Talks on the Study of Literature

Arlo Bates

Description

American-born critic Arlo Bates started his career as a journalist and editor, but later turned his efforts to analyzing and championing English literature, which led to him becoming a professor of English at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. This collection brings together a series of enlightening lectures that Bates presented about literature during his tenure. It offers a fascinating glimpse into the ethos behind literary studies at the dawn of the twentieth century.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776532193
• Langue: English

Extrait

TALKS ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE
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ARLO BATES
 
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Talks on the Study of Literature First published in 1897 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-219-3 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-220-9 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Talks on the Study of Literature I - What Literature Is II - Literary Expression III - The Study of Literature IV - Why We Study Literature V - False Methods VI - Methods of Study VII - The Language of Literature VIII - The Intangible Language IX - The Classics X - The Value of the Classics XI - The Greater Classics XII - Contemporary Literature XIII - New Books and Old XIV - Fiction XV - Fiction and Life XVI - Poetry XVII - The Texture of Poetry XVIII - Poetry and Life Endnotes
Talks on the Study of Literature
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This volume is made up from a course of lectures delivered under theauspices of the Lowell Institute in the autumn of 1895. These have beenrevised and to some extent rewritten, and the division into chaptersmade; but there has been no essential change.
I - What Literature Is
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As all life proceeds from the egg, so all discussion must proceed from adefinition. Indeed, it is generally necessary to follow definition bydefinition, fixing the meaning of the terms used in the originalexplanation, and again explaining the words employed in this exposition.
I once heard a learned but somewhat pedantic man begin to answer thequestion of a child by saying that a lynx is a wild quadruped. He wasallowed to get no further, but was at once asked what a quadruped is. Heresponded that it is a mammal with four feet. This of course provokedthe inquiry what a mammal is; and so on from one question to another,until the original subject was entirely lost sight of, and the lynxdisappeared in a maze of verbal distinctions as completely as it mighthave vanished in the tangles of the forest primeval. I feel that I amnot wholly safe from danger of repeating the experience of thiswell-meaning pedant if I attempt to give a definition of literature.The temptation is strong to content myself with saying: "Of course weall know what literature is." The difficulty which I have had in theendeavor to frame a satisfactory explanation of the term has convincedme, however, that it is necessary to assume that few of us do know, andhas impressed upon me the need of trying to make clear what the wordmeans to me. If my statement seem insufficient for general application,it will at least show the sense which I shall give to "literature" inthese talks.
In its most extended signification literature of course might be takento include whatever is written or printed; but our concern is with thatportion only which is indicated by the name "polite literature," or bythe imported term "belles-lettres,"—both antiquated though respectablephrases. In other words, I wish to confine my examination to thosewritten works which can properly be brought within the scope ofliterature as one of the fine arts.
Undoubtedly we all have a general idea of the limitations which areimplied by these various terms, and we are not without a more or lessvague notion of what is indicated by the word literature in its mostrestricted and highest sense. The important point is whether our idea isclear and well realized. We have no difficulty in saying that one bookbelongs to art and that another does not; but we often find ourselvesperplexed when it comes to telling why. We should all agree that "TheScarlet Letter" is literature and that the latest sensational novel isnot,—but are we sure what makes the difference? We know thatShakespeare wrote poetry and Tupper doggerel, but it by no means followsthat we can always distinguish doggerel from poetry; and while it is notperhaps of consequence whether we are able to inform others why werespect the work of one or another, it is of much importance that we bein a position to justify our tastes to ourselves. It is not hard todiscover whether we enjoy a book, and it is generally possible to tellwhy we like it; but this is not the whole of the matter. It is necessarythat we be able to estimate the justice of our preferences. We mustremember that our liking or disliking is not only a test of thebook,—but is a test of us as well. There is no more accurate gauge ofthe moral character of a man than the nature of the books which hereally cares for. He who would progress by the aid of literature musthave reliable standards by which to judge his literary feelings andopinions; he must be able to say: "My antipathy to such a work isjustified by this or by that principle; my pleasure in that other isfine because for these reasons the book itself is noble."
It is hardly possible to arrive at any clear understanding of what ismeant by literature as an art, without some conception of whatconstitutes art in general. Broadly speaking, art exists in consequenceof the universal human desire for sympathy. Man is forever endeavoringto break down the wall which separates him from his fellows. Whether wecall it egotism or simply humanity, we all know the wish to make othersappreciate our feelings; to show them how we suffer, how we enjoy. Webatter our fellow-men with our opinions sufficiently often, but this isas nothing to the insistence with which we pour out to them ourfeelings. A friend is the most valued of earthly possessions largelybecause he is willing to receive without appearance of impatience theunending story of our mental sensations. We are all of us more or lessconscious of the constant impulse which urges us on to expression; ofthe inner necessity which moves us to continual endeavors to make othersshare our thoughts, our experiences, but most of all our emotions. Itseems to me that if we trace this instinctive desire back far enough, wereach the beginnings of art.
It may seem that the splendidly immeasurable achievements of poetry andpainting, of architecture, of music and sculpture, are far enough fromthis primal impulse; but I believe that in it is to be found their germ.Art began with the first embodiment of human feelings by permanentmeans. Let us suppose, by way of illustration, some prehistoric man,thrilled with awe and terror at sight of a mastodon, and scratching upona bone rude lines in the shape of the animal,—not only to giveinformation, not only to show what the beast was like, but also toconvey to his fellows his feelings when confronted with the monster. Itis as if he said: "See! I cannot put into words what I felt; but look!the creature was like this. Think how you would feel if you came face toface with it. Then you will know how I felt." Something of this sort maythe beginnings of art be conceived to have been.
I do not mean, of course, that the prehistoric man who made such apicture—and such a picture exists—analyzed his motives. He felt athing which he could not say in words; he instinctively turned topictorial representation,—and graphic art was born.
The birth of poetry was probably not entirely dissimilar. Barbaric men,exulting in the wild delight of victory, may seem unlikely sponsors forthe infant muse, and yet it is with them that song began. The savage joyof the conquerors, too great for word, found vent at first in excited,bounding leaps and uncouthly ferocious gestures, by repetition growinginto rhythm; then broke into inarticulate sounds which timed themovements, until these in turn gave place to words, gradually mouldedinto rude verse by the measures of the dance. The need of expressing thefeelings which swell inwardly, the desire of sharing with others, ofputting into tangible form, the emotions that thrill the soul is commonto all human beings; and it is from this that arises the thing which wecall art.
The essence of art, then, is the expression of emotion; and it followsthat any book to be a work of art must embody sincere emotion. Not allworks which spring from genuine feeling succeed in embodying orconveying it. The writer must be sufficiently master of technique to beable to make words impart what he would express. The emotion phrasedmust moreover be general and in some degree typical. Man is interestedand concerned in the emotions of men only in so far as these throw lighton the nature and possibilities of life. Art must therefore deal withwhat is typical in the sense that it touches the possibilities of allhuman nature. If it concerns itself with much that only the few can ormay experience objectively, it has to do with that only which all humanbeings may be conceived of as sharing subjectively. Literature may bebroadly defined as the adequate expression of genuine and typicalemotion. The definition may seem clumsy, and hardly exact enough to beallowed in theoretical æsthetics; but it seems to me sufficientlyaccurate to serve our present purpose. Certainly the essentials ofliterature are the adequate embodiment of sincere and general feeling.
By sincerity here we mean that which is not conventional, which is nottheoretical, not artificial; that which springs from a desire honestlyto impart to others exactly the emotion that has been actually felt. Bythe term "emotion" or "feeling" we mean those inner sensations ofpleasure, excitement, pain, or passion, which are distinguished from themerely intellectual processes of the mind,—from thought, perception,and reason. It is not necessary to trespass just now on the domain ofthe psychologist by an endeavor to establish scientific distinctions.We are all able to app