T H E INTENTIONAL FALLACY

BY \V. K. \VIA.ISATT, J R . A N D 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

HE claim of thc author's "intention" upon the critic's judgment h3s been challenged in a r ~ u ~ n b c r of rcccrlt dis- :ussions, notably in the debate erltitled The 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 doubt- ful i f 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 implicn-

I tions at any length. W e argued that thc design or illtelltion of

I 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 i n / 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 d scholnr- ship, 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 or less explicitly has had wid( "itceptance. "In order to judge the poet's performance, we mu9

I

W I ~ I S A T - r A N D U E A R D S I ~ E Y 469

know ~ o h n t Ire i.vrc~~;lctl." Intcl1tio:1 is dcsigr~ or plnll i r ~ tllc au- tl~or's ~n ind . I~l tcnt io~r has obvious nfinities for the nutl~or's at- titudc toward his work, the way he felt, what 111;lde him write.

\\'e begin 0111- discussion with a series of ~ ~ r o p o s i t i o ~ ~ s sum- 1r1;11.i7.cd and abstracted to a degree whcl-e they scern to us axio- matic, .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 dchi~ning ir~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 do? If the poet succeeded in doing i t , tltel~ the pocln itself sI~a\vs whnt Ile wns trying to do. And i f the poet did not succced, 1 then thc poem is not adcquntc evidence, and the critic must go oliiside thc pocm-for evide~lce of an intention tliat did not be- c o ~ ~ l e cflective in the poem. "Only one cacent milst be borne in nlind," says an eminent intentionalist' in a moment ~vltcn his the- ory rcpuijintes itself; "the poet's aim must be judgcd at the mo- inellt of thc CI-cative act, that is to say, by the art of the poem itsclf."

3. J i~dging a 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 Il t r excuse fo r iuq t i i r i~~g what part is intended or nlcant.' Poetrv i s :I fcnt of style by which a 9 & e x -- of meaning is tlandled 311 - : ~ t once. l>&try succccds because all or most of what is said or imj~liccl is rclcvant; what is irrelevant has been excluded, like

l u m ~ s from pudding and "bugs" from machinery. In tIlis re- 'I"ct poetry differs from practical messages, which are success-

. . . . . . . - . .

ful if and oilly i f we correctly ;lifer tlic iiitciition. 'I'licy Jre more al~stract than poetry.

4. The rnea~lilig of a poem may certainly be a persnlial nnc, i l l the sense that a poeln expresses a personality or st:~tc of sot11 r3tlic1- tl~all a physical ohject lilte a n ripple. Rut even n sllurt fvric poem is dramltic, the response of a speaker (no ~na t tc r liow abstractly conceived) to a situation (no matter how universal- i ~ 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~al intention, i t is only the vcry ahstl-act,

1 tautological, scnse that he illtended to write a I~ctter work and 1 now has done it . (111 this sei~sc every 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 i f the poem wcl-e a ~vill , a conti-act, 01-

,q thc 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 rcsp~ns ib i l i t~ , one wliicli ' .- he prefers. Our view is yet different. T h e pocin is not the cl-itic7s own and not the author's (it is detached from the author- at 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, a h 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 c la~r- "a class of experiences wliirh do not differ in ally character ~noro

I V l h l S A ' l " r A N D l i T ; A K I > S I . E Y 47 1

thau n ccrtni~i a~nourit . . . from a standard er:pcricnce." And I1e ;ldds, "M'e may rake as this starld;~rti cspericllcc the relevant csI~criuice of the poct when culitcli~plating the completed com- position." 1'1-ofessor M'ellek in a fi~le essay on tllc pro1)lcnl lias p r c f c r r ~ d to c:ill the poe111 "a systcln of ~iurlns," "ortr:ic~cd f1-0111 every il~dividual esj>crielice," and he objects tu h l r. I

or tells us that "I-Iomer enters into the sublime actiolls of his Ilcl-oes" nl?d "shares thc: f ~ ~ l ! inspiration 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 do? W a s his plan reasonable' and selisi- blc, and how filr did he succeed in carrying it out?" If onc Ienvcs out the middle qucstioli, ollc has in effcct the system of Crocc- tlic culnlination and crowliilig pllilosophic expression rof roinali- ticisnl. T h e beal~tiflll is 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 prirlt- I ng.

T h e Madonlla of Cimahue is still i l l the Church of Snrita Milria Novella; I ~ i t docs she sjieak to the visitor of to-cl;!y

C,rO as to the Flore~itiries of the tllirtcentll celltury? -7

Hisro~icnl interprc:n/ion labours . . . to reintcgrnte in [is tlic ~~sycl lolo~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- I -

\ V I . I I S A r I " I ' A ' N D I l E A R U S 1 , E Y 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.c fro111 which we have already qi~oted, "and how Ilas he fuitilled his intention?" 'l'he place to look for "in- sul~cr;~blc" ~~glilicss, s~iys Bosanquet, 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 r strength and freshness" through "I o ~ ~ t 011 tlie terms "will" and "imagination" is that Rlr. .L t c is accusing the ro111n11tic poets of a kind of illsincerity (ro-

lnanticism i n reverse) and at the same time is tryilig to dc sc r i l )~ so~netlling mysterious and perllnl>s indescribable, all "i~nngir~;it;\.c tvholc of life,'' a "wlloleness of vision at n particular rnoulcllt of espcrience," so~ncthing which "yields us the ~1~1:ility o f 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 - . Ta te of course does not mean at~ythillg like that. I-Ic is tIli11k ing about sonle kind of .--.. "whole!' which in this essay a t Ic:l>t I I C docs ilot describe, b ~ ~ t which 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~evc me? . . . 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 ~ ~ s and ir>sjil.:ttioll.

' T l ~ n t reiterated i>listl-ust of the poets wl>ich we hehr fl-otn Soc~- ; 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 h ~ I , I I I I I

'Jt tlie poetic inind which the world no longer commot~l y 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;~inly the poets have had something toi say that the n n n -

lyst 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. Thus Edward Young, Carlylc, Walter Pater:

I k~iow two goldc~l rulcs from erllics, wlrich arc 110 less golctclr in Co/nosiriorr, than in life. 1. Know tlryself; Zdly, I( e . ~ e ~ . e / ~ , r e rlryselj.

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, i f yoti ~ v o t ~ l d l)c I)cljeved.

T r ~ i t h ! there can he no merit, no craft at all, witho~rt that. 11nd fui-t1le1-, all 1)e;l~rty is i l l the long run oirly f i l zc~~tss of t r l~ th , or w I ~ t we 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~g drunk 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 par- tic~ilnr, o~r ly looking at things around ine and followil~g the 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~l of how poems wcre written which would do as a definition of poetry just as well as "cniotiori recollcctcd irl tr~nric~~iIlity"-nIld t~liich the youiig poct n~iglit equ;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 th i t ; your own soul, listen to the sound of yo~rr owl1 inside voice, discover and express the a a i e vkrirl'.

I t is probably true that all this is exccllent~advice for 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 ~ ~ g like 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, ~vould appear to belong to ari art separate from criticism, or to a discipline which one might call the psychology of com- position, valid and useful, an individual and culture, yoga, o r system of self-devclopme~it which the youl~g poet 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~cy dried up the poctry i l l Arl~old and perhaps in Coleridgc, it is not i11consistcn.t with our argu- nlent, which is that judgmerit of poems is d i f fe re~~t from 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 elsc-

' where and in quite other terms. The day may arrive when the psychology of composition is

1 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," "nu- thenticity," "ger~uitlcncss," "originality," could bc cqu:~tcd with terms of analysis such as "integrity," "relcvn~~ce," "unity," "func- tion"; with "maturity," "subtlety," alld uadequacy," and otlicr more precise axiological terms-in short, i f "expression" always meant aesthetic communication. But this is not so.

"Aesthetic" art, says Professor Curt Ducasse, an ingenious

\ V l h l S A T T A N D U E A R D S L E Y 477

theorist of exprcssion, is the conscious objcctification of feelings, ill which an ;rlt~.insic part is the critical momelit. T h e artist cor- rects the objectific;~tion when i t is not adequate, but this may mean that the.c;~r.lic~. a t tc~npt was 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~l ted us clearly, we disow~led and repudiiltcd in favor of a~iother."" What 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~icli will not reduce to terms of objectificatiori. ?'lie evaluatiorr of the work of ar t remains public; the work is rneasi~red against 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~al p1.onlotio11; but at~tllor ~~sycliology can be historical too, and then we ha 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~g persorlal and poetic studies; and there is the fault of writing the personal as if i t were poetic.

Thcre is a diffcrellce between internal and external evidence for the mearii~ig of a poem. And the paradox is orlly verbal nt~d s~rperficinl that what is ( 1 ) internal is also public: i t is dis- covcrcd t l i r o ~ ~ g h the semantics and s y ~ ~ t a x of 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 dictioii- nries, 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 t i c ; not a Ixlrt of the work as a linguistic fact: i t consists of revelations (in

journals, for example, or Ietters or rcportcd conversations) ltbout i how or why the poet nfrote the poem-to wl~at lady, ivliilc sitti~lg

' 8

I on what Iawn, or at the death of what friend or brotlicr. Tltel-e is (3 ) an intel-~nediatc kind of evide~tcc about the character of

, the author or about private or semi-private n~caniligs attaclicd : to words or topics by an author or by a coterie of- whicl~ hc is a

member. T h e n~eaning of words is tile history of wolds, and thc ' t~iogrxphy of 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 ~ c difl;cult). for criticis~n. T h e iisc of biographicnl evidcricc ~ lccd 11ot illvol\.c inte~~tionalism, becausc wllile i t nl:ly bc evide~lcc of wllnt tlic author intcndcd, it nlny also bc ev ide~~cc of tile nic:111i11g of llis words and the dramatic ch;li-acter of his utternllcc. 011 tlic otl~cr- hand, i t may not be a11 this. And a critic who is conccr~tcd with evidcnce of type ( 1 ) and moderately with that of type (3) will in the long run produce a diffe~.e~,t sort of colnlncnt from tlint of thc critic who is concerned with type (2) and with ( 3 ) whcl-c

I i t shades into (2).

> l'lle whole glittering parade of I?rofcssor ~ ~ o w c s ' : l { ond l o Xa~zntltr, for instance, rllrls nlong the border bctwcc~t typcs ( 2 ) and ( 3 ) or boldly traverses the roma~ltic region 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 n g hapliazlrd 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~s- , ' ters in the dcep we11 of Coleridge's mcmory, a ~ i d which then . . I coalesced and issued forth as poems. If there was lo thing "tinp-

hazard or fortuitous" in the way the images r e t u r ~ ~ e d to the sur- face, that may mean (1 ) that Coleridge could not produce what

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~itcd to. T t ~ c r e were certainly other combi~int io~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:~ttcr how many t i ~ i ~ c s we arc ablc to add to 1 ~ l c bri J l i n ~ i t complcs of Colcridgc's I-caciing. 111 cer-t;iir~ flourisl~cs (such ;IS tlic sclitcrica {vc 'liavc qtlotcd) n l ~ d i l l clinptcr l ~ c n d i ~ ~ g s likc "'1'11~ Si~:ll)irlg Sl~irit," "The I\.lagic;~l Sy~itl~csis," "I~nngi~ln- ti011 Cl.c:~t~.is," i t rimy bc that l'rofcssor Lorvcs ~ ~ r c t c ~ i d s to say . - 11101.c : I ~ X ) L I ~ the actunl poems than he clocs. 1 here 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 r e S O L I ~ C C S ? inorc about "the strcnmy naturc of associn- tio~!.""

"C\rohi~~ dcr Wcg?" 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 ~ d romqntic F l o ~ - i d a ~ ~ coaccptions 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. Per- 11nl)s a person who has rend Barti-am appreciates the pocm morc t11n11 o ~ l c wlio lias not. Or , by l o o k i ~ ~ g up the vocabulary of "Kubla Khan" in the Oxford E n g l i ~ h Diitionnr-y, or by r c a d i ~ ~ g sonic of t l ~ c o t l~e r books there quoted, a person m;ly k~iow the poem better. 13ul it would seem to pertain little to tlie poem to know that Coleridgs had read Bartram. There is a gross body of i:f:, ?f sensory and mental experience, which lies behind and

The argumerlt is 111ausiLlc and rests on a well-siibstantiatcd thesis tllat Doriric was d c c l ~ l y i~itercsted i l l the ricw astroliomy and its repcrc~~ssiulls i l l tllc tl~culogical realm. I11 vi~rious works I)orine shows his f;~nlili;irity with Kepler's D e 5'1611~ Nova, with Cali- lco's Sidai.irrs Nltiriirrs, with Wi l l i a~n Gilbert's V s M ~ g n ~ f c , and lr-itll Cl;~vii~s's colnlnclitary on the U s Sp.hrrera of S;~crol~osco. l jc 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 y Goodyer. In 7'he Firs1 An?tiz.e~-srr~.y he 5:lys t t ~ e "~lcw pl~ilosol,tly calIs all in doubt." 111 tlie .Ef:'lzgy o n I),.incs I - / e ~ ~ r y he says that the "least movi~ig of the center" ~iiakes " t t~e world to stlake."

I t is diflicult to alis\vcr argument like this, a~id'impossil,fe to arlswcr i t wit11 e~idcricc of like nature. There is 110 reason why I>o~ i~ i c might not have written a stanza in which the two ki11.d~ of ctlcstial tr~otion stood lor two sorts of emotion at parting. &\lid i f we becorl~e full of ~stroriomical ideas and see D o n ~ ~ e only ng:~ilist the background of tlie new science, we may bclier-c: that Ilc did. Hilt th t : teyt itself remailis to be deaIt with, the a;ialyz- ;~ble vehicle of a complicated metaphor. And one may ol~scrve: ( I ) that tht: rnovcment of the earth according to the Copcr~iica~l tt~cory is a celestial motion, smooth and regular, and wtlile it might cause religious or pliilo:;ophic fcars, i t could not be associ- :~tcd with ttie crlidity and ear th i~~ess of 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 '(trepi- dation" 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~g what it "did a ~ i d nicant" 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~ id ncc~i 1l0t 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 ib al: action of the ~ n i n d which cuts off roots, melts away contest- or 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~cbla Khan. Ifre next present n c;~sc where preoccupation with evidence of type ( 3 ) has gone so fi l l .

'lot15 ;I\ as to distort n critic's view of 3 poem (yet a case not so oln ' 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~es and 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's Jen~.lii~ig ! i ; ~ s written of this quatrain as follows:

. . . he touches the elnotional pulse of the situ;itio~l by :i skillful allusio~l to 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 poc~n is a valedictio~l forbidding mourni~lg, the poct n,Lt>t cullol.t his love to quietness and calm upon his departure; n~ici for this piirposc the Ggnrc bnscd upon the lnttcr ~ u o t i o ~ i (trepi- dation), long absorbed into the tr-sdit;o~inl nst~.o~iuuiy, fi t - tingly suggests the tension of the momelit urithoi~t n r o u s i ~ ) ~ thc "hnm~cs and fcares" implicit in the figure of the rno\f- ing 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:~inst the words. T o make the geo-cc~ltric and helio-centric antithesis the core of the metnpI~or- is tu dis1.c- gard the English language, to prefer private evidclicc to ~ ) ~ ~ l l l i c ,

,': external to internal.

I f the distinctio~l between ki~lds of evide~lce has inil~licatioris for the historical critic, i t hils t h c ~ n no 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~it that 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 c ~ arc matched by others which arise i l l the world of progressive es- periment.

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 . 1 ~ one where a falsc judgtne~it

c T is likely to involve the interltional fallacy. 'The f r c q i ~ c n c ~ a1ic1 \

depth of literary a l l u s i o ~ ~ i11 the poetry of Eli@ and others. Ii:ls drivcn so many i ~ i pi~rsuit of full mcani~lgs to the boltfu,r Uotrph and the Elizabctha~i drarna that i t tias bcconle a kind of co~nrno~l- place to suppose that we do not know what a poet lncarls u~tlcss we have traced Ilim in his reading-a suppai t ior~ redolent wit11 intentional imp1ications. T h e stand taken by Mr . 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 d is ser1siti1.c to their suddcn shifts in movement, the coritmst Lctwcc11 ttic act1131 Thamcs 3 r d the iclexlizecl visio~l of 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~lizes t l ~ c refrain to be from Spenser.

W f h l S A T T A N D D E A R D S L B Y 483

Elic,tls a l lus io~~s work when we know thcm-;ind to ;I grcat cxtc~i t c\,cil whc~i we d o ~ i o t kilow them, through thcir suggcstivc powcr.

J i t~ t solnctimcs we fi~id ;illusions supported by ~lotcs, and i t is a \.cl-y ~iicc q~tcstion whet he^. the notes fu~tction more as guides to send us ~vtiet-e we may be educatcd, or nlore as indic;~tiotis i l l tllc~nsclves about the ctiaracter of the allusions. "Ecarly cvcry- thing of i~npol-ta~icc . . . that is apposite to au npprcciatio~i of ''I'he 1,V;tste Land'," writes Mr . Matthiesscn of Miss I&'esto~l's book, "has bcen incorporated into the structure of the poem i t - s c j f , 01- illto Eliot's Notes." And with s ~ c h all ndmissio~l i t may [)cb'ili to nppcnr that i t would not much inattur i f Iiliot invented Ilis sour-ccs (as Sir 1Y:llter Scott iilventcd chapter epigraphs from l(c)Id plays" a11d ((ano~~ymous" authors, or as Colcridge wrote ~n;u-~ilial glosscs for "The Ancient Mariner"). Allusions to

I ) ;~~ l t e , LVcbstei., hllarvell, or Baudciaire, doltbtlcss ga i~ i somcttii~lg t,cc;tuse tt~csc writers existed, but i t is doubtful whether the sanie c;ilt bc said for at1 allusion to all obscure Klizal)ctl~nii:

?'tit: soutid of horns and tnotol-s, which stla11 briitg Slvecney tu Mrs. Porter in the sprirlg.

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

When of a sudden, listenitig, you shall ticxt., A noise of Ilol-11s and h t ~ ~ l t ~ n g , w t~ i c l~ shalt t)r-i~lg Actaeon to Uin~ia in the spt-ing, FVt)ct.c all sli:111 see l ~ c r 11akcd skit]. . . .

'I'he iroily is completed by the qttotntioi) itsclf; had Eliot, as is /

qt~itc co~lcenceivnble, con~poscd thcsc litics to f~lrnisti his ow11 I):ickground, there would bet no loss of validity. T h e cot~victioii 1 inny grow as one reads Eliot's next note: "I do not k~lo\v the 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

fcct in soda water-is "ballnd." Alid if one shoi~lcl feel f1.t,111 tlie lines thcn~sclvcs their "ballad" quality, tliel-c ~ ~ ~ o l i l d bc little 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 i l l t l i r : poem, they ouglit to be subject to the same scrutiny ns :illy of t l l c other words in which it is written. Mr . Ivlntthiesse~i bclieves 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 cs - tended connecti~ig links i l l the text itself.'? But i t may be qucs- tioned whether the notes 2nd the need for them arc not ecl~iall! muffling. T h e onlissio~l from poems of the expla~lntory stl.;itii~~> c.11 whicti is built the dramatic or poetic stuff is a dangcrou> responsibility. Mr . 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 t i ic 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~ted i 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 do not pretend to be dramatic, as tiley woultl i f ~ v l - i i t c ~ ~ in verse. 011 the other hand, the notes may look like LIII:IS- sin~ifatcd mncerial lying loose beside tlie ~ O C I I I , necessary for t l tc * meaning of the verbal symbol, but not iategmtcd, so that t l i v i: 3 symbol stands incomplete. I

UTe mean to suggest by the above analysis that whcl-ens 11otcs tend to seem to justify tI~emselves as , external i~~de?tcs to t l ~ s author's intention, yct thcy ought to b'e j i~dged like 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 appnra-

W I ~ I S A ~ ~ T A N D U E A R D S L E Y 18 5

tuj , like thc ~lotcs. Hut while he is worried by some of the 11otcs 211d tliiriks thxt 1;Iiot ";~ppc;crs to be niocking Ililnsclf for writillg tllc note at the snlllc t i l~lc that he wants to convey son~eth i l~g by it,) ' MI-. M; l~ l i i c s se l~ bclieves that thc "device" of cpigrqt'lis $'is: !lot at all o j ~ c ~ i to thc objection of not being s~~fficiently stl-uc- tu~.nl." "The i u i e u l i a ~ l , ~ ~ he says, "is to ellable thc poct to secure .L colldcnsed 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 Man, a member of the traditio~lal pack, fits niy purpose in two ways: because fie is associated in lnv mind wit11 the I i a i ~ ~ e d God 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 ~ncmber of the Tarot pack) 1 associntc, quite ar- bitrar-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 ~ ~ k s of prcf ix i~~g to a second editio~i of AJ/Z IJ7edrrestkoy .olilc lilies from Don Junn:

I dori't pretend that I quite u11de1-sta11d M y ow11 meaning when I would be v e r y fine; Rut the fact is that I have ~ io t l l i~ ig pla1111ed Ul~lcss it 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 i r ~ ~ too much.'"

:\llusivc~icss in poetry is onc of sevcl-a1 critical issues 1)y wllicl~ IVC t ~ :~ve illustrntcd the more abstract issue of i~~tclttiollnlis~n, Lilt i t rnay be for today the most i m p o r t a ~ ~ t illustration. As a poetic p~.;~ctice allusiveriess would appear to be in some rccent p o k l ~ i ~ a11

..,, cxtremc coro]l;ll.y of the: romar~tic ii~tcntionnlist assu~~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~ving i ~ ~ s t n ~ l c c f ro~n !he poetry of I

3 1 i \ 1 ~ , and i l l t h e sl)irit of a man wllo w o ~ i l d ~ c t t k a b e t , the w r i t e s to Eliot a ~ r d asks wt1;lt he Inennt, or i f he had nonrlc

ill mind . W e sII;LII I I O ~ here weigh the prob:ibilitics-wt~etl~er I :E.liot would answcr t h a t - h e meant ~ ~ o t l l i n g a t ai l , 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~nguarded m o n l e l l t n~ ig !~ t fu1.11ish n clcsl. and, w i t h i l l its i ' i l in l i t , irrefutable answer. Our poirlt is t h a t such n n aris!vt.l to

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 'ru- itock;" it would not be a critical inquiry. Critical inquiries, t ln - likc bets, a re nu t settled i l l th i s way. C r i t i c a l i~icluiries arl. c lo t s c t t l c d by c o n s l l i t i n g the oracle.

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 d Xrr ,~l~rrh . .!iqrl,.rrl IJhiio!osY, X L I (May, IQH) , 262: G. l~'i1s011 Knigl~t , Sli~rl:rrpcnr,. LIIIA TIC/- jr,,v Enclisl~ Association Pan~plrlcr No. 66 (;lpril, IS);)), p. l o : Bcrn:trd C. Ilcyl. .\.I:; L)rlrri,~gr in l~rtfrrticr nttA Art Criticirrx (New IIavcn, 1943), pp. 66. I 13, 149.

'D i r l i o~ ln r~ o/ li'orld Li t rnl t~i rc , cd. Joscilh 'r. Slliplcy (Ncw Ydrl:, 11)24), 1>1. ;:G-j,) 'I. E. S ~ i l t p ~ r u , I.1.h~ NU\V Criticis111,'' in Crb;rilr,r n ~ r d :l~r~rrirrr ( N c n Yo1 l . 19 :~ ) . .

rj1. 2-$-25,

I r \s rli t ics nlrd tcaclrcrs cot~stn~>t ly 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~c il: I , . ' . . . p r o of : c i i o i i t i 1 i i n c ~ J I t o C I , . ' 1 !cr111u to llrc that If,:rbcrt intcrl