Matthew Arnold The Function Of Criticism / Overview /

matthew arnold the function of criticism / overview / (or preperation or imitation) arnold is a neo-platonist, i.e. he approaches literat

Matthew Arnold
The Function of Criticism / Overview / (or Preperation or Imitation)
Arnold is a Neo-Platonist, i.e. he approaches literature in a platonic
fashion. He believes in an ideal (the creative effort) and a method
through (critical activity) which we can approach this. Critical
activity, then, prepares the way for creative activity. As such,
critical activity is an inferior to the creative. He also believes, as
befits a Platonist, that his ideal should prevail over any inferior
ideas/ideals, i.e. that there is a “best” culture that should
(ideally) drive out the worst.

Arnold (see below) proposes that the critical activity creates an
atmosphere that makes it possible for masterpieces to exist. This
atmosphere consists of “the best ideas.” It is the critic’s job to
bring these ideas forward.
his is one thing to be kept in mind.
92 Another is, that the exercise of the creative power in the
93 production of great works of literature or art, however
94 high this exercise of it may rank, is not at all epochs
95 and under all conditions possible; and that therefore
96 labour may be vainly spent in attempting it, which might
97 with more fruit be used in preparing for it, in rendering
98 it possible. This creative power works with elements,
99 with materials; what if it has not those materials, those
100 elements, ready for its use? In that case it must surely
101 wait till they are ready. Now in literature,--I will limit
102 myself to literature, for it is about literature that the
103 question arises,--the elements with which the creative
104 power works are ideas; the best ideas, on every matter
105 which literature touches, current at the time; at any rate
106 we may lay it down as certain that in modern literature
107 no manifestation of the creative power not working with
108 these can be very important or fruitful. And I say
109 current at the time, not merely accessible at the time;
110 for creative literary genius does not principally show
111 itself in discovering new ideas; that is rather the business
112 of the philosopher; the grand work of literary genius is
113 a work of synthesis and exposition, not of analysis and
114 discovery; its gift lies in the faculty of being happily
115 inspired by a certain intellectual and spiritual atmosphere,
116 by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself in them;
117 of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in
118 the most effective and attractive combinations, making
119 beautiful works with them, in short. But it must have
120 the atmosphere, it must find itself amidst the order of
121 ideas, in order to work freely; and these it is not so
122 easy to command. This is why great creative epochs
123 in literature are so rare; this is why there is so much
124 that is unsatisfactory in the productions of many men of
125 real genius; because for the creation of a master-work
126 of literature two powers must concur, the power of the
127 man and the power of the moment, and the man is not
128 enough without the moment; the creative power has, for
129 its happy exercise, appointed elements, and those ele-
130 ments are not in its own control.
Arnold Continues
s 31 Nay, they [the creative ideas] are more within the control of the
critical
132 power. It is the business of the critical power, as I said
133 in the words already quoted, " in all branches of know-
134 ledge, theology, philosophy, history, art, science, to see
135 the object as in itself it really is." Thus it tends, at last,
136 to make an intellectual situation of which the creative
137 power can profitably avail itself. It [Criticism] tends to
establish
138 an order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by
139 comparison with that which it displaces; [tends] to make the
140 best ideas prevail. Presently these new ideas reach
141 society, the touch of truth is the touch of life, and there
142 is a stir and growth everywhere; out of this stir and
143 growth come the creative epochs of literature

Therefore, critics and criticism create the conditions for great art.
They do this by identifying the “best ideas” and by making sure that
those ideas “prevail” against inferior ideas. When the best ideas
prevail, then a poet / painter / novelist / filmmaker will be affected
by these ideas and create great art. Arnold contends that it is not
enough to be an artistic genius. You have to live in a moment or epoch
of genius. His examples are the Ancient Greece and the England of
Shakespeare.
…but in the Greece of Pindar and
194 Sophocles, in the England of Shakspeare, the poet lived
195 in a current of ideas in the highest degree animating and
196 nourishing to the creative power; society was, in the
197 fullest measure, permeated by fresh thought, intelligent
198 and alive; and this state of things is the true basis for
199 the creative power's exercise, in this it finds its data, its
200 materials, truly ready for its hand; all the books and
201 reading in the world are only valuable as they are helps
202 to this.
Critics have a large and difficult responsibility in creating this
intellectual atmosphere.
1.
First they have to identify what is best (an essential Platonic
activity)
2.
They have to make sure the best prevails (also essential Platonic
activity)
3.
They do this by attacking what is not the best (ditto)
4.
This is guaranteed not to make them popular (see Socrates) as the
best is not always popular and may, in fact, be decidedly
unpopular
5.
As a result, critics may not be around to see their efforts
succeed either because it will take a long time for the unpopular
best ideas to become assimilated into culture (the theory of
evolution is still being fought in the courts 147 years after it
was announced) OR because the ruling culture will get rid of the
critic by imprisoning her, exiling her, or killing her (See
Socrates—and numerous others)
This raises questions:
1.
What / who defines the “best” in a culture?
2.
How does one go about identifying it? What is the method?
3.
Who knows this method? Where is it taught?
4.
And what qualifies that someone for being an identifier of the
best?
5.
How does one make sure that the best ideas prevail?
6.
What / who gets left out? What happens to them / it?
7.
Why does this matter so much? Is culture that big a deal? Isn’t it
more important to have the right to vote, good health care, and as
much money as possible?
8.
What is the relation of an artist to the culture to which they
belong?
9.
What does it mean to belong to a culture, anyway?
10.
Oh—and what is a culture?
11.
Do artists have any responsibilities to their cultures?
Let’s look at Arnold’s argument.
The English Romantics / Not Knowing Enough / And Reading--And Not
Reading
Let’s look at Arnold’s idea about reading—because a lot of what this
essay is doing has to do with reading: what one should and should not
read and why that matters.
Arnold begins the Function of Criticism (which is an essay) by
referring to an earlier essay he had written On Translating Homer.
This essay had been read by a number of people who took exception to
his remarks in it that English intellectuals don’t want to “see the
object as it really is.” Arnold argued that the intellectuals of
Germany, France, etc. do see (or try to see) the “object”—whatever it
may be—“as it is,” with the result progress of a kind (criticism) is
implied in Germany and France as regards, “theology, philosophy,
history, art, science,” that is not happening in England.
To restate: Arnold begins The Function of Criticism as a response to
the reading that other people had given an earlier essay, On
Translating Homer. Arnold writes. People read. They respond—in
writing. Arnold reads what they write. He writes more. We read that.
Now we, respond. Arnold, alas, cannot write back to us. My point in
pointing out the obvious is that Arnold believes that reading is an
important part of criticism. If culture is a kind of “atmosphere,” a
“current of ideas,” “a national conversation,” then reading (or going
to the movies, to plays, to concerts, to museums, to galleries, to
recitals) and responding to reading (plays, movies, recitals, gallery
shows) is crucial to creating this current, atmosphere, conversation.
Reading and response is the conversation, is the current, is the
atmosphere.
Therefore, what you read matters as does the fact of responding.
Platonically, as it were, one might say that the Function of Criticism
functions as a kind of model, an ideal, an exemplar, of how to create
this atmosphere. Arnold is giving an example in the opening paragraph
(and, really, in the writing of the essay itself, which is one long
response) of the kind of cultural back and forth that he argues for in
The Function of Criticism.
Arnold responds to his readers by first noting that his readers object
to the above remark by saying that the creative effort is greater than
that of critical. In short, that is better to do something than to
criticize something or to criticize someone else for what they did.
Arnold then produces the example of the Romantic poet, Wordsworth. He
quotes Wordsworth:
The writers in these publications" (the Reviews),
28 "while they prosecute their inglorious employment, can-
29 not be supposed to be in a state of mind very favour-
30 able for being affected by the finer influences of a thing
31 so pure as genuine poetry."
32 And a trustworthy reporter of his conversation quotes
33 a more elaborate judgment to the same effect:--
34 "Wordsworth holds the critical power very low, in-
35 finitely lower than the inventive and he said to-day
36 that if the quantity of time consumed in writing critiques
37 on the works of others were given to original com-
38 position, of whatever kind it might be, it would be
39 much better employed; it would make a man find out
40 sooner his own level, and it would do infinitely less
41 mischief. A false or malicious criticism may do much
42 injury to the minds of others; a stupid invention, either
43 in prose or verse, is quite harmless
Arnold then goes onto say that Wordsworth, asking a question:
is it certain that Wordsworth himself was better
63 employed in making his Ecclesiastical Sonnets, than
64 when he made his celebrated Preface, so full of criticism,
65 and criticism of the works of others? Wordsworth was
66 himself a great critic, and it is to be sincerely regretted
67 that he has not left us more criticism; Goethe was one
68 of the greatest of critics, and we may sincerely congratu-
69 late ourselves that he has left us so much criticism.
That is to say: Wordsworth’s poetry sometimes suffered from a lack of
critical spirit.
Arnold then admits that yes, that creative activity is a greater
activity than criticism. But, Arnold then goes on to say
In other words, the English poetry of the
172 first quarter of this century, with plenty of energy, plenty
173 of creative force, did not know enough. This makes
174 Byron so empty of matter, Shelley so incoherent, Words-
175 worth even, profound as he is, yet so wanting in com-
176 pleteness and variety. Wordsworth cared little for books,
177 and disparaged Goethe. I admire Wordsworth, as he is,
178 so much that I cannot wish him different; and it is vain,
179 no doubt, to imagine such a man different from what he
180 is, to suppose that he could have been different; but
181 surely the one thing wanting to make Wordsworth an
182 even greater poet than he is,--his thought richer, and his
183 influence of wider application,--was that he should have
184 read more books, among them, no doubt, those of that
185 Goethe whom he disparaged without reading him.
Then, Arnold backpedals a bit. After all:
But to speak of books and reading may easily lead to
187 a misunderstanding here. It was not really books and
188 reading that lacked to our poetry, at this epoch; Shelley
189 had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading.
190 Pindar and Sophocles,--as we all say so glibly, and often
191 with so little discernment of the real import of what we
192 are saying,--had not many books; Shakspeare was no
193 deep reader. True; but in the Greece of Pindar and
194 Sophocles, in the England of Shakspeare, the poet lived
195 in a current of ideas in the highest degree animating and
196 nourishing to the creative power; society was, in the
197 fullest measure, permeated by fresh thought, intelligent
198 and alive; and this state of things is the true basis for
199 the creative power's exercise, in this it finds its data, its
200 materials, truly ready for its hand; all the books and
201 reading in the world are only valuable as they are helps
202 to this.
In other words, individual reading can only take someone so far. The
culture the artist lives in must be “permeated by fresh thought.” But,
how is it that a culture becomes permeated by fresh thought?
Shakespeare did not have to read because others did, i.e. others
traveled, others translated, people talked, debated, things changed—or
didn’t—and Shakespeare was in the middle of all that reading,
traveling, talking, debating, arguing, reading a bit himself (he
obviously read Plutarch’s Lives) and writing a lot and being a hugely
talented genius. Many people read, Arnold would argue, in order that
Shakespeare might write.
Arnold goes on to argue that even if a culture such as Shakespeare’s
does not exist for an individual (we can’t all live in Elizabethan
England)
Even when this does not actually exist, books
203 and reading may enable a man to construct a kind of
204 semblance of it in his own mind, a world of knowledge
205 and intelligence in which he may live and work; this is
206 by no means an equivalent, to the artist, for the nationally
207 diffused life and thought of the epochs of Sophocles or
208 Shakspeare, but, besides that it [reading and books] may be a
means of
209 preparation for such epochs, it does really constitute, if
210 many share in it, a quickening and sustaining atmosphere
211 of great value. Such an atmosphere the many-sided
212 learning and the long and widely-combined critical effort
213 of Germany formed for Goethe, when he lived and
214 worked. There was no national glow of life and thought
215 there, as in the Athens of Pericles, or the England of
216 Elizabeth. That was the poet's weakness. But there
217 was a sort of equivalent for it in the complete culture and
218 unfettered thinking of a large body of Germans. That
219 was his strength. In the England of the first quarter of
220 this century, there was neither a national glow of life and
221 thought, such as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet
222 a culture and a force of learning and criticism, such as
223 were to be found in Germany. Therefore the creative
224 power of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense,
225 materials and a basis; a thorough interpretation of the
226 world was necessarily denied to it.
So…reading may construct a semblance (a kind of imitation) of, if you
will, the conditions of the Renaissance, a semblance (imitation) of a
“world of knowledge and intelligence,” in a person’s “own mind,” where
he can “live and work.”
So reading creates an imitation Renaissance where a person can lead a
double life in their mind (no matter what sort of life they lead in
the real world).
But, Arnold reminds us, reading is no substitute/equivalent/double to
the artist of the “real” Renaissance world
Yet, reading is a preparation for this real world (i.e. a dim copy of
the Renaissance to come) and if enough people read, reading may create
an “atmosphere” (a better copy / prophecy of the Renaissance-to-come),
this atmosphere may become “a sort of equivalent for” the
Renaissance-to-come, and, hey, you have Goethe, who functions a bit
like a Shakespeare analog for Germany.
English Romantic poets did not have this atmosphere of reading, thus
their poetry was weak in comparison to Goethe.
So you have this chain of metaphors: Reading =semblance=private world
of knowledge=preparation=public atmosphere=equivalent
In short, if a certain kind of reading (and response to reading)
reproduces itself—is viral as would say today—fast enough, deep enough
in a culture—this mass reproduction becomes an atmosphere or current
of ideas. Then, artists responding to the current, start making
masterpieces (maybe).
But it has to be the right sort of (the best) reading/response.
So Arnold imagines a process something like the image below.

One of a criticism’s jobs, then, is to encourage the right kind of
reading, the right kind of attention to the right sort of movie,
dance, theater, music, opera, you-name-it.
What’s Wrong with the French Revolution?
You probably noticed that Arnold spent a great deal of time talking
about the French Revolution. Why? The era of the French Revolution
(and the American Revolution before it) would seem to be the sort of
period in which a “current of ideas” or “atmosphere” that Arnold
means. Both revolutions were if nothing else, revolutions about
ideas—namely ideas about who rules whom, why, and how, and for how
long. Both revolutions created an immense amount of intellectual work.
On our side: Common Sense, The Declaration of Independence, The
Constitution of the United States, The Federalist Papers, the
Anti-Federalist Papers, as well as hundreds (thousands?) of pamphlets,
speeches, newspaper editorials, etc. The same was true of France. Over
the course of the late 17th and 18th century, Montesquieu, Voltaire,
Diderot, and many others wrote essays, books, articles, etc. that
challenged the idea of the rule of the nobility. 1 The French
Revolution itself produced a mass of justifications for its actions in
the form of pamphlets, essays, etc. So lots of ideas, lots of writing,
lots of reading, and some pretty dramatic “response” to the reading
(the Revolution). That’s why Arnold says it’s strange no masterpieces
came out of the French Revolution….
At first sight it seems strange that out of the immense
228 stir of the French Revolution and its age should not
229 have come a crop of works of genius equal to that which
230 came out of the stir of the great productive time of
231 Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its
232 powerful episode the Reformation. But the truth is that
233 the stir of the French Revolution took a character which
234 essentially distinguished it from such movements as these.
235 These were, in the main, disinterestedly intellectual and
236 spiritual movements; movements in which the human
237 spirit looked for its satisfaction in itself and in the in-
238 creased play of its own activity: the French Revolution
239 took a political, practical character.
According to Arnold the French Revolution made an error: it tried to
put theory into practice via politics, i.e. cutting off the king’s
head (and a great many other heads besides). For their part
Shakespeare and Co were content to absorb the spirit of the age and
keep it on the stage and out of the streets. As Sister Thomas Hoctor
S.S.J. points out in her introduction to Arnold’s Essays in Criticism,
“disinterestedness” is one of the key elements of Arnold’s theory of
criticism.
Recall that Arnold says that it is the duty of criticism to see “the
object as it really is.” If you are to do that, to see something as
“really is,” (if that is possible—but let’s assume for the moment that
it is possible), then you need to be careful not to see an object (or
a person) for what they are to you. For example: If one needs a ride
somewhere, one may tend to see people not as complex individuals
seeking happiness in their own ways for their own ends and doing so in
a limited world in a limited time using their limited resources.
Rather one (you, me) tends to reduce people (for the moment) to
sources for a ride home and may tend to manipulate people to that end.
“If you give me a ride to the party, say, I will be your friend at the
party and introduce you to everyone. If not, not.” Most people
wouldn’t be quite that blunt, but such promises can be tacitly made.
Arnold would argue that the same thing is true of ideas, even the
so-called “best ideas.” Take the idea of democracy, i.e. rule by the
will of the majority. It’s a good idea, but if put into practice, then
it gets messy. People start forming political parties. Parties have
agendas. Agendas are not about disinterest. They are entirely about
interest. Next thing you know, the Bastille is exploding or workers
are demanding their rights. It’s better to write poems, plays, make
movies, etc. read the poems, watch the movies, and argue about
democracy. Try to see what democracy is in itself. Then, one day, if
enough people are convinced, if the goodness of democracy becomes
self-evident, democracy happens. Arnold essentially, says, that
democracy would have happened eventually because it appeals to “an
order of ideas which are universal, certain, permanent,” but the
French revolutionaries forced democracy before France was ready for it
and, so, the guillotine.
250 The French Revolution, however,--that object of so
251 much blind love and so much blind hatred,--found
252 undoubtedly its motive-power in the intelligence of men
253 and not in their practical sense;--this is what distinguishes
254 it from the English Revolution of Charles the First's time;
255 this is what makes it a more spiritual event than our Re-
256 volution, an event of much more powerful and world-wide
257 interest, though practically less successful;--it appeals to
258 an order of ideas which are universal, certain, permanent.
259 1789 asked of a thing, Is it rational?
But the mania for giving an immediate political and
301 practical application to all these fine ideas of the reason
302 was fatal. Here an Englishman is in his element: on
303 this theme we can all go on for hours. And all we are in
304 the habit of saying on it has undoubtedly a great deal
305 of truth. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for
306 themselves, cannot be too much lived with; but to
307 transport them abruptly into the world of politics and
308 practice, violently to revolutionise this world to their
309 bidding,--that is quite another thing. There is the world
310 of ideas and there is the world of practice;
339 This was the grand error of the French Revolution, and
340 its movement of ideas, by quitting the intellectual sphere
341 and rushing furiously into the political sphere, ran, in-
342 deed, a prodigious and memorable course, but produced
343 no such intellectual fruit as the movement of ideas of
344 the Renaissance, and created, in opposition to itself, what
345 I may call an epoch of concentration.
Arnold is saying that the French Revolution instead of causing an era
of expansion in the intellectual and artistic worlds (as the
Renaissance supposedly did), it created the opposite, “concentration.”
What we would call today, “reaction.” Fear of the French Revolution
caused England to go into intellectual defensive mode, looking /
thinking / reading inward (in a movement that today we would call
“nationalism”) instead of looking outward for the best in
ideas—wherever they may be found. Art and the criticism of art, exists
in a separate cultural sphere, an idealized space, a Platonic space,
where the right people can come into contact with the right ideas at
the right time.
You have to take Arnold’s word for the notion that the French
Revolution bore no intellectual fruit. French art (Impressionism, Post
Impressionism) and French literature (Baudlier, Hugo, Balzac, Rimbaud,
Mallarme, Nerval, the list goes on and on) of the 19th century are
well regarded today. Indeed, Paris was considered the intellectual, if
not financial, capital of Europe till after World War II (when New
York City took the prize).
What’s wrong with Bishop Colenso?
You will recall that Arnold comes down pretty hard on Bishop Colenso,
the Bishop of Natal, a province of the British Empire in what is now
South Africa. Bishop Colenso was translating the Bible into Zulu and
in the process came to the conclusion that the first five books of the
Bible, the Pentateuch, were not literally true. He came to this
conclusion because of internal logical problems in the narrative. He
published his conclusions. This caused a tremendous uproar because
well, the Bishop of Natal, (one of the guardians of the British Empire
if you want to think of him in a Platonic sense), was supposed to
believe (had taken an oath affirming his belief) and to encourage
others to believe in the literal truth of the Bible.
Arnold has no trouble with the Bible not being literally true. This is
old news. That is one of his criticisms of Colenso. The German and
French critics of the Bible long ago showed that anyone who knew
anything about the Bible knew it couldn’t be literally true and they
did so in a smarter way. In other words, Colenso may have spoke the
truth, but he spoke it badly.
What is this? here
799 a liberal attacking a liberal. Do not you belong to
800 the movement? are not you a friend of truth? Is not
801 Bishop Colenso in pursuit of truth? then speak with
802 proper respect of his book. |Dr.| Stanley is another friend
803 of truth, and you speak with proper respect of his book;
804 why make these invidious differences? both books are
805 excellent, admirable, liberal; Bishop Colenso's perhaps
806 the most so, because it is the boldest, and will have the
807 best practical consequences for the liberal cause. Do
808 you want to encourage to the attack of a brother liberal
809 his, and your, and our implacable enemies, the Church
810 and State Review or the Record,--the High Church
811 rhinoceros and the Evangelical hyæna? Be silent,
812 therefore; or rather speak, speak as loud as ever you can,
813 and go into ecstasies over the eighty and odd pigeons."
814 But criticism cannot follow this coarse and indiscriminate
815 method. It is unfortunately possible for a man in pur-
816 suit of truth to write a book which reposes upon a false
817 conception. Even the practical consequences of a book
818 are to genuine criticism no recommendation of it, if the
819 book is, in the highest sense, blundering.
If you read Arnold’s essay, The Bishop and the Philosopher, you find
out that Arnold’s larger problem with Colenso was perhaps that Colenso
told the truth about the Bible too soon. The people, it seems, are not
ready for the truth about the Bible. (see handouts). If they are not
given the truth in the right way by the right sorts, it may lead to a
disturbance like the French Revolution.
But Arnold’s idea that critics and artists should be disinterested as
regards politics and practical affairs—that art occupies, or ought to,
a separate cultural sphere—and that the goal of criticism is, or ought
to be, the cultivation of (for lack of a better term) a superior
culture, is a hugely powerful idea and one that lives on. People,
especially artists, are supposed to take inspiration from criticism.
Criticism must be left alone to do its work. It simply cannot care
about the practical outcomes of its ideas. It’s only criterion is: is
the best idea?
Criticism must maintain its
931 independence of the practical spirit and its aims. Even
932 with well-meant efforts of the practical spirit it must
933 express dissatisfaction, if in the sphere of the ideal they
934 seem impoverishing and limiting. It must not hurry on
935 to the goal because of its practical importance. It must
936 be patient, and know how to wait; and flexible, and
937 know how to attach itself to things and how to withdraw
938 from them. It must be apt to study and praise elements
939 that for the fulness of spiritual perfection are wanted,
940 even though they belong to a power which in the prac-
941 tical sphere may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern
942 the spiritual shortcomings or illusions of powers that in
943 the practical sphere may be beneficent. And this with-
944 out any notion of favouring or injuring, in the practical
945 sphere, one power or the other; without any notion of
946 playing off, in this sphere, one power against the other.
1011 If I have insisted so much on the course which
1012 criticism must take where politics and religion are con-
1013 cemed, it is because, where these burning matters are
1014 in question, it is most likely to go astray. In general,
1015 its course is determined for it by the idea which is the
1016 law of its being; the idea of a disinterested endeavour
1017 to learn and propagate the best that is known and
1018 thought in the world, and thus to establish a current
1019 of fresh and true ideas
1 Ironically, the French king (or his ministers) was decisive in our
winning the American Revolution.