T H E INTENTIONAL FALLACY

B Y \V. K. \VIA.ISATT, J R .

AND

hl. C . UEARD,SL,EY

Ilc owns ~vitli toil Iic wrote tllc followillg sccncs;

Rut, if they'rc nauglrt, ne'er spare l~ini for his pains:
Damn liim the nlore; hnvc no conrmisc:ation
For dullness on nl;lturc dclibcr;ation.
W I I . L I I \CONCREVL,
~~
Prologue to
I'hr Il'ay 01 rhr N'orld

I
/

HE claim of thc author's "intention" upon the critic's

judgment h3s been challenged in a r ~ u ~ n b cofr rcccrlt dis:ussions, notably in the debate erltitled T h e Persor!nL
Ileresy, between Professors Lewis arld Tillyard, and at least i ~ n plicitly in periodical essays like those in the "Symposiums" of
1940 in the Southern and Kenyon Reviews.' But it seems doubtful if this claim and most of its romantic corollaries are as yet
subject to any widespread questioning. T h e present wl-itcr-s, in
a short article elltitled "Intention" for a Dictionnryl of literary
criticism, raised the issue but were unable to pursue its implicntions at any length. W e argued that thc design o r illtelltion of
the author is neither available nor desirable as a standard for
judging the success of a work of literary art, and it seems to us
that this is 3 principle which goes deep into some differences in
the history of critical attitudes. I t is ZI principle which accepted
or rejected points to the polar opposites of classical "inlitation"
2nd romantic cxprcssion. I t entails many specific truths about
inspiration, authenticity, biography, literary history a ~ l dscholnrship, and about gome trends of contemporary poetry, especially
its allusiveness. There is hardly a problem of literary criticism
in which the critic's approach will not be qualified by his viev
of "intention."
"Intention," as we shall use the term, corresponds to whnt /I!
, kffirtded in a formula which more o r less explicitly has had wid(
"itceptance. "In order to judge the poet's performance, we mu9
I

W I ~ I S A T A- rN D

UEARDSI~EY

469

~ auknow ~ o h n tIre i.vrc~~;lctl."Intcl1tio:1 is dcsigr~or plnll i r tllc

has obvious nfinities f o r the nutl~or'sattl~or's ~ n i n d . I~ltcntio~r
titudc toward his work, the way he felt, what 111;ldehim write.
\\'e begin 0111- discussion with a series of ~ ~ r o p o s i t i osum~~s
1r1;11.i7.cd
and abstracted to a degree whcl-e they scern to us axiomatic, .if lot truistic.
1 . A poeln docs not come into existence by ;iccidcr~t. T h e
words of n pcen.1, as Professor Stoll has remnrk(.ll, come out of
a hcad, not out of a hat. Yet to insist or1 the d c h i ~ n i n gir~teliect
ns a rnztse of a jloem is not to grant tile design 01. intention as a
stnntlnl-d.

2. 0 1 i e must :tsk how a critic: expects to get an answer to the

clucstinn alwut iiiterltio~l. I-low is he to find O L I ~wtlnc the poet
tried to d o ? If the poet succeeded in doing i t , tltel~the pocln itself
sI~a\vswhnt Ile wns trying to do. And if the poet did not succced, 1
then thc poem is not adcquntc evidence, and the critic must go
oliiside thc pocm-for
evide~lceof an intention tliat did not bec o ~ ~ cflective
le
in the poem. "Only one cacent milst be borne in
nlind," says an eminent intentionalist' in a moment ~vltcnhis theory rcpuijintes itself; "the poet's aim must be judgcd at the moinellt of thc CI-cativeact, that is to say, by the art of the poem
itsclf."
3. J i ~ d g i n ga poem is like judging a pudding or a nlachine.
Onc dcntnnds that it work. I t is only beczuse an ;irtifact works
that we infer the intention of an artificer. "A poellt slluuld not , !..
m n n but be." A poem inn be only through its ~~zcnning-si~ice .
its mediurn is words-yet
it is, sintply is, i n the sense that we have
Iltr excuse f o r i u q t i i r i ~ ~what
g
part is intended or nlcant.' Poetrv
i s :I fcnt of style by which a 9 & e x-- of meaning is tlandled 311
: ~ tonce. l>&try succccds because all or most of what is said or
imj~licclis rclcvant; what is irrelevant has been excluded, like
l u m ~ sfrom pudding and "bugs" from machinery. In tIlis re'I"ct poetry differs from practical messages, which are success-

..

. .

..-..

ful if and oilly if we correctly ;lifer tlic iiitciition. 'I'licy Jre

more al~stractthan poetry.
4. T h e rnea~liligof a poem may certainly be a persnlial nnc, i l l
the sense that a poeln expresses a personality or st:~tcof sot11
r3tlic1- tl~alla physical ohject lilte a n ripple. Rut even n sllurt
fvric poem is dramltic, the response of a speaker (no ~ n a t t c rliow
abstractly conceived) to a situation (no matter how universali ~ c d ) . W e ought to impute the thouglits and attitudes of the
poem immediately to the dramatic spenlser, and i f to tllc author
at all, only by a biographicnl'act of iiiference.
5. If there is any selise in which all author, by revision, has
better achieved his origil~alintention, i t is only the vcry ahstl-act,
1 tautological, scnse that he illtended to write a I~ctterwork and
1 now has done it.
(111 this sei~scevery author's irittntioll is t!lc
!
same.) 1-1;s former specific intentioil wns ilot 11;s irltcntio~l.
"k1e7s the man we were in searcli of, that's true"; says 1-131-dy's
10ustic constable, "and yct he's liot the man .we were i n search of.
120r the man we were in search of was not the man we wa~~ted."'

* * * * * * *

". . .

"Is not a critic," asks I'rofessor Stoll,

a judge, who does
lot explore his own consciousness, but determines the nuthol.'s
meaning or intention, as if the poem wcl-e a ~vill,a conti-act, 01thc constitution? T h e pocm is not the critic's o w n . " Y I c INS
: dingnosecl very accurately two fol-~ns
of i r r c s p ~ n s i b i l i tone
~ , wliicli
.-he prefers.
O u r view is yet different. T h e pocin is not the
cl-itic7sown and not the author's (it is detached from the authorat birth and goes about thc world beyoild'his power to ilitcrid
about i t or control i t ) . T h e poem bclongs to the public. I t is
embodied in language, the peculiar posscssion of the public, anti
it is about the human being, ah object of
knowledge. TVllat
is said about the poem is subject to the same scrutiny as nay
s!ateinent in linguistics or in the general science of psychology
01- morals.
Mr. 'Richards has aptly called the' poem a cla~r"a class of experiences wliirh do not differ in ally character ~noro
%

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I V l hlSA'l"r

AND

liT;AKI>SI.EY

47 1

.. .

thau n ccrtni~ia~nourit
from a standard er:pcricnce." And
I1e ;ldds, "M'e may rake as this starld;~rticspericllcc the relevant
csI~criuiceof the poct when culitcli~platingthe completed composition." 1'1-ofessor M'ellek in a fi~leessay on tllc pro1)lcnl lias
p r c f c r r ~ dto c:ill the poe111 "a systcln of ~iurlns," "ortr:ic~cd f1-0111
every il~dividualesj>crielice," and he objects tu h l r. I<icl1:1r.ds'
deference to the poet as re:lder. We side rvitli I'rofcssor If'eflck
i ~ not
i
wislii~lgto make the poet (outside the poenl) all authol-icy.
A critic of nitr Dic~iorraryarticle, b l r . /\nand3 K. Coolnaraswnn>y, has argued' that there a r e two kinds of eliqiiiry about n
work of art: ( I ) whether the artist achievcd his i~ltcntiuns; ( 2 )
tvhctllc~.the work of art tfougI1t ever to have been ~ ~ r ~ d ~ r t : i l ; e ~ i
a t all" and so "wliethcr i t is tvortll prescl-villg." Nurnbcr ( 2 ) ,
hll-. Coo~il;ir.nsw;ln>ymaintains, is not "criticisln of ally work of
art qua work of art," but is rather mural criticisln; 1iuit)cr .(I)
is artistic criticism. l h t we m:iintai~i tli:lt ( 2 ) rlccd 11ot 1)e ~ n o r ~ a i
criticisn): tIi:~t therc is anotlicl- way of deciding whcthcr n.01-1:s
of art nre worth preserving and whether, i l l a selise, they " o ~ i ~ f ~ t "
to Il:lve I>cerl undcl.t:tken, ant1 I his is he way of objective c.~.iticism
o f tvol.ks of i1rt ;is S L I C ~ ~the
,
\\:iy whicl) enables us to distiuguish
between n skilf~rlmurder and a skilful poem. A skilful ~llurdcr
is n u c s a n ~ p l cwhich M r . Coolr~;lraswa~~>y
uscs, and i l l his system
tiic cliffcl.encc betwee11 thc murder a~ict the pocni is si~uplya
"~!~bral"one, r~otn r l "artistic" olle, since each if cnl-l-ied out according to p l a l ~is ,"artistically" successful. TVc maintain that
( 2 ) is an enquiry of more worth than ( I ) , and since (2), and
not ( 1 ) is capalde of distinguishing poet1.y from n~l+l-dcr,the
name "artistic CI-iticisrn" is properly given to ( 2 ) .

It is not so much an empirical as an a~lalyticj~ldgment,not a

histol-ical stat rnelit, but a definition, to say that the ilitcl~tional
fallacy is a r >alltic011e. When a rhetorici;i~i,presumably of the
is the echo of a grcxt soul,"
first century A.D., writes: "S~rl)Ii~nity

o r tells us that "I-Iomer enters into the sublime actiolls of his

Ilcl-oes" nl?d "shares thc: f ~ ~ inspiration
l!
of the conib;~t," n.c sll;lll
riot bc surprised to find this rhetorician considci-ed as a dist:tllt
harbinger of romanticism and greeted in the warmest terms 11y
so rolnantic a critic as Snintsbury. Orle may wish to argue whether
Longinus should be called romantic,' but there call hardly bc n
doubt that in one important way he is.
C;octhe's tllree questions for "constructive criticism7' are "What
did the author set out to d o ? W a s his plan reasonable' and selisiblc, and how filr did he succeed in carrying it out?" If onc Ienvcs
out the middle qucstioli, ollc has in effcct the system of Crocctlic culnlination and crowliilig pllilosophic expression rof roinaliticisnl. T h e beal~tiflllis the successfi11 intuitiori-expression, atid
the ugly is the unsuccessful; the illtilition or private part of art
i t the aestllctic fact, and the medium or public part ig not tllc
subjcct of aesthetic at all. Yet aesthetic reproduction takcs ~ I ~ C C I
ctnly "if all the other conditions renlnin equal." ;
Oil-paintings grow dark, frescocs fxlc, statues lose rioscs . . .
the tcst of a pocm is corrupted I)y Ind copyists or l i : ~ t l prirltI ng.

T h e Madonlla of Cimahue is still i l l the Church of Snrita

Milria Novella; I ~ i docs
t
she sjieak to the visitor of to-cl;!y
as to the Flore~itiriesof the tllirtcentll celltury?

C,rO

-7

Hisro~icnlinterprc:n/ion labours

. . . to reintcgrnte in [is tlic

~~sycllolo~ical
conditions rvliic11 hailc clian$cd i l l the coursc
of history. I t . . ellnbles 11s to see n work of art (n pli!lsical
object) as its nzrrhor snw it ill the nlonletit of production."

T h e first italics are Croce7s, the secoild ours. T h e upshot of

Croce's system is an ambiguous emphasis on history. With such
passages as a point of departure a critic may write a close analysis
ji of the meaning or "spirit" of a play of Shakespeare or Cornei!le
1:
I -a
process that involves close historical study but remaills acs-

\VI.IISArI"I'

A'ND

IlEARUS1,EY

473

thct ic cri ticism-01- 11c n1:ly writc sociology, I)iography, or' other
..
ki~~cls
of ~~ul~-ncstllctic
Ilistory. I hc C r o c c : ~systcrn
~~
scclns to
Iiavc given lilorc of a I)oost to the .latter way of w r i t i ~ ~ g .
"TYl~nt has. the poct tr-icd to do," asks Spingnrn in his 191 0
Col u111l)ia Lect ~1r.cfro111 which we have already qi~oted,"and
how Ilas he fuitilled his intention?" 'l'he place to look for "insul~cr;~blc"
~~glilicss,
s~iysBosanquet, in his third Lec~~ll-e
of 19 14,
is the ':rcgio~i of illsincere and affected art." 'The secpngc of
the theory illto n ]]on-philosophic place may be scen ; I I such a
book :IS Marguerite Wilki~~son's
inspirational New Ifoicc~,about
the poetry of 19 19 to 193 1 -where synlbols "as old as the ngcs
. . . rctnin t l ~ c i rstrength and freshness" through "I<ealization."
W e close this section wit11 two exan~plcsfro111 qunl-ters w11el.c
olle 111ig11tlcnst ,expect a tnint of thECrocean. M r . I. A. ltichnrds'
~ O L I I - F O Idistir~ctior~
~
of ~ n e n ~ i i nillto
g "scnse," "feeling," "to~ic,"
"intcutioll" has been probably the most influential statement of
i~itentiolinlis~~i
in the past fifteen yeai-s, though it contains a hint
of sclf-1.cpudiatio11: "This function [inte~~tion:],"
says hIr. Rich:~rds,"is not on n l l foul-s wi:h the others." I n an cssny on "Thrce
Types of I'octl-y" M r . 111 I ~ I IT a t e writcs ns follows:
W e must understand that the Iincs
I..,ifc like a cio~neof marly-colored glass
St:lirls the white radiance of etcrliity
n1.e not poctl-y; t hey cx111-cssthe ~ ~ . I ~ s ~ I .will
N/L',I
trying tu conipctc with scie~lce. 'The soil1 asscrts
:I rhctol.ic:~l prol~ositionabcllt tllc tvliolc of Iifc,
but tlic ;r)i~rgi/ia?iorzhas not seized u p o ~ lt lie nlnterinls of the poem and n ~ a d ethem into a wholc. Shelley's si~nileis i~npcsedupon thc ~natcl-in1from
above; it docs not grow out of the material.

The last sc~itcncec o ~ i t n i ~a ~promise

s
of obkctive
-..-analysis yhich
is not fulfilled. T h e reason why the essay relies so heavily
t h r o ~ ~ g I >011
o~~
tlie
t terms "will" and "imagination" is that Rlr.
. L t c is accusing the ro111n11ticpoets of a kind of illsincerity (ro-

\,

lnanticism i n reverse) and at the same time is tryilig to d c s c r i l ) ~

so~netllingmysterious and perllnl>s indescribable, all "i~nngir~;it;\.c
tvholc of life,'' a "wlloleness of vision at n particular rnoulcllt
of espcrience," so~ncthingwhich "yields us the ~1~1:ility
of t l l ~
espericncc." If a poet had a toochnclle at the nlomcllt [JI ct!~:
cciving a poem, that tcould be part of the expc~.icrtcc, h u t A l l - .
T a t e of course does not mean at~ythillglike that. I-Ic is tIli11k
ing about sonle kind of.--.."whole!' which in this essay a t Ic:l>t IIC
docs ilot describe, b ~ which
~ t
doitbtless it is the prinle 11ccd of
criticism to dcscl-ibe-in terms that !nay bc puhlicly tested.

I went to the poets; tragic, dithyrambic, 2nd a11 sorts. . . .

I took them sonle of tllc nlost elnbol-ntc p~~ssagcs
i l l thcil.

own writings,. and aslied what was the meaning of tllc111.. . .

TVill you bzi~evcme? . there is hatadly a person p~.cscllt
who would not harx talked better about their poct1.1~~ I I ~ I I I
they did themselves. Then I knew that not ky wisdcm do
poets write poetry, but by n sort of g c n i ~ ~and
s ir>sjil.:ttioll.

. .

'

T l ~ n reiterated
t
i>listl-ustof the poets wl>ich we hehr fl-otn S o c ~ - ; i ~ c , ~
IIUV have been part of a rigorously ascetic view i l l whic!? \YC
hardly wish to participate, yet Plato's Socrates saw a t r ~ ~ ~t Ih, I I I I I
'Jt tlie poetic inind which the world no longer commot~ly sccs--'so much criticism, and that the most inspiratio~~al
and most oll'cc.
tionately renlembered, has proceeded from the ports thc~nscl\lc..
Cert;~inlythe poets have had something toi say that the nnnlyst and professor could not say; their nlessage hns been morc
escititig: that poetry should come as naturally as leaves to a trcc,
that poetry is the lava of the imagination, or that it is en~otior~
;; , * I recollected in tranquillity. But i t is oecessfiry that we rcalize rllr
character a ~ l d.authorit): of such testin>ony. Tilere is orlly n f i l ~ c
shade between those romantic expressions and a kind of earrlrst
advice that authors often give. T h u s Edward Young, Carlylc,
Walter Pater:

I k~iowtwo g o l d c ~ lrulcs from erllics, wlrich arc

less
golctclr in Co/nosiriorr, than in life. 1. K n o w tlryself; Zdly,
I( e . ~ e ~ . e / ~rlryselj.
,re
110

This is the grand sccrct for finding rcildcrs and retaiiii~lg

thcm: Ict 11ii.n who would move illid convince otlrers, be first
norl led a11J collvillced himself. l-Iorace's rulc, Si cis w e
I1c1.c) is alll>licaLle i l l a wider x n s c than tlie literal one. T o
every poet, to cilcry writer, wc miglit say: Ije true, if yoti
~ v o t ~ ll)c
d I)cljeved.
T r ~ i t h !there can he no merit, no craft at all, witho~rtthat.
11nd fui-t1le1-,all 1)e;l~rtyis i l l the long run oirly filzc~~tss
of
t r l ~ t h ,or w I ~ we
t call espression, the filler acco~i~modatioil
of spcccl~to that vision within.
And Housmali's little hnildbook to the poetic mind yields tlie
following illl~strntion:
I-Invil~gdrunk a pint of beer at luacheon-beer :i a sedative
to the l)i.aiii, and 111y after110o1.i~
are the 1e;lst intellcct~ral
purtioli of 111y life-I
would go out for a walk of two or
thrce Irours. As I went along, thinking of nothing in partic~ilnr,o ~ r l ylooking at things around ine and followil~gthe
progress of the seasons, there would flow into my mind,
with sudden and unaccountable emotion, so~netirnes.a line
01- two of \'erse, sometimes a whole stanza at once. . . .

'l'his is the logical terminus of the series already quoted. Here

is a confessio~lof how poems wcre written which would do as
a definition of poetry just as well as "cniotiori recollcctcd irl
tr~nric~~iIlity"-nIld t~liichthe youiig poct n~iglitequ;llly well t:~kc
t c ~ hc:i~-t ns a practical rule. Drink a pilit of bcer, relns, go
\\.;tlkiiig, thii>k 011 nuthing i l l particular, look at tlriilgs, surrcndcr
!.uur-sclf to youi-sclf, search for the t r ~ r t hi t ; your own soul, listen
to the sound of y o ~ r rowl1 inside voice, discover and express the
a a i e vkrirl'.

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I t is probably true that all this is exccllent~advicefor poets.

'The young imagination fired by Wordsworth a ~ i d C;irlylc is
probably closer to the verge of producing a poem than the mind
of the student who has been sobered by Aristotlr: or Ilichards.
T h e art of inspiring poets, o r a t least of inciting s o m c t i ~ i ~like
~g
poetry in young persons, has probably gone further i l l our day
than ever before. Rooks of creative writing such as those issued
From the Lincoln School are interesting evidence uf wlint a child
an d o if taught how to mmnage himself honestly.'" All tliis,
however, ~vouldappear to belong to ari art separate from criticism,
o r to a discipline which one might call the psychology of composition, valid and useful, an individual and
culture, yoga,
o r system of self-devclopme~it which the y o u l ~ gpoet would do
well to notice, but different from thc public scierice of evaluating
poems.
Coleridge and Arnold were better critics than most poets have
been, and if the critical tendel~cydried up the poctry i l l Arl~old
and perhaps in Coleridgc, it is not i11consistcn.t with our argunlent, which is that judgmerit of poems is d i f f e r e ~ ~from
t
the art
of producing them. Coleridge has given us the classic "a~lodyne"
story, and tells what he can about the genesis of a poem which
he calls a "psychological curiosity," but his definitions of poetry
and of the poetic quality "imagination" are to be found elscwhere and in quite other terms.
The day may arrive when the psychology of composition is
unified with the science of objcctive evaluation, but so far they
are separate. I t would bc convenient if the passwords of the
intentional school, 16sincerity," "f;dclity," "spont:~~icity," "nuthenticity," "ger~uitlcncss," "originality," could bc cqu:~tcdwith
terms of analysis such as "integrity," "relcvn~~ce,""unity," "function"; with "maturity," "subtlety," alld uadequacy," and otlicr
more precise axiological terms-in
short, if "expression" always
meant aesthetic communication. But this is not so.
"Aesthetic" art, says Professor Curt Ducasse, an ingenious

\Vl h l S A T T

AND

UEARDSLEY

477

theorist of exprcssion, is the conscious objcctification of feelings,

ill which an ;rlt~.insicpart is the critical momelit.
T h e artist corrects the objectific;~tionwhen i t is not adequate, but this may mean
that the.c;~r.lic~.
a t t c ~ n p twas nut successful in objcctifying the
self, or "it rimy also inean that i t was a successful objectification
of a self which, when i t co~lfro~lted
us clearly, we disow~ledand
repudiiltcd in favor of a~iother."" W h a t is the standarg by which
we disown or accept thc self? Professor I)ucasse does not say.
\Vliatever- i t mrly bc, however, this standard is all elcmerlt in tlic
dcfiaition of art wl~icliwill not reduce to terms of objectificatiori.
?'lie evaluatiorr of the work of art remains public; the work is
rneasi~redagainst somet liing outside the author.

'l'hcre is criticism of poetry and there is, as we have seen,

author psycliology, which when applied to the present or future
takes tlie for-m of irlspiratiol~alp1.onlotio11; but at~tllor~~sycliology
can be historical too, and then we h a t e literary biography, a
legitimate arld attractive study in itself, one approach, as 311..
Tillyar.d would argue, to personality, the poern being only a
parallcl approach. Certainly it need not be with a derogatory
purpose that one poir~ts out" pers011a1 studies, as distinct from
poetic studies, irl the realm of literary scholarship. Yet there
is danger of corlfusir~gpersorlal and poetic studies; and there is
the fault of writing the personal as if i t were poetic.
T h c r e is a diffcrellce between internal and external evidence
for the mearii~igof a poem. And the paradox is orlly verbal
nt~ds~rperficinlthat what is ( 1 ) internal is also public: i t is discovcrcd t l i r o ~ ~ gthe
h semantics and s y ~ ~ t aofx a poem, tlirough
o l ~ r h;lbitu;ll krlowledge of the Ia~iguage, through grarnrn;lrs,
dictionaries, and all tlie literature which is the sotlrce of dictioiinries, in general t!lrough all that makes a langunge and culture;
while what is (2) external is private or i d i ~ s ~ ~ i c r a tnot
i c ; a Ixlrt
of the work as a linguistic fact: i t consists of revelations (in

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'

journals, for example, or Ietters or rcportcd conversations) ltbout

i how or why the poet nfrote the poem-to wl~atlady, ivliilc sitti~lg
I on what Iawn, or at the death of what friend or brotlicr. Tltel-e
is ( 3 ) an intel-~nediatckind of evide~tccabout the character of
, the author or about private or semi-private n~caniligsattaclicd
: to words or topics by an author or by a coterie of- whicl~hc is a
member. T h e n~eaningof words is tile history of wolds, and thc
' t~iogrxphyof an author, his use of a word, and tlte xssoci;ltions
j whirl1 tile word had for hirn, ?re part of the word's history arid
meaning." But the three typcs of evidence, espcci:tlly i 2 ) allti
!3), s2tade illto one allother so subtly that it is not nlwilys c:isy
to dr:lw a line betwcen exa~nplcs,and hence arises t l ~ cdifl;cult).
for criticis~n. T h e iisc of biographicnl evidcricc ~ l c c d11ot illvol\.c
inte~~tionalism,
becausc wllile i t nl:ly bc evide~lcc of wllnt tlic
author intcndcd, it nlny also bc e v i d e ~ ~ cofc tile nic:111i11gof llis
words and the dramatic ch;li-acter of his utternllcc. 011tlic otl~crhand, i t may not be a11 this. And a critic who is conccr~tcdwith
evidcnce of type ( 1 ) and moderately with that of type (3) will
in the long run produce a diffe~.e~,tsort of colnlncnt from tlint
of thc critic who is concerned with type (2) and with ( 3 ) whcl-c
i t shades into (2).
l'lle whole glittering parade of I?rofcssor ~ ~ o w c sl {' :o n d l o
Xa~zntltr, for instance, rllrls nlong the border bctwcc~ttypcs ( 2 )
and ( 3 ) or boldly traverses the roma~lticregion of ( 2 ) . " 'ICubla
Khan'," says Professor Lowes, "is the fall-ic of ;i vision, but cvcry
inlage that rose up in its weaving had pasded that way bcfore. And
it would secm that thcre is ~ ~ o t h i nhapliazlrd
g
or fortuitous i l l
their return." This is not quite clear-not even when Professor
Lowes explains that there were dusters of associatio~is,Iikc hooked
jatoms, which were drawn into coniplex relation with other cli~sters in the dcep we11 of Coleridge's mcmory, a ~ i dwhich then
I coalesced and issued forth as poems. If there was lo thing "tinphazard or fortuitous" in the way the images r e t u r ~ ~ etod the surface, that may mean ( 1 ) that Coleridge could not produce what
8

ilc did not llzvc, that he was limited in 11;s creation by what hc
had read or otherwise experienced, or ( 2 ) tliat having rcceivcd
clusters of associations, he was bound to rcturil thcln in
jtrst the way he did, and that the valuc of thc poeln may be
tjcscribcd i l l terms of the experiences on which lie had to dr:l\rt.
'The Iiitter pair of propositions (a sort of Hartleyali associationism
\vllicl~Coleridge liirnst.lf repudiated i l l thc B;ogmp/:ir~) may not
be assc~itcdto. T t ~ c r ewere certainly other combi~intio~i~,
other
~,ocms,worse or- better, that nliglit have been writtell b y nlen who
J , : I ~ rend 1in1.trnm and Purchas and Bruce and n ' l i l t o ~ ~ .And
this will Oc true 110 nl:~ttcrhow many t i ~ i ~ cwe
s arc ablc to add to
1~ l c
bri J l i n ~ i tcomplcs of Colcridgc's I-caciing. 111cer-t;iir~flourisl~cs
(such ;IS tlic sclitcrica {vc 'liavc qtlotcd) n l ~ di l l clinptcr l ~ c n d i ~ ~ g s
likc "'1'11~Si~:ll)irlgSl~irit," "The I\.lagic;~lSy~itl~csis,""I~nngi~lnti011 Cl.c:~t~.is,"i t rimy bc that l'rofcssor Lorvcs ~ ~ r c t c ~ to
i d ssay
.
11101.c: I ~ X ) L I the
~
actunl poems than he clocs. 1here is a cc~.tai~i
deceptive vxt.intio11 in these fancy chapter titlcs; one expccrs to
J,;ISS 011 to a new stnge in the argument, nnd one finds-niore
:~lld~ l ~ o Sr OeL I ~ C C S ?inorc about "the strcnmy naturc of associntio~!.""
"C\rohi~~d c r W c g ? " quotes l'rofcssor 1,owcs for the motto of
Ilis book. "Kcill Weg!' 111s U~ibetrctcnc." i'rcciscly because
tht: wny is u~rberrelen, we should say, it leads away from thc
!~oc~ii.Bartram's Y'rl2ycls contailis a good dcnl of thc history of
certain words n l ~ dromqntic F l o ~ - i d acoaccptions
~~
that appcnr in
"Kubla Khan." And a good deal of that history has passed
:111d was tlicn passing illto the very stuff of our la~lguxge. Per11nl)s a person who has rend Barti-am appreciates the pocm morc
t11n11 o ~ l cwlio lias not. O r , by l o o k i ~ ~ugp the vocabulary of
"Kubla Khan" in the Oxford E n g l i ~ hDiitionnr-y, or by r c a d i ~ ~ g
sonic of t l ~ co t l ~ e rbooks there quoted, a person m;ly k~iowthe
poem better. 13ul it would seem to pertain little to tlie poem to
know that Coleridgs had read Bartram. T h e r e is a gross body
of i:f:, ?f sensory and mental experience, which lies behind and

The argumerlt is 111ausiLlcand rests on a well-siibstantiatcd thesis

tllat Doriric was d c c l ~ l yi~itercstedi l l the ricw astroliomy and its
repcrc~~ssiulls
i l l tllc tl~culogicalrealm.
I11 vi~riousworks I)orine
shows his f;~nlili;iritywith Kepler's D e 5'1611~Nova, with Calilco's Sidai.irrs Nltiriirrs, with W i l l i a ~ nGilbert's V s M ~ g n ~ f and
c,
lr-itll Cl;~vii~s's
colnlnclitary on the U s Sp.hrrera of S;~crol~osco.
ljc I-cfers to the new science in his Serlnon at Paul's Cross a ~ i d
i l l a letter to Sir H e ~ i r yGoodyer. In 7'he Firs1 An?tiz.e~-srr~.y
he
5:lys t t ~ e"~lcwpl~ilosol,tly calIs all in doubt." 111 tlie .Ef:'lzgyo n
I),.incsI - / e ~ ~ he
r y says that the "least movi~igof the center" ~iiakes
" t t ~ eworld to stlake."
I t is diflicult to alis\vcr argument like this, a~id'impossil,feto
arlswcr i t wit11 e~idcriccof like nature. T h e r e is 110 reason why
I > o ~ i ~might
ic
not have written a stanza in which the two ki11.d~of
ctlcstial tr~otionstood lor two sorts of emotion at parting. &\lid
i f we becorl~e full of ~stroriomicalideas and see D o n ~ ~only
e
ng:~ilist the background of tlie new science, we may bclier-c: that
Ilc did. Hilt tht: teyt itself remailis to be deaIt with, the a;ialyz;~blevehicle of a complicated metaphor. And one may ol~scrve:
( I ) that tht: rnovcment of the earth according to the Copcr~iica~l
tt~coryis a celestial motion, smooth and regular, and wtlile it
might cause religious or pliilo:;ophic fcars, i t could not be associ:~tcdwith ttie crlidity and e a r t h i ~ ~ e sofs the kind of co~n~l>otion
rvliich the speaker in the poem wishes to discourage; ( 2 j that
tlrere is ariother moving of the';earth, an earttiquake, whit 11 has
just these qualities and is to be associated with the tear-floocls and
sigh-tempests of the sccond stanza of tlie poenl; ( 3 ) that '(trepidation" is an appropriate oppdsite of earthquake, because each is
;L sllalcing or vibratory motion j' and "trepiclation of the spticres"
is "greater far" than an earthquake, but not much greater (if
tnro such nlotions can LC compared as to greatness) than ttle an~lunl
niotion of the carth; (4) that reckonir~gwhat it "did a ~ i dnicant"
stiows that the event has passed, like an earthquakc, not like t!le
ir~cessant celestial movement of the earth. I'crhaps a kriowl-

in some sense causes cvery poem, but can never be n ~ i dn c c ~ i1l0t

be known in the verbal and hence intellectual conlpositio~l~ ~ I l i c l l
is the poem. For all the objects of our manifold esperic~icc,
especially for the intellectual objects, fol* everjr unity, thel-e i b
al: action of the ~ n i n dwhich cuts off roots, melts away contestor indeed we should never have objects or ideas 01- anytIli1,g to
talk abont.
It is probable that there is nothing in Professor 1,owes' \.:I>[
book which could detract from anyone's appreciation of eitllcr
The Anr.ient Mariner or K~cblaKhan. Ifre next present n c;~sc
where preoccupation with evidence of type ( 3 ) has gone so fill.
as to distort n critic's view of 3 poem (yet a case not so oln''lot15 ;I\
those that abound in our critical journals).
In a well-known poem by John Donne appears the follorvi~lg
quatrain:
Moving of th' carth brings harn~esand fril-cs,
M e r ~reckon what it did and mcnnt,
But trepidation of the splienres,
Though greatcr farre, is illnocent.

A recent critic i n an elaborate treatment of IJo~lne'sJen~.lii~ig

!i;~s
written of this quatrain as follows:

. . . he touches the elnotional pulse of

the situ;itio~l by :i
skillful allusio~lto the new and the old qstrouomy. . . 0 1
the nerv astronomy, the "moving of the enrtll" is the most
radical principle; of the old, the "trepidation of the sphcrcs"
is the motiou of the greatest complexity. . . . As the p o c ~ n
is a valedictio~lforbidding mourni~lg,the poct n,Lt>t cullol.t
his love to quietness and calm upon his departure; n~icifor
this piirposc the Ggnrc bnscd upon the lnttcr ~ u o t i o ~(trepii
dation), long absorbed into the tr-sdit;o~inlnst~.o~iuuiy,fittingly suggests the tension of the momelit urithoi~tn r o u s i ~ ) ~
thc "hnm~csand fcares" implicit in the figure of the rno\fing earth."

,':

edge of Donne's interest in tile new sciencc may add n~lothcr

shade of mcaning, all overtone to the st::llzn in cl~icstioll,tl~ougll
to say even this runs sg:~instthe words. T o make the geo-cc~ltric
and helio-centric antithesis the core of the metnpI~or-is tu dis1.cgard the English language, to prefer private evidclicc to ~ ) ~ ~ l l l i c ,
external to internal.

I f the distinctio~lbetween ki~ldsof evide~lcehas inil~licatioris

c T
\

for the historical critic, i t hils t h c ~ nno lcss for the collte~ilpo~.;~~.y
poet and his critic. Or, since every rule for n poet is l)ut nnothcr
side of a judgment by a critic, rind since the past is tlic ~.c:~lni
of
the scholar and critic, and the future and presc~itthat of the poct
and the critical 1cadcl.s of taste, we may say that the problcms
arising in literary scholnrship from tllc intentio~ial f ; ~ l l ; i carc
~
matched by others which arise i l l the world of progressive esperiment.
T h e question of "nllusivencss," for example, as acute1 y poscll
by the poctry of I.':liot, is ~ e r t a i n . 1one
~ where a falsc judgtne~it
~
is likely to involve the interltional fallacy. 'The f r c q i ~ c n ca1ic1
depth of literary a l l u s i o ~i11
~ the poetry of Eli@ and others. Ii:ls
drivcn so many i ~ pi~rsuit
i
of full mcani~lgsto the boltfu,r Uotrph
and the Elizabctha~idrarna that i t tias bcconle a kind of co~nrno~lplace to suppose that we d o not know what a poet lncarls u~tlcss
we have traced Ilim in his reading-a suppaitior~redolent wit11
intentional imp1ications. T h e stand taken by M r . I;. 0. M a t .
thiesscn is a sound onc and partially foi-cstalls thc difficulty.
If one reads tliese lines with an attentive ear a ~ l dis ser1siti1.c
to their suddcn shifts in movement, the coritmst Lctwcc11 ttic
act1131 Thamcs 3 r d the iclexlizecl visio~lof it during all 3s~.
before it flowed through a megalopolis is shar.oly cor~vcyc~l
by that movement itself, whether or not one rccug~lizest l ~ c
refrain to be from Spenser.

WfhlSATT AND

DEARDSLBY

483

Elic,tls a l l u s i o ~ ~work
s when we know thcm-;ind to ;I grcat cxtc~it
c\,cil whc~iwe d o ~ i o kilow
t
them, through thcir suggcstivc powcr.
J i t ~solnctimcs
t
we fi~id;illusions supported by ~lotcs,and it is a
\.cl-y ~iiccq~tcstionwhet he^. the notes fu~tction more as guides
to send us ~vtiet-ewe may be educatcd, or nlore as indic;~tiotisi l l
tllc~nsclvesabout the ctiaracter of the allusions. "Ecarly cvcrything of i~npol-ta~icc
. . that is apposite to au npprcciatio~iof
''I'he 1,V;tste Land'," writes M r . Matthiesscn of Miss I&'esto~l's
book, "has bcen incorporated into the structure of the poem its c j f , 01- illto Eliot's Notes."
And with s ~ c hall ndmissio~lit may
[)cb'ili to nppcnr that i t would not much inattur if Iiliot invented
Ilis sour-ccs (as Sir 1Y:llter Scott iilventcd chapter epigraphs from
l(c)Idplays" a11d ((ano~~ymous"
authors, or as Colcridge wrote
~n;u-~ilial
glosscs for "The Ancient Mariner").
Allusions to
I ) ; ~ ~ l tLVcbstei.,
e,
hllarvell, or Baudciaire, doltbtlcss g a i ~ somcttii~lg
i
t,cc;tuse tt~cscwriters existed, but i t is doubtful whether the sanie
c;ilt bc said for at1 allusion to all obscure Klizal)ctl~nii:

soutid of horns and tnotol-s, which stla11 briitg

Slvecney tu Mrs. Porter in the sprirlg.

?'tit:

-('f. Day, I'ar-liar1ze71f of Bees:" says Eliot,

When of a sudden, listenitig, you shall ticxt.,
A noise of Ilol-11sand h t ~ ~ l t ~ w
n gt ~, i c lshalt
~
t)r-i~lg
Actaeon to Uin~iain the spt-ing,
FVt)ct.c all sli:111 see l ~ c r11akcd skit]. . . .
'I'he iroily is completed by the qttotntioi) itsclf; had Eliot, as is
qt~itcco~lcenceivnble, con~poscd thcsc litics to f~lrnisti his ow11
I):ickground, there would bet no loss of validity. T h e cot~victioii
inny grow as one reads Eliot's next note: "I do not k~lo\vthe
origi11 of the ballad from which these lines are taken: i t was
1,cported to me from Sydney, Australia." T h e importailt word i l l
this note-n
Mrs. Porter and her daughter who washed their

"ballnd."
Alid if one shoi~lclfeel f1.t,111
tlie lines thcn~sclvcstheir "ballad" quality, tliel-c ~ ~ ~ o lbc
i l dlittle
need for the note. L!ltimntely, the inquiry must focus 011 tllc
iliccgrity of such notes as parts of the pocnl, for wllcrc thcy c ~ l l stitute special i1ifo1-mation about the rncaning of idi~-;~scs
ill tlir:
poem, they ouglit to be subject to the same scrutiny ns :illy of t l l c
other words in which it is written. M r . Ivlntthiesse~ibclieves t l l v
notes were the price Eliot "had to pay i11 order to nvoid what Ilc
would have considered muffling the energy of his pocln by c s tended connecti~iglinks i l l the text itself.'? But i t may be qucstioned whether the notes 2nd the need for them arc not ecl~iall!
muffling. T h e onlissio~lfrom poems of the expla~lntorystl.;itii~~>
c.11 whicti is built the dramatic or poetic stuff is a dangcrou>
responsibility. M r . F. TV. Bates011 hns plausibly argued t l i : l ~
'Tcnnyson's "The Sailor Roy" woilld be better if hnlf the st:t11z:i5
wcre omitted, and the best versions of ballads like "Sir l';~tl.ick
Spens" 01r7c their power to the very audacity with whicli tiic
minstrel has taken for granted the story up011 whic!~lle com~ncllts.
What then i f a poet finds he cannot take so much for gral~tedi l l
a more recondite context nnd rather than write i~lf(~r~nntivel).,
supplics notes? I t can be s;?id in favor of this plan ttl:lt at lc:~>t
the notes d o not pretend to be dramatic, as tiley woultl i f ~ v l - i i t c ~ ~
in verse. 011the other hand, the notes may look like LIII:ISsin~ifatcdmncerial lying loose beside tlie ~ O C I I I , necessary for tltc
i:3 meaning of the verbal symbol, but not iategmtcd, so that tliv
symbol stands incomplete.
I
UTe mean to suggest by the above analysis that whcl-ens 11otcs
tend to seem to justify tI~emselvesas, external i~~de?tcs
to t l ~ s
author's intention, yct thcy ought to b'e j i ~ d g e dlike any o t l , ~ , ~ .
parts of n colnposition (verbal art-angcmellt special to a partici~lnl.
contcxt), and whcn so judged tlicir rcnlity as parts of tlic I,ocnl,
01. their imaginative integration with the rest of the poem, nla!.
come into question. 1Mr. Matthiessen, for instance, sees thnt
Eliot's titles for poems and his epigraphs are informative appnrafcct in soda water-is

W I ~ I S A ~ A~NTD

UEARDSLEY

185

tuj, like thc ~lotcs. Hut while he is worried by some of the 11otcs

211d tliiriks thxt 1;Iiot ";~ppc;crsto be niocking Ililnsclf for writillg

tllc note at the snlllc til~lcthat he wants to convey s o n ~ e t h i l ~by
g
it,)' MI-. M ; l ~ l i i c s s e lbclieves
~
that thc "device" of cpigrqt'lis
$'is: !lot at all o j ~ c to
~ i thc objection of not being s~~fficiently
stl-uctu~.nl.""The i u i e u l i a ~ l he
, ~ ~says, "is to ellable thc poct to secure
.Lcolldcnsed expl.ession in the poem itself." "In cach case the
cl)igl-nph is desigrzetl to form all integral part of the effcct O F the
O O C I ~ . " And Eliot himself, in his notes, has justified his poetic
l)r.acti~e
in t e r m of intel~tioll.
T)le Harigcd M a n , a member of the traditio~lalpack, fits
niy purpose in two ways: because fie is associated in lnv mind
wit11 the I i a i ~ ~ God
e d of I:razc;., and Ixxause I associntc hi111
with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to
I
S i
I t 1. .
Ttic marl with ?'fir-cc Staves (an
aiitticr~tic~ n c m b e rof the Tarot pack) 1 associntc, quite arbitrar-ily, with the Fisher King himself.

..

\ n J perhaps he is to be taken more seriously here, when off guard

s note, thall when in his Norton Lectures he comnients on the
,Iiiliculty of snyitlg what a poem means arid aclds playfully that
i,c t I ~ i ~ ~ofk sp r c f i x i ~ ~to
g a second editio~iof AJ/Z IJ7edrrestkoy
.olilc lilies from Don Junn:

I dori't pretend that I quite u11de1-sta11d

M y ow11meaning when I would be v e r y fine;
Rut the fact is that I have ~ i o t l l i ~ pla1111ed
ig
Ul~lcssit were to bc a mornelit merry.

I f I'liot 2nd othcr- coiitcrnporzry pocts have any chal-acteristic

i.~ulr,it rnay bc i r t p l o ~ c ~ z itoo
r ~ ~much.'"
:\llusivc~icssin poetry is onc of sevcl-a1 critical issues 1)y wllicl~
IVC t ~ : ~ villustrntcd
e
the more abstract issue of i~~tclttiollnlis~n,
Lilt
it rnay be for today the most i m p o r t a ~ ~illustration.
t
As a poetic
p~.;~ctice
allusiveriess would appear to be in some rccent p o k l ~ ia11
~

..,,
cxtremc coro]l;ll.y of the: romar~ticii~tcntionnlistassu~~lption,
and
as a cl-itirnl issiie it challcllgcs and brings to light in ;i spccial !\.;iy
the basic yl.crnisc of irltelltionnlism. T h e follo~vingi ~ ~ s t n ~flrcoc~ n
!he poetry of I<liot may serve to epitonlize the practic:ll inlplic,!.
tions of wh;~twc have bceri saying. I n Eliot's "Love S O I Iof~ J .
Alfred I'~-ufrock," to~v;t~.ds
the end, occurs t l ~ eJi~ie:"I have hc:il.~l
the ~ n e r ~ n a i dsi~~girlg,
s
each to each," and this bears a certain I-cscnlblance to a line in a Song by Joiin Donrle, "Teach m e to h c ; ~ ~ . i
i'\,lcrmaides sir~ging," so that for the reader acquainted to a ccrtail1 deGrcc wit11 Ilonnc's i ~ o c t r ~ the
r , cr.itic;ll cluestion ariscs: I,.
: I < l i ~ t line
' ~ a11 a l l u s i o ~to~ l)on~lc's? I s 1'1.~1f1.ocktIli!iki~ig ; I I I , ~ L I ~
[ I o n ~ ~ eIs, Eliot thinking about Ilonnc? W e suggest tti;~tt h c ~ . ~
are two radically d i f f e l - e ~ways
~ t of 1ool:ing for
aliswer to thi.
question. ?'here is ( 1 ) the way of poetic ailalysis 2nd escgesis,'
Ivhicl~ inquires whether i t makcs any serise if E l i o t - P ~ . ~ ~ F ~ -i.;o c k
thinking about Donne. I n an earlier pail? of the poem, whc~l
P~.ufrockasks, "M'ould it have been worth while, . . 'To lla\.c
squeezed the utlivel-se illto n ball," his worcis t ; ~ k ehalf. tlici~.
sadness and irony f r o ~ neel-tain energetic 311d passionate li~lcsof
Marvel "To H i s Coy Mistress." Rut the cxcgctic;~! inquil.cr
may wonder whcther nlerlnaids corlsidcred as "str;~nge sigl~ts"
( T o hcxr them is i11 I)on~lc's poem : I I I : I J ~ ~ O L I S ti) g c t t i ~ i g\ \ . i t I ~
child a m:tndmkc root) have much t; d o witti I'ruh-ock's ~ n c r 3
maids, which sccm to be synlbols of romnncc and dy~l:lmisrn,: r r l ~ l
3
which i ~ ~ c i d c ~ ~have
t a l lliterary
~
autlie~ltication,if they nccrl it,
in a line of a solliiet by GCrard d e lu'erval. 'This ~ n c t h o dof i l l quiry may Jead to the c o ~ ~ c l u s i otAat
r ~ thc given r c s c ~ n b l a ~ ~bccc
tween Eliot and Donrle is ~ i t h o u tsigrlificn!ice and is better not
thought of, 01- the method may have the d i s a d v a ~ ~ t aof~ eproviding no certzin c o ~ ~ c l i ~ s i o nNevertheless,
.
we subniit that this
is the true and objective w2y of criticis~li,as co~ltrnstcdto wImt
the very ~~llccrtainty
of exegesis might tcmpt a sccolld kind of
critic to undertake: ( 2 ) the wny of biographical or genetic inquiry, in which, taking advantage of the fact that Eliot is still

3 1 i \ 1 ~ ,

and
writes

sl)irit of a man wllo w o ~ i l d~ c t t ka b e t , the

to Eliot a ~ r dasks wt1;lt he Inennt, or if he had nonrlc

ill t h e

ill mind.

W e sII;LII I I O ~ here weigh the prob:ibilitics-wt~etl~er

:E.liot would answcr t h a t - h e meant ~ ~ o t l l i na gt ail, Ilnd notfling a t
I;;1Il i l l - m i n d - a
sufficiently good answer to such a q u e s t i o n - o r
I.
:.n an i~nguardedm o n l e l l t n ~ i g ! ~fu1.11ish
t
n clcsl. and, w i t h i l l its
i'
Our poirlt is t h a t such n n aris!vt.l to
i linlit, irrefutable answer.
b \ l c l ~ an i l i q l r i r y would ha.cpe n o t h i r l g to do with the poem ('l'ruitock;" it would not be a critical inquiry. Critical inquiries, t l n likc bets, a r e n u t settled i l l this way. C r i t i c a l i~icluiriesarl. c l o t
s c t t l c d by c o n s l l i t i n g the oracle.
I

FOOTNOTES

'Cf. Louis 'rectcr, "Scholnrshiy and tile Art of Criticisin," EL![, V (Scjlr. 1938).
17,-9); RCl\c \%'ellck, revicrv of GcolIrcy l'illotson's Esrnyr in fiitrcirrrt c ~ r dXrr,~l~rrh.
.!iqrl,.rrl IJhiio!osY, X L I (May, I Q H ) , 262: G. l~'i1s011Knigl~t, Sli~rl:rrpcnr,. LIIIATIC/jr,,v Enclisl~ Association Pan~plrlcr No. 66 (;lpril, IS);)), p. l o : Bcrn:trd C. Ilcyl.
.\.I:; L)rlrri,~grin l~rtfrrticr nttA Art Criticirrx (New IIavcn, 1943), pp. 66. I 13, 149.
' D i r l i o ~ l n r o/
~ li'orld Litrnlt~irc,cd. Joscilh
Slliplcy (Ncw Ydrl:, 11)24), 1>1. ;:G-j,)
'I. E. S.~ i l.t p ~ r I.1.h~
u,
NU\VCriticis111,'' in Crb;rilr,r n ~ r d:l~r~rrirrr( N c n Yo1 l . 1 9 : ~ )

'r.

rj1. 2-$-25,

rlitics nlrd tcaclrcrs cot~stn~>tly

Jo. "\\!c II;I\.c hcrc n d liltc~.nlc tjlu:ri~~;:.. . .'
"SI.o~rlJ [llis !;c rcgar~lcJ ns ironic or as 11rtl>l:1r1ncd?"". . . is thc litcrtl trlc:~rrir~cil:
1
t i 1 i i n c ~ J It o C
I , . '
I
, . '
. . . p r o of : c i i o i i
:Ire clloscl) iro!li tl~r-.-I.par:$
!cr111u to llrc that If,:rbcrt intcrl<lr. . ." 'l'lzbc ctta~t~ldcs
,,! 311 issttc of 7'/ic Lxp/ia.utor ( Is'rcJc~icl:sl~i~r~.
Y;I.), vol. 11, 111). 1 (act., ! , + I 1 ) . .\I
11;~rsofrcn judgc tl~cirowl) rvorl;s ill 11rc snlnc way. Scc l'hir ir :Ify llfrt, a 1. \\'It
Iluructt (Ncji. 1'01k, t942), e . ~ . ,pp. 53'1-.(0.
'I\ closc rclativc of tllc intc~ltional fal1.1cy is t11;ct of tal1i1)g ntbour "III,..~
t."
'.r.jld" in poetry instcrd of "part" and "~vltolc." W c Itnve trcatcd this r ~ l . ~ ~ lcu* ,n.
ci~clyin our dictionary article.
'E. 1.:. Stoll, "l'llc Tcmpcst," PhfLA, X L I V (Scpt. r g j z ) , 703.
'r\ilanda #. Coonnrns\~-am),," l r ~ t e ~ ~ t i o nTIIC
, " d~tccricnr~
Dookn~un,I (\Viilccr, 194.1
41-4s.
'I'or ~ l l crclation of Longinus to m d c r l r ron~nnticis~n,scc R , S. Crane, rcvicw
Sallluet I\.lo~~l:'sI'i~cSr~bliir:~,
Phtlologkal @~lnrt;rly, Xi' (April, 1936), 165.66.
'It is l r t ~ ctllnt Croce l~ilnsclfill his Ariolto. Shnktsptnrr, a u d Cor~~rilic.
trans, Do1
1.1s i\inr)ic ( L O I I ~ O I1920),
I,
Cllaptcr Y l I , "'l'ltc l'ractieal I'c~.soi~nli~y
and tllc I'octi
I'c:roo:llily," and in his 1):jrnrr 01 Potfry, tmos. E. F. Carritt (Oxford, 1c)j3), p.
11.1s dclivtrrd s ~ c l l i t ~attack
g
on intc~~tionalisrn,
but tlrc prcvtlilir~g drift ol surll 1
s ~ g c si ~ r thc Acrrhttic as we quore i s in tllc ~j.~tosircdirsction.
"Scc llughes h.lcarns, Crca<ivr Yoltrh (Gardcn City, r925), csp. pp. 10, 17-29. ':
tcchniquc of inspiring poems keeps pace today with a p;~:n~lclalrnlysis of thr 1
ccss of inspiration in successful artists. See Rosanrond E. h l . Ilatdi~tg,All I,.,rfon~!
Ir\s