cleanth brooks - literary history vs criticism

8/3/2019 Cleanth Brooks - Literary History vs Criticism

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Literary History vs. Criticism

Author(s): Cleanth Brooks, Jr.Source: The Kenyon Review, Vol. 2, No. 4 (Autumn, 1940), pp. 403-412Published by: Kenyon CollegeStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4332194 .

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LITERATUREN DT I T E PROFESSORS

I. LiteraryHistory vs. CriticismBy CLEANTH BROOKS, JR.

THE modernEnglishdepartments notoriouslyasyto attack;and it is most obviously exposed to attack by the stupid,or trifling,or plainly muddle-headedbooks, articles,dissertations,and theses which its machinery commits it to turn out. Evenrandom quotation from these exhibits allows one to make out acase against it. This is not the attack which I propose to makehere - not that I disparageit. I think that it is healthful to re-mind ourselves constantly of the amount of rubbish which weproduce. But there is a measure of justice in the obvious reply,that no system is to be condemned by the incidental stupidities

of some of its proponents. A certain amount of waste, a certainamount of folly, may be the necessaryconcomitantof the practi-cal functioningof any plan of English studies. Be that as it may;I am anxious to get at the systemitself-and at its best, not onlyas a matter of fairnessbut of strategy.I suppose that it would be generally agreed that the late Pro-fessor Edwin Greenlaw was one of the ablest scholars that thesystem has produced, and that his Province of LiteraryHistorystands as one of the most intelligent defenses of the aims pursuedby our best departments. In that work, Greenlaw undertakesto


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404 KENYONREVIEWassess the rival claims of the criticsand the literaryhistorians.The followingpassage s typicalof his position:

One looks upon the building of a modern cathedral uch as St.John the Divine in New York or Mount St. Alban in Washington.To it he brings whatever gifts he may possess of interpretation.It may seem merely an enormouschurch. That is the fact. Hemay compare,if more instructed, ts architecturewith that of thecathedralof medieval Europe. That is the role of the critic. Buthe may also, if he is instructed n minor personalitiesand out ofthe way bits of history,rememberinghow few, after all, have sur-vived in the memoriesof men, think of Raoul Glaber who ninecenturiesago looked upon the outburst of ecclesiasticalbuildingin Franceand wrote that the world seemed everywhere o be dis-cardingits old garments n orderto put on a white vestmentof newchurches. Thus through eyes long turnedto dust one becomesawareof that white vestmentthrough which men have sotught o expressbrief human experience,and our contemplationof St. John's orMount St. Alban gives a new sense of the continuity of humanexperience. . .

To providesuch a visionthrougheyes long turned o dust,then,is the functionof the historian. The critic's unction s tocomparehe architecture ith thatof other churches. It is obvi-ous that in terms of this distinction he criticoccupiesa ratherpiddlingrole. One notes also that, though the critic must be"more nstructed"han the mere observer f the brute fact, thehistorianmust be further nstructedtill-to the point of famili-aritywith "outof thewaybitsof history." The historian tandsat the topof anascendingcale.It is amusing o observe hat Allen Tate, in a recentarticlein whichhe too attempts o definethe critic's unction,also usesarchitectureor his illustration,hough presumably nawareofGreenlaw'spriorreference o it. ForTate, the critic's unctionis to understand he cathedralas an architectunderstandst, toperceive he functionand meaningof the variousparts n rela-


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HISTORY S. CRITICISM 405tion to the whole fabric,to knowthe cathedral s an integratedorganism.Mr.Tatewrites as a poetand criticbutpresumablye wouldnot demand hatthe studentdemonstrateis knowledgebybuild-ing a cathedralof his own, humancapabilities eingwhat theyare. Rather,he evidentlymeansto suggestthat the studentofthecathedral hould ryto see it as thearchitectwouldsee it, andindeed,canonlyunderstandt as architectureby seeing t in theseterms.Now I do not intend o driveeitherTate or Greenlawntoanabsurdantithesisof the other'sposition. Obviously,Mr. Tatewould not deny the valueof being ableto placethe object n itshistorical ontext,just as Greenlawdoes not deny the value ofcriticalcomparisons. But it is perfectlyapparent hat the criti-cal discipline or ProfessorGreenlaws far morelimitedanddrythanit is for Mr. Tate. Criticismdealswith comparisons;hearchitect'sisiondoes not appearn his schemeat all. Evidently,he assumeseither that suchknowledgeof innerstructures per-fectly obviousor thatit comesas a matterof course roma thor-ough acquaintancewith history. But the inner structureof agreat deal of literatures not obvious;and it does not comeofitself froma studyof literaryhistory.The averageEnglishprofessorbears iving testimony o this.He has been trained (if he comesfrom one of our betteruni-versities) in linguisticsand the history of literature. He pos-sesses a great deal of information,valuable and interestingnits own right,and of incalculable alue for the critic. But hehimself is not that critic. He has little or no knowledgeof theinnerstructure f a poem or a drama (this is not to saythat hedoesnot know the pastcriticalgeneralizations n it!); he is ig-norantof its architecture;n short,he often does not knowhowto read. The charge s a graveone andought to be documentedup to the hilt. Unfortunately,ntilone of thelarger oundationsis willing to equip a sufficiently eterminedparty of explorers


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406 KENYONREVIEWand to furnish them with sufficientcredentials, t probablycannotbe documented,at least in a fashion sufficientlyobjectiveto satis-fy the hard-bittensceptic.

Shortof this, and for the purpose in hand, one may be contentwith a more modest point: namely, whateverhis own attainmentsin the art of reading literature, the average professor has notbeen able to teachhis studentshow to read. (This has been docu-mented up to the hilt.) I hasten to disavow for the English pro-fessor the good officesof the teachers colleges of the country. Itis not out of their armoriesof psychological gadgets and contri-vances that he is likely to be equipped. I suggest that this is tobe accomplished by critical training in the architectonicsof liter-ature ratherthan by mere training in literaryhistory.The location of the "mere" is important;for it is hardly pos-sible to have training in criticism without training in literaryhistory. Literaturecannot be taught in a vacuum. Literaryhis-tory we shall scarcelyavoid if we are to read the literatureof thepast at all. On the other hand, it is possible to have literaryhistory and no criticaldiscipline; as a matter of fact, that is whatwe now have.

The real question, then, is not whether we shall study thehistory of literature,but rather: aboutwhat center will this histo-ry be organized? About the study of literature as an art? Orwill the history be a historyof social customs,or of literaryfash-ions, or of literary personalities, or even of particulareditions?There are many histories.We may be sure that scholarlyconsciencewill see to it thatthe facts gathered are facts and that the presentation s objective.But the scholarly conscience of the historian qua historian canhardly guaranteethat they will be referredto any center; and thecenterof referenceis all-important. A few years ago one of ourlearned journals printed a scholarlyarticle on animals in modernpoetry. The animals were there, and were duly classified andcounted, the wolf, the stallion, the beaver,and even the fabulous


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HISTORYVS. CRITICISM 407unicorn. But the elaborate statistics functioned in a void. Howeach animal got into each poem and what he did there - whetherthe poems were good, bad, or indifferent, and what mite eachanimal contributedto the sum - these questions,perhapswisely,were not raised. The article is typicalof hundreds which in theirsubjectsare not so patently ludicrous. (I believe that in the so-cial sciences such studies are sometimes referred to as exercisesin man-hole-covercounting.)Professor Greenlaw is obviously not interested in countingman-hole-covers. His concept of history provides as a center ofreference an interest in the human spirit. But his scheme seemsto me at once too wide and too narrow: on the one hand, he pro-poses nothing less than a historyof humanculturewhich will useliterature as its material but surelymust also make use of philos-ophy, political history, economics, theology, etc. On the otherhand, he seems to proceed continually on the assumption thatthe specificproblem of readingand judging literature s complete-ly met in the processof learningthe meaning of words, the politi-cal and philosophical allusions, the mental climate in which thepoem originated, etc., etc. In other words, if I read him correct-ly, Greenlawwould have us "get" an Elizabethanpoem by a totalrecoveryof the whole Elizabethanmenage of which the poem isa part. This is magnificent. It is a doctrine of perfection, andis thus a tribute to the scholar who insisted upon it. But thereis a measure in all things. As a practical matter, few studentsof literature will be able to recover the whole scene. Moreover,if we grant that the student has recoveredmuch of it, still it ispossible that he may know self-consciouslymuch more about theperiod than Shakespeareor Campion ever knew and yet knownothing about the problems of craft which alone would enablehim to understandwhat Shakespeareand Campionwere up to. Somuch for the best young scholars.When we come down to the bastardizationsof the method,we find, of course, man-hole-covercounting in plenty. Finally,


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408 KENYONREVIEWconsider he studentwhois proceeding o his B. A. - who is notto be trained o be an Englishprofessorn orderto teachotherstudents o be Englishprofessors. It is easy to understandwhyhe should earn,even from the best of orthodox nstructors,ittleornothingabout iterature. The recovery f past culturebecomesspreadrather hin in the pages of a "survey ourse." The litera-ture gets lost in the process; t becomesmerelyan illustration fcertainculturalprocesses,or survives, f it survivesas literatureat all, in termsof the instructor'sersonal nthusiasms.Somuchfor the consequences f teaching iterature s history.This emphasison historyoccasionally akesan extreme ormby insistingon a completely elativistic ositionon values. (I donot mean,by the way, to saddle this specialvariantuponGreen-law.) The question: s this a good poem, becomesa nonsensequestion. Good for whom? The well-accouteredelativistwillundertakeo explainwhat thevarious18thCenturyritics houghtof the poem and why, what the 19th Century ritics houghtandwhy. But he has no opinionof his own. If one asks whatthe20th Century hinksof thepoem,he is glad to supply he answerby meansof the questionnairendthe comptometer.He exhibitsall the admiredmpartialityf the scientist.But completerelativisms a positionat once too heroicandtoo doctrinaireo appeal o theaveragemember f theprofession.He prefers o userelativism rimarily s a meansof refugefromcriticalattack. Actually,he cheerfullyentertains, hough oftenin the kitchen t is true,whole congeriesof literary udgments.Forexample,he is happy,whendiscussinghe Elizabethanonnet,to insist that we take into account"thespirit of the age," "thevagariesof Elizabethanaste,"etc. But Shelley'spoems,for ex-ample,are real poetry,with no nonsenseaboutit; and modernpoetry,when occasionallyt swims into his ken, is judged byRomantic tandards uiteas a matterof course. If he broughthis own unconscious estheticup into the light for inspection,he mighthavea higherregard or trainingn aesthetics.


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HISTORY S. CRITICISM 409I have spoken respectfully of Professor Greenlaw's defenseof historicalscholarshipbecauseI do respectit. But even Green-law has confused the issues in making his case by gratuitous re-ferences to "scientificlearning," "minute research,""masteryoffact." For his implied equation of literaryhistory with "science"remains at the level of metaphor. His flirtation with scientific

terminology, consequently,has its importancein revealing a sig-nificant state of mind.The desire to imitate the objectivityof science permeatesthewhole profession. It dogs even those sporadicattempts to treatliterature as an art. For example, considerthat remarkablebook,New Methods for the Study of Literature. The first chapterstates its purpose frankly enough: "We have, then, a curioussituation. While the study of the environment of literature isconducted on the most modern scientificprinciples, the study of

literatureitself, as distinct from its environment,has not develop-ed." The New Methods, of course, are to be scrupulouslyscienti-fic. As Professor J. M. Manley explains (in the preface whichhe contributes): " . . . in all the sciences of organic life analysisis a necessarypreliminaryand an indispensableaid to the under-standing of the complete functioning of the organismas a whole.Certainlywe shall never learnthe secretsof style by merelymoon-ing over them or by ejaculatingadmiration." This is true enough;but the effort to shy away from "mooning" has been so violentthat it has carriedthe book over into a fake scientificmethodologyof the most elaborate kind. We get plans for statistical graphsof thought patterns, correlationsof the use of monosyllables byShakespeareand by Marlowe, methods for cataloguing the kin-aesthetic images in Shelley and the thermal images in Keats.Method for method'ssake is here completelyout of control. ForProfessor Greenlaw'shistory of the cathedral,the New Methodsproposes nothing less than a molecular analysis of the limestoneand glass of which the cathedralis built.Here, for example, is an illustrationof the machineryprovided


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410 KENYONREVIEWto treat the disposition of vowels and consonantsin the line, "Soall day long the noise of battle rolled." (I dispense with thechart.)

s u TotalL 4b......1 ........SN . 2.... ..--..-----0-. ..-------2M....0....1 . .1C -- - -- - - - 2 ( 1) ------ ---------- --------- 2 ------ --- --- --- --- --- --- 4F -- - - -- - - 3 --- --- --- --- -- --- --- --- ----- 0 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 3S . ....4(.)...... 4 -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - 1 ( 1) -------- ------- ------ 5

26V 8---------------- 2 10------------------V 40 per cent (high)Cn 12(2).2--- 4(1) 162.4.--- Cii 19 per centDominance:B; SL----------------.-C-. . .....; SLDistributionof Stressedand Unstressed Patterns2 2 2 3/ 4 3 4 20 R R R F/ r PR f Pr DF

/2 2 2 6Summary

Vocalic quality s high; and 60 per cent of the vowels are backvowels.Voiceless consonantsare low; one of the two being used togive propulsiveforce at the beginning. Of the consonants, iquidsand voiced stops make up 62 per cent. The combinationof backvowels with sound movement from voiced stop to liquid givessonority.The stressedsounds are more than three times the unstressed,which are only three slight interruptionsby groups of two. Thesymmetryof groupingis interesting:S,2 2 2; 3 4 3 4; U, 2 2 2.The patternsarenot balancedbut massed:a groupof three "R"followedby "F" in the firstspeechgroup,all stressed; n the second,"P R" and "P r." separatedonly by "f" and then "D F."


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HISTORYVS. CRITICISM 411Taking achspeechgroupas a unit,we find n the firstmostofthe sounds n the upperhalf of the clef; in the second,moreinthe lower. The invertedsymmetryn the last three groupsiscurious.The high-stressedoundsare massed n threesand twosin thefirst speechgroup andone at the end of the second.

Now no one knows better than myself (who have been guiltyof some rather extended analysis of eight-line poems) that it re-quires a good deal of space to try to point out in prose the waysin which a poem gets its effects. What troubles me here, there-fore, is not the bulk of the analysisbut the trifling quality of theresults gained - and more important, sought. Surely one isjustified in feeling that this is monstrous; but one half-penny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack!

In fairness to the profession I do not think that these NewMethods for the study of literatureare much practised. But thebook - it could have been produced only in an American Uni-versity - is eloquent of two things which are typical enough ofthe average English department:a cheerful sacrificeof imagina-tion to objectivityand a fond over-confidence n the virtues ofmethod. Supposewe do correlate the auditory mages of Toornaiof the Elephantswith the gustatoryimages of that work. Perhapswe shall have difficultyin showing the relevanceof our statisticsto the "meanings"of the story. But nevermind; at least we shallhave gathered facts. Humble though they be, we have added tothe ever-increasingpyramidof knowledge.It is my consideredopinion that the English departmentwillhave to forego the pleasures of being "scientific." (This doesnot mean that it has to divorce itself from intelligence or collapseinto impressionistic"mooning.") But it is high time for it togive up its searchfor an easy way out of its problems. There isno substitutefor the imagination (tainted with subjectivity houghit may be); and there is no substitute for the inculcation of thediscipline of reading (a discipline that involves active critical


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412 KENYONREVIEWjudgment). The uncriticalpursuitof "facts," he piling up ofverifiedknowledge, the gatheringof historicaldata - thesethings,however audable n themselves, re essentially idelines.If the professionacks an interestn literature s literature, heymaybecomeblindalleys. Someof us feel thatis whattheyhavealreadybecome.

II. Scholarsas CriticsBy ARTHUR MIZENER

THE basic function of the literaryscholarwas clearly indi-cated by Dr. Johnson when he remarked that "all workswhich describemannersrequirenotes in sixty or seventy years"ifthey are to be understood. The significanceof a remarkof thiskind depends almost entirelyon the conceptionof understandingwhich lies behind it. For Dr. Johnson undestanding was a seri-ous and adult act involving the whole man, an act of evaluationand judgment. "The truth is," he said, "that the knowledge ofexternal nature, and the sciences which that knowledge requiresor includes, are not the great or frequent business of the humanmind. Whether we provide for action or conversation,whetherwe wish to be useful or pleasing, the first requisite is the relig-ious and moral knowledge of right and wrong . . . . Prudenceand justice are virtues and excellencies of all times and of allplaces; we are perpetually moralists, but we are geometriciansonly by chance."

It is largely this involvement of the whole man which hasgiven Dr. Johnson his reputation for a kind of perverse criticalblindness. For him a work of art was a serious representationof the human world; it had to be true. It is far more important,for example, that he sought thus earnestlyto evaluate the worldof Milton's poetry than that the judgmentwhich resultedwas, as

cleanth brooks - literary history vs criticism

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