CHAPTER XVII THE PLACE OF CRITICISM IN THE STUDY OF LITERATURE This work is concerned, not primarily with literature, but with the study of literature. At this point, when we can take a view of literary criticism as a whole, it may be well to say a few words about the position of criticism in the whole study of literature. Literary criticism, in the broad view of it which has here been followed, takes us into the heart of the question what the study of literature ought to be. But it would seem that this question, at the present time, raises very little interest. The gentle reader is, not unnaturally, without plan in his culture. The academic world, laudably emphatic on thoroughness in execution, views with impatience discussion as to the philosophy of literary study. Yet philosophy is simply the theoretic side of what in its practical aspect is perspective: thoroughness apart from true perspective is as much a vice as a virtue. Now, it belongs to criticism to give the perspective of literary study. It is of the nature of a map: it would be ridiculous to substitute the map for the journey, but to set out on the journey without the map is only a degree less absurd. The position at the present time of criticism in literary study seems to me the reverse of what it ought to be. Literary criticism is made up of two elements: philosophic and historic. One is the attempt to arrive at theory of literature; the other is the succession of critical writings. Philosophic criticism is of fundamental importance: critical history has importance chiefly so far as it assists the philosophy of literature. Yet in the present state of the study, criticism appears in the form of critical history: interest in the philosophy of literature has almost disappeared. This last is-only one manifestation of the foundation error in this department of learning-that instead of the study of literature as a unit we have separate studies of separate literatures. The essence of philosophy is the relation of parts to the whole: a philosophy of literature is not to be looked for as long as the literature is being examined in separate sections by separate sets of students. On the other hand, the history of criticism has a place in academic schemes out of proportion to its real value. No doubt, in any division of the field of learning, the presumption is that the history of the particular study has a place. But it is clear that this presumption applies with very different degrees of force to different branches of learning. To take a simple example: in the study of arithmetic the history of the study will not be made conspicuous. Such a total revolution has come about by the adoption of the so-called Arabic notation, that all outside this is, for ordinary purposes of study, irrelevant. The complete mathematician will know all about other modes of numeration; to the general student they will be hardly intelligible. How many readers of this book could multiply ccclxxix by cclxxxvi?-unless indeed they translate these expressions into Arabic figures, when the problem becomes the simplest of sums. It seems, then, that the history of arithmetic justifies the small place assigned in the study to arithmetical history. Similarly, it would seem that the actual history of literary criticism discredits the theoretic importance of this critical history. As we have seen, its starting-point is the work of Aristotle: great in itself, but somewhat premature as literary theory, and formulated from very restricted sources. The next important point is the misunderstanding at the Renaissance of Aristotle's position, and the impossible attempt to make this a binding standard for literature in general. The subsequent history of criticism is the stormy discussion involved in the attempt to escape from a false critical position. Only quite at the end of the history do the fundamental ideas of modern thought find their way into conceptions of literary taste and the evolution of poetry. Here then, as in the other case, the general value of a line of study is discredited by the course of its history. The outline history of critical opinion is itself a part of the philosophy of literature; beyond this the critical texts fall into a secondary place. They have subjective value as so many items of literature. They have another kind of value: but this is outside literature, and belongs to history. In the history of the Renaissance, of France under Louis XIV, of the reign of Queen Anne, the critical writings of these periods are an element; in the history of the Greeks, or the French or the English, what these peoples at particular periods thought about poetry and drama is relevant evidence. But this is distinct from the value of the critical writings in their bearing on the conceptions of the literature. Our division of outer and inner literary study is pertinent to the question: the historic records of criticism belong, not to the intrinsic study of literature, but mainly to the literary side of history. On the other hand, that part of literary criticism which leads up to fundamental points in the philosophy of literature makes the essential groundwork of the whole study. Impatience of this whole idea of literary theory is self-deception: no one can handle literature without revealing his philosophy of literature, which, from his never having thought about it, may be an imperfect philosophy, or a bad one. Let it be conceded that the main thing is to get into contact with the literature itself. But we are not in real contact with the literature if, displacing theory by subjective criticism, we are letting traditional ideas of others come between us and what we read. We are not in contact with the literature if we are reading without true principles of interpretation, or if some unfounded static idea interferes with our flexibility of appreciation, and prevents our seeing the poem in its own light. We are in the most favorable position for intimate contact with the literature if we have so far conceived the unity of all literature as to be able to see the part in its relation to the whole. And all these things are just what makes the essence of literary theory. I am not assuming that the principles laid down in the preceding chapters on the criticism of interpretation and judicial criticism, on the fundamental conception of poetry, on the boundaries between static and evolutionary taste, will recommend themselves to all my readers. But I submit that the questions these discussions have raised are questions which everyone who wishes to understand literature himself, or who, as a teacher, has the responsibility of inducting others into literary appreciation, will have to enter into and settle for himself, either in theory or by his practice. And to whatever conclusions on these questions he may have been brought, I shall take leave to call those conclusions literary criticism. |