No More Learning

All that we
know of Pope's method of study, habit of thought, and practice of
composition goes to support this opinion. He read widely but
desultorily; thought swiftly and brilliantly, but illogically and
inconsistently; and composed in minute sections, on the backs of letters
and scraps of waste paper, fragments which he afterward united, rather
than blended, to make a complete poem, a mosaic, rather than a picture.

Yet the 'Essay' is by no means the "collection of independent maxims
tied together by the printer, but having no natural order," which De
Quincey pronounced it to be. It falls naturally into three parts. The
first deals with the rules derived by classic critics from the practice
of great poets, and ever since of binding force both in the composition
and in the criticism of poetry. The second analyzes with admirable
sagacity the causes of faulty criticism as pride, imperfect learning,
prejudice, and so on. The third part discusses the qualities which a
true critic should possess, good taste, learning, modesty, frankness,
and tact, and concludes with a brief sketch of the history of criticism
from Aristotle to Walsh. This is the general outline of the poem,
sufficient, I think, to show that it is not a mere bundle of poetic
formulae. But within these broad limits the thought of the poem wanders
freely, and is quite rambling, inconsistent, and illogical enough to
show that Pope is not formulating an exact and definitely determined
system of thought.

Such indeed was, I fancy, hardly his purpose. It was rather to give
clear, vivid, and convincing expression to certain ideas which were at
that time generally accepted as orthodox in the realm of literary
criticism. No better expression of these ideas can be found anywhere
than in the 'Essay' itself, but a brief statement in simple prose of
some of the most important may serve as a guide to the young student of
the essay.

In the first place, the ultimate source alike of poetry and criticism is
a certain intuitive faculty, common to all men, though more highly
developed in some than others, called Reason, or, sometimes, Good Sense.
The first rule for the budding poet or critic is "Follow Nature. " This,
by the way, sounds rather modern, and might be accepted by any romantic
poet.
But by "Nature" was meant not at all the natural impulses of the
individual, but those rules founded upon the natural and common reason
of mankind which the ancient critics had extracted and codified from the
practice of the ancient poets. Pope says explicitly "to follow nature is
to follow them;" and he praises Virgil for turning aside from his own
original conceptions to imitate Homer, for:

Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.

Certain exceptions to these rules were, indeed, allowable,--severer
critics than Pope, by the way, absolutely denied this,--but only to the
ancient poets. The moderns must not dare to make use of them, or at the
very best moderns must only venture upon such exceptions to the rules as
classic precedents would justify. Inasmuch as all these rules were
discovered and illustrated in ancient times, it followed logically that
the great breach with antiquity, which is called the Middle Ages, was a
period of hopeless and unredeemed barbarism, incapable of bringing forth
any good thing. The light of literature began to dawn again with the
revival of learning at the Renaissance, but the great poets of the
Renaissance, Spenser and Shakespeare, for example, were "irregular,"
that is, they trusted too much to their individual powers and did not
accept with sufficient humility the orthodox rules of poetry. This
dogma, by the way, is hardly touched upon in the 'Essay', but is
elaborated with great emphasis in Pope's later utterance on the
principles of literature, the well-known 'Epistle to Augustus'. Finally
with the establishment of the reign of Reason in France under Louis XIV,
and in England a little later, the full day had come, and literary sins
of omission and commission that might be winked at in such an untutored
genius as Shakespeare were now unpardonable. This last dogma explains
the fact that in the brief sketch of the history of criticism which
concludes the 'Essay', Pope does not condescend to name an English poet
or critic prior to the reign of Charles II.

It would be beside the purpose to discuss these ideas to-day or to
attempt an elaborate refutation of their claims to acceptance. Time has
done its work upon them, and the literary creed of the wits of Queen
Anne's day is as antiquated as their periwigs and knee-breeches. Except
for purposes of historical investigation it is quite absurd to take the
'Essay on Criticism' seriously.

And yet it has even for us of to-day a real value. Our age absolutely
lacks a standard of literary criticism; and of all standards the one
least likely to be accepted is that of Pope and his fellow-believers.
Individual taste reigns supreme in this democratic age, and one man's
judgment is as good as, perhaps a little better than, another's. But
even this democratic and individual age may profit by turning back for a
time to consider some of the general truths, as valid to-day as ever, to
which Pope gave such inimitable expression, or to study the outlines of
that noble picture of the true critic which St.