To Feel The Virtue of the Poet
Too often we think of criticism as simply fault-finding. But properly “criticism” is judgement; the judging of anything by a certain standard of excellence. A literary or an art critic is a qualified judge of books or pictures ; and to point out their excellence is as much part of his work as it is to point out their defects. He tries to estimate the worth of a poem as poetry, of a book as literature, of a painting as art.
According to Walter Pater (himself a great critic), the first stage of the criticism of a book or a picture is “to feel the virtue of the poet or painter” whose work the critic is judging. “Virtue” here means the peculiar quality of excellence which the poet or painter has – that which distinguishes his work as literature or art. The critic has to feel this; for “taste is the basis of criticism”. The virtue of poet or painter cannot be detected by reasoned argument or logic; it will be felt by the cultivated literary or artistic taste of the experienced critic.
The next step is to “disengage” it. The critic has not only to feel or taste the virtue of poet or painter – that is, to be himself aware of it, but also to separate it from other qualities or excellencies, and define it. He must be able to say, “Not here, and not there, but just in this dwells the peculiar genius of this painter or this poet.” Finally, the critic has “to set it forth”; that is, make it clear and explain to others the peculiar virtue he himself has discovered by his cultivated taste, so that they can feel it too. Just as a small illustration, take a criticism of this short poem by Sir Walter Scott :-
“Proud Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early ;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush
Singing so rarely.
‘Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I marry me ?’
‘When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.’
‘Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly ?’
‘The grey-haired sexton
That delves the grave duly;
‘The glow-worm o’er grave and stone
Shall light the steady;
The own from the steeple sing
Welcome, proud lady!'”
On this Mr. Greening Lamborne, writes: “In these few lines alone Scott proves that he shared the gift of the greater poets to suggest infinitely more than the mere words tell. The four short verses are charged with the mystery of brooding Fate like the pronouncement of an oracle, leaving the hearers in wondering awe.” There the “virtue” of the poem is felt, disengaged and set forth.
