March 17th, 1933
There is a sentence in Maritain’s Art and Scholasticismwhich occurs to me in this context: “Work such as Picasso’s,” he says, “shows a fearful progress in self-consciousness on the part of painting.” 1
So far I have drawn a few light sketches to indicate the changes in the self-consciousness of poets thinking about poetry. A thorough history of this “progress in self-consciousness” in poetry and the criticism of poetry would have kinds of criticism to consider which do not fall within the narrow scope of these lectures: the history of Shakespeare criticism alone, in which, for instance, Morgann’s essay on the character of Falstaff, and Coleridge’s Lectures on Shakespearewould be representative moments, would have to be considered in some detail. 2 But we have observed the notable development in self-consciousness in Dryden’s Prefaces, and in the first serious attempt, which he made, at a valuation of the English poets. We have seen his work in one direction continued, and a method perfected, by Johnson in his careful estimation of a number of poets, an estimate arrived at by the application of what are on the whole admirably consistent standards. 3 We have found a deeper insight into the nature of the poetic activity in remarks scattered through the writings of Coleridge and in the “Preface” of Wordsworth and in the Letters of Keats; and a perception, still immature, of the need to elucidate the social function of poetry in Wordsworth’s “Preface” and in Shelley’s “Defence.” In the criticism of Arnold we find a continuation of the work of the Romantic poets with a new appraisal of the poetry of the past by a method which, lacking the precision of Johnson’s, gropes towards wider and deeper connexions. 4 I have not wished to exhibit this “progress in self-consciousness” as being necessarily progresswith an association of higher value. For one thing, it cannot be wholly abstracted from the general changes in the human mind in history; and that these changes have any teleological significance is not one of my assumptions.
Arnold’s insistence upon order in poetry according to a moral valuation was, for better or worse, of the first importance for his age. When he is not at his best he obviously falls between two stools. Just as his poetry is too reflective, too ruminative, to rise ever to the first rank, so also is his criticism. He is not, on the one hand, quite a pure enough poet to have the sudden illuminations which we find in the criticism of Wordsworth, Coleridge and Keats; and on the other hand he lacked the mental discipline, the passion for exactness in the use of words and for consistency and continuity of reasoning, which distinguishes the philosopher. He sometimes confuses words and meanings: neither as poet nor as philosopher should he have been satisfied with such an utterance as that “poetry is at bottom a criticism of life.” 5 A more profound insight into poetry and a more exact use of language than Arnold’s are required. The critical method of Arnold, the assumptions of Arnold, remained valid for the rest of his century. In quite diverse developments, it is the criticism of Arnold that sets the tone: Walter Pater, Arthur Symons, Addington Symonds, Leslie Stephen, F. W. H. Myers, George Saintsbury – all the more eminent critical names of the time bear witness to it. 6
Whether we agree or not with any or all of his conclusions, whether we admit or deny that his method is adequate, we must admit that the work of Mr. I. A. Richards will have been of cardinal importance in the history of literary criticism. Even if his criticism proves to be entirely on the wrong track, even if this modern “self-consciousness” turns out to be only a blind alley, Mr. Richards will have done something in accelerating the exhaustion of the possibilities. He will have helped indirectly to discredit the...
