o f th e mor e genera l discussion s whic h hav e ha d a n impact o n recen t criticism : Si r Jame s Frazer , The Golden Bough (1890 ; 2nd ed . i n 3 vols. , 1900 ; 3r d ed . i n 1 2 vols., 1907-15) ; C . G . Jung , The Psychology of the Unconscious (Ne w York , 1916) , especiall y Par t II ; C . G . Jung and C . Kerenyi, Introduction to a Science of Mythology, trans . R . F. C . Huff (London , 1951) ; Erns t Cassirer , Sprache und Myihos (Leipzi g an d Berlin, 1925) , translate d a s Language and Myth b y Susann e K . Lange r (New York, 1946) ; Lord Raglan, Jocasta's Crime: An Anthropological Study (London, 1933 ) an d The Hero: A Study in Tradition, Myth, and Drama (London, 1936; Ne w York, 1937); Susanne K. Langer, Philosophy in a New Key (Ne w York , 1948) ; Richar d Chase , Quest for Myth (Bato n Rouge , 1949). Fo r othe r reference s se e th e usefu l article s o f Haskel l M . Block , "Cultural Anthropolog y an d Contemporar y Literar y Criticism, " Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, XI (1952), 46-54, and of Wallace W . Douglas , "The Meaning s o f 'Myth * i n Moder n Criticism/ * Modern Philology, L (1953), 232-42. 148. Cf. , e.g. , Willia m Troy, "Postlude : Myth , Method , an d the Future, " Chimera, IV (1946), 82-83. 149. Cf . C. G. Jung, Contributions to Analytical Psychology, pp . 156-63 , 245-49,261-68. 150. Se e Speculum, XIX (1944), 123-25. 151. E.g. , Fromm, The Forgotten Language, pp. 1 8 ff. 152. Thi s appear s t o b e di e suppositio n underlyin g th e discussion s o f Greek traged y an d comed y i n Gilber t Murray' s ver y influentia l "excursu s on th e ritua l form s preserve d i n Gree k tragedy " contribute d t o Jan e

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Harrison's Themis: A Study of the Social Origins of Greek Religion (Cam bridge, 1912) , pp. 341-63 ; i n Georg e Thomson' s Aeschylus and Athens: A Study in the Social Origins of Drama (London , 1941) ; i n F . M . Cornford' s The Origin of Attic Comedy (London, 1914) ; an d i n Franci s Fergusson' s The Idea of a Theatre (Princeton , 1949). 153. Cf . Northrop Frye , Kenyan Review, XIII (1951) , 98-110. Se e also his " A Conspectu s o f Dramati c Genres, " Kenyon Review, XII I (1951) , 543-62. 154. A s in Murray' s "excursus " an d i n Franci s Fergusson' s discussio n o f Oedipus Rex. 155. Fo r a brief historica l sketc h o f the "Cambridg e school, " see Stanle y Edgar Hyman , Kenyon Review, XI (1949) , 463-69, an d th e reference s i n note 152 , above . O f th e vas t literatur e o f "archetypal " interpretation s o f medieval an d modern works, I nee d mentio n here onl y the tw o which hav e probably ha d th e wides t influence : Jessi e L . Weston' s From Ritual to Romance (Cambridge , 1920 ) an d Mau d Bodkin' s Archetypal Patterns in Poetry: Psychological Studies of Imagination (London, 1934) . 156. Willia m Troy, Chimera, IV, 83. Cf. , amon g others, Joh n F . Danby , Shakespeare's Doctrine of Nature: A Study of "King Lear" (London , 1949) , pp. 122-25 , and Northro p Frye , "Level s of Meaning in Literature," Kenyon Review, XII (1950), 246-62. 157. The New Criticism, p. x . Se e als o Ransom , The World's Body, p . 173; The Kenyon Critics (Clevelan d and New York, 1951) , pp. vii-viii. 158. L . C. Knights, Explorations, p. 6. 159. R . W. Stallman , Critiques and Essays in Criticism, p. 506 . 160. Rober t Penn Warren, " A Poem of Pure Imagination : A n Experiment in Reading, " i n The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Ne w York , 1946) , pp . 63-64. 161. Brook s an d Warren , Understanding Poetry, pp . 118-21 ; rev . ed. , pp. 41-48. 162. Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn, p. 122 . 163. R . W. Stallman, "The Structur e and Symbolis m of Conrad's Victory," Western Review, Spring, 1949 , p. 149 . 164. Se e Wimsatt's articl e cite d above , not e 105 , an d th e othe r paper s by th e sam e writer mentione d therein . Cf . als o Maynar d Mack , "'Wit an d Poetry an d Pope' : Som e Observation s o n Hi s Imagery, " i n Pope and His Contemporaries: Essays Presented to George Sherburn (Oxford , 1949) , pp. 20-40. 165. Rober t Pen n Warren , The Ancient Mariner, pp . 87-93 . Cf . E . E . Stoll, PMLA, LXII I (1948) , 216-19 , an d Olson , i n Critics and Criticism, pp. 138-44. 166. Brooks , The Well Wrought Urn, pp. 27-46. 167. Rober t B . Heilman, This Great Stage: Image and Structure in "King Lear" (Bato n Rouge , 1948) . Cf . W . R . Keast , i n Critics and Criticism, pp. 108^37 . 168. Cf . Joh n Crow e Ransom , "The Understandin g o f Fiction, " Kenyon Review, XII (1950), 189-218. 169. Ro y Walker, The Time is Free, esp. pp. xiv-xv, 64 S. 170. Knights , Explorations, p. 23.

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171. Joh n F . Danby , Shakespeare s Doctrine of Nature, pp . 59 , 174 . 172. G . Wilso n Knight , The Wheel of Fire (London , 1949) , pp . 3 , 10 , 119, 139 . Cf . Tillyard , Shakespeare s Last Plays, pp . 27-40 , 44-46 , an d Danby, Shakespeare's Doctrine of Nature, pp. 18-19 . 173. Heilman , This Great Stage, p. 35. 174. A n excellent recen t exampl e is Ernest Sirluck' s "Th e Faerie Queene, Book II , an d th e Nicomachean Ethics," Modern Philology, XLI X (1951) , 73-100. 175. Se e Lawrenc e Edwar d Bowling , "Th e Themati c Framewor k o f Romeo and Juliet" PMLA, LXI V (1949) , 208 . 176. The Time is Free, pp. ix , 106-7. 177. J . I . M . Stewart , Character and Motive in Shakespeare (London , 1949), p . 144 . Cf . Hyman , The Armed Vision, pp. 405-7 , an d especiall y the followin g (p . 406) : "Thu s w e coul d take , say , Eliot' s symbo l o f th e Waste Lan d i n th e poe m o f that name , a symbo l of grea t dept h an d com plexity, an d rea d i t a t an y leve l w e care d t o inser t a vocabulary : a t th e most intimat e level , t o th e Freudian , i t woul d b e castratio n an d impotence ; at a mor e consciou s level , t o a post-Freudia n psychology , perhap s th e fea r of artisti c sterility ; o n th e daily-lif e level , i n th e biographica l term s o f Va n Wyck Brooks , th e symbo l o f Eliot' s pre-conversio n state ; o n a mor e socia l level, t o a criti c lik e Parrington , th e empt y lif e o f the artis t o r th e frustra tion o f th e uppe r class ; t o Elio t himself , th e irreligio n o f th e times ; i n broadly historica l terms , t o th e Marxist , the deca y o f capitalism; i n Jungia n terms, the archetypal ritua l of rebirth." 178. Georg e Ia n Duthie , Shakespeare (London , 1951) , especiall y pp . 39-56; se e also his remark s in Review of English Studies, ft.S. , I I (1951) , 79-80. 179. Shakespeare's Doctrine of Nature, pp. 121-23. 180. Knight , The Wheel of Fire, pp . 2-9 ; Goddard , The Meaning of Shakespeare, pp . 8-13. Cf. also Walker, The Time is Free, pp. ix , 106-7. 181. Knight , The Wheel of Fire, p. 7. See above, p. 34. 182. The Meaning of Shakespeare, p. 642 . 183. Northro p Frye, Kenyon Review, XII (1950) , 257 . 184. Mau d Bodkin , Archetypal Patterns in Poetry, p . 4 . Fo r representa tive statement s b y Jung , se e Contributions to Analytical Psychology, especially pp . 111-40 , 157-63 , 245-48, 278-81, 396 , an d Introduction to a Science of Mythology, especiall y pp. 99-106, 218-19. 185. Shakespeare Survey, IV (1951), 30-31. 186. The Crown of Life (London , 1948), pp. 30-31. 187. Poems, 1938-1945 (Ne w York, 1946), p. 41. 188. Coli n Still , Shakespeare's Mystery Play: A Study of "The Tempest" (London, 1921). 189. The Idea of a Theatre, pp. 13-41 . 190. Character and Motive in Shakespeare, pp . 135 , 138-39 . Cf . als o ibid., pp . 21-22 , o n th e blindin g o f Glouceste r i n King Lear: "Ther e i s something unmistakabl y atavi c abou t th e play . Lik e Keats' s Hyperion i t treats o f th e processio n o f th e generation s an d th e struggl e thi s involves : 'The younge r rises , whe n th e ol d dot h fall. ' Bu t wherea s Keat s woul d us e his myt h t o interpre t philosophica l an d persona l problem s whic h ar e

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essentially modern , Shakespear e drive s t o hi s story' s immemoria l cor e i n drama and projects the struggle in that extrem e form i n which, phylogenetically, i t stil l exist s i n th e recesse s o f ever y huma n mind . Th e firs t anthro pologist t o approach King Lear—curiously enough , he seem s not yet to hav e arrived—when h e observe s ho w on e paterna l figur e i s deprive d o f hi s possessions an d wit s an d anothe r o f his eyes , wil l certainl y ave r that thes e incidents ar e symbolica l a s such thing s i n dream s ar e symbolical : the y vei l an unconsciou s fantas y o f th e kin d classicall y expresse d i n th e myt h o f Uranus and Cronus . So at thi s leve l again—th e deeper leve l a t whic h tragi c drama tends to rehearse archetypal imaginative themes—Gloster's [sic] maim ing i s implicate d wit h th e play , coherin g wit h it s primitiv e characte r a s a whole and having a distinguishable relationshi p t o yet more savage deprivations i n analogou s parent-and-chil d stories. " Cf . E . E . Stoll , Modern Philology, XLVIII (1950), 122-32. 191. R . W. Stallman, Western Review, Spring, 1949 , p. 149. 192. Northro p Frye, Kenyan Review, XII (1950) , 258. See also Richar d P. Adams , "Th e Archetypa l Patter n o f Deat h an d Rebirt h i n Milton' s Lycidas," FMLA , LXI V (1949) , 183-88 , an d Carolin e W. Mayerson , "The Orpheus Image in Lycidas" ibid., pp. 189-207. 193. Edit h Sitwell, A Notebook on William Shakespeare (London , 1948) , pp. 84, 90-91. 194. Character and Motive in Shakespeare, pp. 33-37. 195. Contributions to Analytical Psychology, p. 40. 196. Cf . Bodkin , pp . 48-54 , an d Jung , Contributions to Analytical Psychology, pp. 34-44. 197. Se e especially pp. 16-26. 198. O n thi s se e A . W . Pickard-Cambridge , Dithyramb, Tragedy and Comedy (Oxford , 1927) , especiall y pp . 185-208 , 329-49. Th e rejoinde r of Lord Ragla n t o suc h criticis m o f Murray' s theor y a s tha t o f Pickard Cambridge i s t o th e effec t tha t th e theor y mus t b e accepte d becaus e w e can't prov e that i t i s false. Se e The Hero (Ne w York, 1937) , p. 283 : "The well-considered attempt s o f Professor s Gilber t Murra y and F . M . Cornfor d to reconstruc t from th e drama s th e ritua l upo n whic h the y wer e base d have bee n me t b y th e criticis m tha t thei r theorie s ar e valueless , sinc e n o such ritual s ar e know n t o hav e bee n performed . Thi s criticis m sound s plausible enough , bu t whe n analyse d i t i s found to b e base d o n the belie f that w e ar e i n possessio n of ful l knowledg e both o f earl y Gree k ritua l an d of th e developmen t o f th e Atti c drama . Suc h evidenc e a s w e have , however, i s traditional , an d therefor e ha s n o historica l value. " W e ca n continue, therefore, to believe what we wish to believe. 199. Eric h Fromm, The Forgotten Language, pp. 221-28. 200. Richar d Chase , Herman Melville: A Critical Study (Ne w York , 1949), p. 43. 201. Th e interpretatio n i s Dr . Fran z Alexander' s i n a n essa y whic h I have been unabl e t o see; I borro w the statemen t from Lione l Trilling, The Liberal Imagination: Essays on Literature and Society (Ne w York , 1950) , p. 51 . "A n analysi s o f thi s sort, " Trillin g comment s (pp . 51-52) "i s no t momentous an d no t exclusiv e of othe r meanings ; perhaps i t doe s n o more than poin t u p an d formulat e what w e al l hav e alread y seen . I t ha s th e

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tact t o accept th e pla y an d doe s not , like Dr . Jones' s stud y o f Hamlet, search fo r a Tiidde n motive * an d a 'deepe r working / whic h implie s tha t there is a reality to which the play stands in the relation that a dream stands to th e wis h tha t generate s i t an d fro m whic h i t i s separable ; i t i s thi s reality, thi s 'deepe r working, ' which , accordin g t o Dr . Jones , produce d th e play." 202. Bodkin , Archetypal Patterns in Poetry, chapte r 2 , " A Stud y o f "Th e Ancient Mariner ' an d o f th e Rebirt h Archetype. ' Th e quotatio n i s fro m p. 54. 203. Kenyan Review, XIII (1951) , 544. 204. Se e above, p. 33. 205. Selected Essays, 1917-1932 (Ne w York, 1932), p. 98. 206. New York Times Book Review, Apri l 30 , 1950 , p. 1 . Ther e i s of course muc h t o a simila r effec t i n th e notebook s an d preface s o f Henr y James; cf., for example, the Prefac e to The Awkward Age (London , 1922) , especially pp. vi, xvii, xix, xxv. 207. Se e above, pp. 104-6. 208. Thes e type s ar e discussed , wit h references , i n Ransom , The New Criticism, pp. 235-54. 209. Fo r example , tha t o f Kennet h Burk e i n hi s "Lexico n Rhetoricae" ; see Stallman, Critiques and Essays in Criticism, pp. 234-38 . 210. Rober t B . Heilman , "Mor e Fai r tha n Black : Ligh t an d Dar k i n Othello," Essays in Criticism, I (1951) , 315-35. 211. Hudson Review, III (1951) , 497. 212. Se e above, pp. 44-45, and note 47. 213. On the Parts of Animals i . 1 . 640*25-29 ; Metaphysics vii . 17 . 1041*5-8. 214. Jan e Austen, Emma, chapter 12. 215. Se e above, pp. 91-92. 216. Se e above, pp. 45-46. 217. Se e above, pp. 57-63. 218. A n Autobiography, p. 2. 219. O n th e kin d o f criticis m whic h refuse s t o gran t t o a n artis t th e "subject" h e ha s chosen , se e the remark s of Henr y Jame s i n hi s prefac e t o The Portrait of a Lady. 220. Se e above , pp . 47-49 , an d Olson , i n Critics and Criticism, pp . 65-68, 69-70, 588-92. 221. Se e above, pp. 50-57. 222. Cf . Crane , i n Critics and Criticism, pp . 621-22 , 632-45 ; Olson , ibid., 563-66. 223. Cf . Olson , ibid., pp . 7 1 ff., 562-63. Wit h th e remarkabl e develop ment, i n mode m literature , o f elaborat e representationa l mean s fo r makin g effective relativel y simpl e o r universalized plots , the proble m o f distinguish ing th e tw o i s sometime s a delicat e one ; there ha s bee n a goo d dea l o f confusion, consequently , i n som e o f th e discussion s o f work s lik e Ulysses, A Passage to India, and Hemingway's "The Killers." 224. Se e above, pp. 67-68, 70-73. 225. Cf . Olson , i n Critics and Criticism, p . 592 , for brie f definition s of the principal types .

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226. Cf . Norman Maclean, ibid., pp. 408 ff. 227. Cf . Olson , ibid., p . 560 , and hi s forthcomin g boo k o n th e shorte r poetic forms . 228. Cf . Olson , ibid., pp . 555-56 ; Crane , ibid., pp . 636-38 . Bu t thes e are merely hints. 229. On e o f m y forme r students , Mr . Richar d Levin , i s completin g a study o f th e plot-form s o f thes e an d othe r simila r work s i n Renaissanc e English drama. 230. Se e above, pp. 76-77. 231. Cf . Crane, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 641-45. 232. Cf . Olson, ibid., pp. 6 8 ff., 567 ff. 233. Cf . above, pp. 7-8. 234. See , in additio n t o wha t follows , Wayn e C . Booth , Journal of General Education, V I (1951) , 21-25 . Fo r a somewha t simila r discussio n of a n episod e i n King Lear, cf . Maclean , i n Critics and Criticism, pp . 595-615. 235. Cleant h Brooks, The Well Wrought Urn, pp. 96-113. 236. I borro w her e th e substanc e an d man y o f th e word s o f a not e o f mine in Critics and Criticism, p. 99. 237. B y T. C . Chamberlin , i n a pape r wit h thi s title , firs t publishe d i n Science, Old Series , X V (1890), 92-96; reprinted i n the Journal of Geology, XXXIX (1931) , 155-65 . Th e "metho d o f multipl e workin g hypotheses " i s contrasted wit h "th e method o f th e rulin g theory " an d "th e method o f th e working hypothesis." 238. Cf . Keast, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 131-36. 239. Explorations, p . 36. Cf. above, pp. 33-34. 240. Cf . Keast, in Critics and Criticism, pp. 135-37. 241. Cf . Crane, ibid., pp. 639-40. 242. Coleridge's Shakespearean Criticism, ed . T . M . Rayso r (London , 1930), II, 66-67; cf. Biographia literaria, II, 9-10. 243. E.g. , U. M . Ellis-Fermor, The Frontiers of Drama (London , 1945) , pp. 77-95 ; M . M . Morozov , "The Individualization o f Shakespeare' s Char acters throug h Imagery, " Shakespeare Survey, I I (1949) , 83-106 ; R . A . Foakes, "Suggestion s fo r a Ne w Approach to Shakespeare' s Imagery, " ibid.y V (1952) , 81-92. 244. A n instanc e i n point , vergin g o n caricatur e o f th e faul t I spea k of in th e text , i s a recen t discussio n o f th e characte r o f Jan e Austen' s Darcy . Why, the criti c asks, "is he, amon g the majo r figure s i n Pride and Prejudice, the onl y on e disturbingly derive d an d wooden? " An d the answer , i n term s of hi s psychoanalytica l thesis, i s given at once , withou t an y consideratio n of the grea t difficultie s tha t mus t hav e arisen , fo r th e novelist , fro m th e rol e which Darc y had t o pla y i n the first part o f the plo t an d fro m th e fac t tha t the choic e o f poin t o f vie w prevente d eve n late r an y direc t o r sustaine d disclosure o f hi s unspoke n thought : "Th e reason seem s t o b e th e sam e a s that whic h compelled Jan e Auste n to falsif y he r ton e an d commentar y con cerning Wickham' s seduction s an d t o suppl y Elino r an d Mariann e Dash wood wit h suc h nonentitie s fo r husbands . Th e sociall y unmanageable , th e personally involvin g aspect s o f sex , Jane Auste n can n o longe r trea t wit h irony, no r can sh e a s ye t trea t the m straightforwardly . Darc y i s th e hero , he i s the potentia l love r o f a comple x youn g woma n much lik e th e autho r

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herself; an d a s such Jan e Auste n cannot animate hi m with emotion , o r with her characteristi c informin g irony . Sh e borrow s hi m fro m a book ; and , though sh e alter s an d illuminate s everythin g else , sh e can d o nothin g mor e with hi m tha n fi t hi m functionall y int o th e plot. " Marvi n Mudrick , Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery, p. 117 ; italic s mine. 245. I hav e discusse d som e of the practica l consequence s o f thi s vie w i n an essay , t o b e publishe d soon , entitle d "Question s an d Answer s i n th e Teaching o f Literature. " Th e "soon " o f th e precedin g sentenc e ha s a t thi s reprinting (June , 1967 ) becom e fourteen years; but an y reader wh o may still wish t o se e th e promise d essa y will fin d it , slightl y revised , i n The Idea of the Humanities and Other Essays, Critical and Historical (Chicago , 1967) , II, 176-93 .

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INDEX Abrams, M. H., 201 Absalom and Achitophel, 157 "Abstract" methods i n criticism , xvi, 23-25, 37-38 , 47 , 113 , 139 , 147, 149,154,156,167-68 Adams, Richard P. , 204 Alchemist, The, 159 Alexander, Franz, 13 6 Alexander, W. J., 3 Allegory, interpretation of , 122-23 Ambiguity, 33, 99 Analogy, use s of , i n criticism , 5-6 , 92-94, 100-1,109, 138-39 Anthropology, influenc e of , o n contemporary criticism , 8 , 110-14 , 129-39, 201-2 Antigone, 136 Aquinas, St. Thomas, 114 Archer, William, 7 "Archetypal" criticism , 24 , 32 , 109-14, 128-39 "Archetypal patterns, " 116 , 128-3 9 passim "Aristotelian" criticis m i n th e Re naissance an d after , 80-83 , 94-95 Aristotle, xvi, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 18-19, 23, 28-29, 38 , 39-79 , 80-83 , 85-89 , 93-94, 98 , 104-6 , 116 , 118 , 149-64, 170-71 , 178 , 193 Arnold, Matthew , x , xi , 96 , 98 , 19 2 Ars poetica, 29 , 8 2 Atkins, J . W . H. , 77 , 200 Augustine, St. , 29, 9 4 Austen, Jane , 151 , 162 , 178, 206

Bateson, F. W., 92,101 Beauty, conceptio n of , i n Aristotle , 58-63 Blackmur, R . P. , 28-29 , 78 , 100 , 115, 119 , 149 Blake, William, 13 7 Block, Haskell M., 201 Bloomfield, Leonard, 9 Bodkin, Maud, 32, 109, 129, 134-35, 136, 185 , 196, 202 Boileau, 143 Booth, Wayne C., 206 Bowling, Lawrence Edward, 124 Bradley, A. C., 5, 7,14-17, 196 Brooks, Cleanth, 4, 5, 84, 92, 96, 98, 99, 100 , 101, 102 , 103, 104, 105, 107, 109 , 118, 119 , 120 , 175-76, 185 Brothers Karamazov, The, 65 , 117 , 162 Brower, Reuben A., 74 Browne, Sir Thomas, 109 Burke, Kenneth, 5, 78,109, 205 Butcher, S . H., 78 Cambridge schoo l of classical anthro pologists, 78 , 113 Carnap, Rudolf, 26, 30 Gary, Joyce, 142-43, 182 Cassirer, Ernst, 110 , 201 Castelvetro, 95 Catharsis i n tragedy , 41 , 54 , 56-57, 63, 71-72, 82,171-73 Cazamian, Louis, 9 1

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Chamberlin, T. C., 206 Character a s a structura l element , 14-16, 42, 67, 69, 73,154 Chase, Richard, 109, 136, 201 Cicero, 9, 82, 94, 95 Cinthio, Giraldi, 147 Coleridge, Samue l Taylor , xiii , 18 , 28-29, 78, 90-91, 96, 97, 98, 107, 120, 125 , 136, 149, 183, 192 Collingwood, R . G. , 155 , 196 Comedy, 25 , 53 , 159 , 161-62 , 18 1 Concepts i n practica l criticism , tw o manners o f using, 146 , 174-77 "Concrete whole, " 42 , 47 , 81-82 , 85-86, 93-94, 150-54 , 158 Conrad, Joseph, 65 , 118 , 133, 138 Constructive method s i n criticism , 24, 110 . See Reductiv e method s in criticis m Content an d form, 84 , 88-89, 91-92, 153, 189-90 . Convention, meaning s of , 19 8 Coomaraswamy, A . K., 109 , 111-12 Cornford, F . M. , 113 , 129, 135, 202 Craig, Hardin , 13 0 Crane, R . S. , 195 , 199 , 200 , 201, 205, 20 6 Criteria o f poetic values , 57-63 , 82, 155-56, 180-8 3 Croce, Benedetto , 40 , 4 1 Cymbeline, 117 , 127-28, 135 Danby, Joh n F., 121 , 127, 202, 203 Dante, 7 , 29 , 54 , 114 , 123, 130-31, 157, 165 , 186 "Dead, The " (Joyce), 5 3 Dewey, John , 4 0 Diction, 67 , 70 , 74-76 , 101-2 , 15 4 Discourse, critical , constituen t ele ments of , 12 , 17-2 5 Dogmatism, tw o kind s of , 8-9 , 29-32, 193-9 4 Don Juan, 15 7 Dostoevsky, Fyodor , 65 , 117 , 162 Douglas, Wallace W. , 20 1 Dow, Earl e Wilbur , xvi i Dryden, John , xii, 19, 15 7 Duchess of'Malfi, The, 16 2 Duke of Benevento, The, 151-5 3 Dunciad, 54 , 11 7

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Durkheim, Emile , 11 0 Duthie, Georg e Ian , 126-27 Eclecticism i n critica l theory , 9 , 28-29 Edison, G. , 19 6 Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, 175-76 , 189 , 191 Eliot, T . S. , x , 7 , 28 , 96 , 98 , 137 , 142 Ellis-Fermor, U . M. , 20 6 Emerson, Ralp h Waldo, 10 9 Emma, 151 , 178 Empedocles, 5 8 Empson, William, 96, 100, 101 Ethics, relatio n o f poetic s to , 43 , 189-90 Euripides, 6 3 Everyman, 123 Faerie Queene, The, 54 , 117 , 123, 165 Fergusson, Francis , 78 , 109 , 132 , 202 Fielding, Henry , 53,159, 181 Foakes, R. A., 206 Form: a s principl e o f structure , 140-43, 148-49 , 185 , 191-92 ; a s "working" or "power," 44, 52-53, 57, 159 , 170-72 , 179 . See also Content an d form ; Matte r an d form; Structur e Forster, E . M. , 162, 205 "Frameworks," 12-13. See Languages Frazer, Si r James, 9, 110 , 114, 129, 131, 132 , 135, 136, 138, 149, 201 Freud, Sigmund , 9 , 96 , 110 , 112 , 114, 129 , 133, 135, 149 Fromm, Erich , 111 , 204 Frye, Northrop, x, 56, 102, 109, 128, 133, 137-38 , 196 , 200, 202 Fyfe, W . Hamilton, 78, 198 Genetic fallac y i n criticism , 33 , 13 8 Goddard, Harold , 7 , 119 , 127-28 , 203 Graves, Robert , 13 1 Gray, Thomas , 175-76 , 189 , 191 Hamlet, 6 , 10 , 12 , 16 , 34-35 , 75 , 133

Harrison, Jane , 110 , 113 , 132 , 135, 136, 201- 2 Hartung, Charle s V. , 20 1 Hazlitt, William , x , 9 6 Hegel, G . W. F. , 4 0 Heilman, Rober t B. , 119 , 120 , 122, 146-48, 174 Hellenistic-Roman traditio n i n criti cism, 94-95 , 9 9 Hemingway, Ernest , 20 5 Henry IV, 126 , 132, 135, 136 Henry V, 13 5 History o f poetry i n Aristotle , 63-6 5 Hobbes, Thomas , 4 0 Homer, 63 , 64 , 65 , 13 4 Horace, 29 , 82 , 94 , 14 3 Hume, David , xvi , 23, 37, 40, 113 Hyman, Stanle y Edgar , 28-29 , 201, 202, 20 3 Hypotheses, use s of , i n practica l criticism, 34-35 , 147 , 167-8 0 Imagery, pattern s of , 7-8 , 15 , 118 , 120-22, 123 , 124 , 125 , 136-37 , 148, 184 , 186 Imitation, 6 , 18-19 , 31 , 47-49 , 81-82, 85-86, 158-6 0 Imitative an d non-imitativ e form s of poetry, 49 , 54 , 86 , 156-58 , 160 , 186 Intention, 56 , 81-82 , 166-67 , 179 , 182 Internal an d externa l questions , 26-27, 30 Interpretation, hypothese s of , 168-69 Ironical an d simpl e structure s i n poetry, 105- 6 Irony, 33 , 99 , 106 , 107, 108, 174 James, Henry , 5 , 53 , 65 , 20 5 Johnson, Samuel , xvi , 5, 19 , 23 , 5 8 Jones, Ernest , 13 3 Jonson, Ben , 159 Joseph Andrews, 53 Joyce, James , 53 , 20 5 Jung, C . G. , 9 , 36 , 96 , 110 , 111 , 112, 114 , 129 , 133-35, 201 , 203 Keast, W . R. , 202, 206 Keats, John , 125 , 16 1

Kerenyi, C. , 20 1 "Killers, The " (Hemingway), 20 5 King Lear, 16, 65, 93, 117, 120, 121, 122, 125 , 127, 147, 164, 166 Kluckhohn, Clyde , 20 1 Knight, Fran k H. , 18 0 Knight, G . Wilson, 7-8 , 34-35, 100, 119, 121 , 124, 127, 130-31, 203 Knights, L . C. , 7 , 14-17 , 115 , 121 , 179 Krieger, Murray , 9 1 Langer, Susanne, 110, 201 "Language," meanin g an d implica tions o f th e ter m i n thi s book , 10-38, 80-8 1 Language i n poetry, the problem of , 96-100, 101- 2 Lascelles, Mary , 198 Lawrence, D . H. , 13 4 Leavis, F . R. , 31, 38, 41, 92, 96, 98, 185 Leech, Clifford , 19 6 Lessing, G . E. , 7 8 Levin, Richard , 206 Longinus, xvi , 18, 20 , 23 , 31 , 192 , 193 Lubbock, Percy , 14 4 Lycidas, 13 3 Lyric poetry , form s of , 160-61 , 175-76 Macbeth, 6-8 , 9-10, 14 , 16, 17, 73, 120, 121 , 125 , 126 , 130 , 160 , 169-73, 178-79 , 180 , 189, 191 Mack, Maynard , 196 , 202 McKeon, Richard , xvii , 195 , 196 , 197, 199 , 200 Maclean, Norman , 206 Malinowski, Bronislaw , 13 5 Mandeville, Bernard , 8 Mansfield Park, 16 2 Marvell, Andrew , 21 , 17 6 Master of Ballantrae, The, 53 Matter an d form , 44 , 150-54 , 166-67, 189-9 0 "Matter o f fact " method s i n criti cism, 23 , 25 , 37-38 , 146 , 149 , 154-55, 156 , 167-6 8 Mayerson, Carolin e W. , 20 4

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"Meaning" a s a rulin g concep t i n contemporary criticism , 7-8 , 99 , 102-3, 116-3 9 passim, 186 . See Total meanin g Medieval criticism , 9 4 Melville, Herman , 128 , 136 Method, varietie s of , i n criticism , 20-25. See Abstrac t methods ; Matter o f fac t method s Mill, Joh n Stuart , 9 6 Milton, John , 13 3 Minturno, 9 5 Moby Dick, 128 , 136 Moliere, 5 3 Montaigne, 8 Moore, G . E., 8 Moore, Si r Joh n Henry , 151-5 3 Morozov, M . M. , 20 6 Much Ado about Nothing, 11 7 Mudrick, Marvin , 103, 206 Muir, Kenneth , 6-7 Multiple hypothese s i n criticism , 177 Multiple meaning s i n poems , 126 , 138-39, 203 Murray, Gilbert , 113 , 129 , 132, 135, 136, 201- 2 Murry, Middleton , 9 8 Myth, relation s o f poetr y to , 6 , 32 , 128-39 passim Necessity, dialectical , 21-22, 25 , 89; hypothetical, 20-22 , 45-47 , 83 , 88, 154-5 5 Neoclassical criticism , 97 , 9 8 Object, means , manner , an d effec t as terms in poetic analysis , 50-54, 55-58, 89 , 158-59, 186 Occam's razor , 126 , 179 "Ode o n a Distan t Prospec t o f Eto n College," 17 6 "Ode o n a Grecia n Urn, " 125 "Ode o n Intimations o f Immortality, " 161 "Ode t o a Nightingale, " 161 Oedipus Rex, 65, 132 , 136, 138 Olson, Elder , xvii , 196 , 197 , 198, 200, 202 , 205, 206 Orphan, The, 162 Orwell, George , 15 7 212

Othello, 121 , 146-48, 166 , 170-71 Otway, Thomas , 162 Paradox, 33 , 99 , 107 , 108, 174 Passage to India, A, 162 , 205 Pater, Walter , 92 , 96 Persuasion, 16 2 Pickard-Cambridge, A . W. , 20 4 Plato, 18-19 , 28 , 39-40, 47-48 , 58 , 109, 11 6 Pleasure, plac e of , i n Aristotle' s poetics, 58-6 0 Plot, 6 , 42 , 67-68 , 69 , 70-73 , 82 , 159-60, 162-63, 170-7 2 Pluralism, 25-32 , 35 , 191-94 . See Languages Poetics, natur e an d limit s of , i n Aristotle, 39-65 , 77-7 8 Poetry: definition s of , 3 , 15 , 48-54, 55-57, 83-94, 164-66; and drama, 15, 115 , 133 , 147-48 , 149 , 168, 174; a s dramatize d dialectic , 127; as a homogeneou s whole , 5 , 49 , 86-88, 103-4 , 117 , 164-65 ; a s metaphor, 90 , 99 , 116 , 138 , 185 ; as a mod e o f discourse , 83-94 , 98-103, 109-12 , 116 , 128 , 139, 144-45, 164-65 ; an d prose , 85 , 91, 100-2 , 149 ; an d science , 84-85, 91 , 100-1 , 102 ; as a special kind of language, 33 , 99-109, 110-14 Pollock, Thoma s Clark , 9 5 Pope, Alexander , 54 Portrait of a Lady, The, 53 Pottle, Frederic k A. , 84-85, 88 , 196 Prelude, The, 54 Pride and Prejudice, 162 , 206 Proof, method s of , i n practica l criti cism, 33-35 , 126-28 , 136-39 , 167-80 "Proper pleasure, " 59-60, 62 , 82 Psychoanalysis, use s of , i n con temporary criticism , 24 , 110-14 , 129-39 Qualitative criticism , 95-96 , 19 2 Quintilian, 82 , 88-89, 94, 95 Raglan, Lord , 110 , 201, 204 Ransom, Joh n Crowe , 5 , 19 , 20-22,

24, 38 , 78 , 85 , 88 , 92-93 , 100 , 102, 115 , 196 , 202, 205 Reduction term s i n contemporar y "thematic" criticism , 123-26 , 14 8 Reductive method s i n criticism , 24 , 33, 36-37 , 89 , 110 , 112, 184-85 . See Constructiv e method s i n criticism Relativism, historica l an d sociologi cal, 27-2 8 Relativity o f critica l statement s t o questions and "frameworks," 26-27 Representation, manner of, 23,76-77, 144, 159 , 163-64, 17 3 Rhetoric, 43, 49, 74, 89, 95, 118-19, 125-28, 19 7 Rice, Phili p Blair , 9 1 Richard 11, 13 5 Richard 111, 7, 160 , 162, 170 Richards, I . A. , 9 , 96 , 98 , 99 , 100, 101, 106 , 107, 149 Rickword, C . H. , 14 , 1 6 Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The, 120, 125 , 136 Ritual, patterns of , in poetry , 6 , 32 , 111-14, 128-3 9 passim Robortello, 9 4 Romantic criticism , 97-98 , 20 1 Romeo and Juliet, 12 4 Roper, Gordon , xvi i Russell, Bertrand , 8 Rymer, Thomas , xi i Sainte-Beuve, Auguste , x Sapir, Edward, 1 1 Scaliger, 95 Scepticism, 8, 27-28 "Semantic" criticism , 98-100 ; tw o principal school s of , 100-14 , 11 6 Shakespeare, William , 4 , 6-8, 9-10, 12, 14-18 , 30, 32, 34-35, 38 , 65, 66, 67, 73, 75, 116, 117, 119, 120, 121, 122 , 124 , 125 , 126-28 , 130-33, 134-35,136, 138, 146-48, 160, 162 , 164 , 166 , 169-73 , 178-80, 189 , 190, 191 Shelley, Perc y Bysshe, 38 Sidney, Si r Philip , 8 1 Sirluck, Ernest , 20 3 Sitwell, Edith , 13 3

Sophocles, 63 , 132 , 136, 138 Species o f poetr y a s a concep t i n criticism, 5 , 46-47, 49-54, 57, 61, 86, 95 , 103-5 , 117 , 158-62 , 170, 182. See Comedy ; Lyri c poetry ; Tragedy Spenser, Edmund , 54, 123 , 165 Spurgeon, Caroline , 18 6 Stallman, Rober t Wooster , 115-16 , 118, 133 , 138 Stevenson, Rober t Louis , 5 3 Stewart, J . I . M. , 126 , 132 , 133 , 196, 203- 4 Still, Colin , 13 2 Structure i n poetry , ho w define d i n contemporary "semantic" criticism, 102-9; varian t conception s of , 4-8. See Form ; Symboli c struc ture; Tensio n Subject-matter, ho w constitute d i n criticism, 17-19 ; ho w relate d t o method, 19-20 , 2 5 "Symbolic structure," 116-28 passim, 165 Symbols, modern interest in , 11 , 96, 98-100 Tartufie, 5 3 Tate, Allen, 100 Tempest, The, 132, 135 "Tension," 99 , 106-8 , 124-2 5 Theme a s a n analytica l concep t i n criticism, 99 , 102-3, 115 , 117-18 , 119, 120-3 9 passim, 165, 190. See Meaning; Tota l meanin g Theory, indispensabilit y of , i n criti cism, xi—xiv , 14 6 Thomson, George , 20 2 Thought i n poetry , 42-43 , 67 , 69 , 73-74, 154 , 186 "Three Ravens , The, " 118 Tillyard, E. M . W., 134-35, 196 "To Hi s Co y Mistress," 21 , 17 6 Tom Jones, 53 , 159 , 181 "Total meaning," 99 , 103 , 117, 123, 190 Tragedy, 6-7 , 15-16 , 25 , 53-54 , 65-77, 133-54, 136, 159-60, 162, 170-71. See Catharsi s Trilling, Lionel , 109 , 204-5 213

Trowbridge, Hoyt , 196 , 201 Troy, William , 201 , 202 Ulysses (Joyce) , 20 5 Victory, 118 , 133 , 138 Vocabularies, commo n an d special , in criticism , 4 , 42 , 97-99 , 119-20 Volpone, 15 9 Wagner, Richard , 13 7 Walker, Roy , 7, 121 , 126 , 203 Warren, Austin , 85 , 92 , 95 , 9 9 Warren, Rober t Penn , 4 , 84 , 100 , 102, 107-8 , 117-18 , 119, 120 Waste Land, The, 7 , 137 Webster, John , 16 2 Weinberg, Bernard , 19 9

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Wellek, Ren