CRITI C ISM IN A NT I QUITY
TICISM IN ANTIQUITY D. A. Russell
UNIVE RSI T Y OF CA LIFOR N IA PRESS BERKELEY AND LOS ANGE L ES
University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles
© 19B.
by D. A. R ussdl
Printed in G reat Britain
Ubrary of CoagrH_ Ru~lI ,
Catalogi.D~
in Public:atioa Data
D. A. (Donald Andrew) Criticism in amiquity Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Classical literature- H istory and criticism. 2. Criticism. I . Title. PA30 13· R82 801 ' .95'0938 IS BN 0-5 2(}-04466-5
Contents Preface [
11
Prologue Narrative: from the Beginnings. to
••
'ill
,
Arjstotle
ill ill ;L
:Ill
Narrative: the Hellenistic Age from ArislOtle to H orace Narrative; the Roman Empire The Poet and his I nspiralion The Poet as Teacher
V II
Mimesis
V II I
R hetoric
IX Theories of Style X Classification of Literature Xl Literary History X II
Epilogue Appendix Bibliography In dex
31 5"
(ig
& 99 "A ~
~ '.'i'l «ig '2l
""9 "'1
Preface I [lAVE tried to <.:oml>inc a personal im p ression orlhe complex ph enom e no n ofGn::co-Roman ' literary criticism' wilh a measure of detailed information su fficient to guide the reader towards further illquiry. I have had in mind the need, of lit erary Sludcnts who>.., Gree k an d Latin il perhaps vestigial, though [ am well awarc that the y are fa\:cd wilh special difficulti!:" in approa(:hing a ~ubj<:<;! which is mainly abo ut wo rd s. Wh erever poossihle, I have refe rred to the collection of translations puh1islu~ by Dr M. Wintcrhollom and rn yselfi n 1972 (A"cirnll.iIUQ,)' Crilicism , Oxford Universit y Press) ; an appendi x 10 the present volume offers a supplem ent to this, in wh ich I have lri~-d to gath n somt' \('X IS which were nor in the earli er wllcnion hu t which I haH felt the need to citc in thc prt"{'nt discussio n. T his kind of book ncccs)a ril), rC$1-' On tcaching ; and l owe a great dea l to the undergraduates who ha ve from time to time pa tientl), li sten ed and produ ced commcnts and ideas. [ sho uld lik e also to reco rd a special d e bt to Dr D. C. Jnn e!. who ide nt;· lied and helped me to correct man)' weak nesses and obscurities. D AR.
C " A PTER ONE
Prologue
THE surviving literary remains of classical antiquity in cl ude a g reat deal or comment on literature iL<;clf T heory, scholarl y interpn:tation and evaluative judgment are all to be found , and in some ahundance. T here is cvCn a liule literary hiSlOry. The class ical scholar approacbes this material from hi s study of th e ancient poets and prose-w riters them selves; the modern literary critic turns 10 the ancients as precurso rs, in some sense, of hi s own arl. Bolh have occasion 10 Ix: Ix:wildered, disconcerted, pe rhaps disappoint ed. The sc holars of eourse rclOgnisc in the liler"ry Ih ~"()ries of PlatonislS, Peri p"INks or Stoics minor works of the grea t ph ilosophical sebools, shaped by their general metaphysical, logi c.. 1 or moral positions. It is the recorded critical judg ments Ihat lire puzzling. \\'e find Ihem often inad ~-qu;n" and un s;nisfactory, if we com pa re them with our own responses to th e same l"'x1.~. But al Ihe sa me lime we ca nnot help reasoning Ihat the Greeks and Ro mans must afle r all know beSt, since Ihe language and the culture wue their own. As for the modern critic, he to<) is likely 10 he divided in mind. On the one hand , he knows thallhere would h.. ve been nothing li ke the a rl he professes without the foundations l.. id by ArislOde. 'Longinus·. Horare and Ill<' rcs," On Ihe oth .... r. he senSe$ that it is .. 11 "ery differe nt from what he is used to. There l!Cems, for exampl e, to be little or no attempt to delimit Ihe cri tic's field , 10 [",nee it off aga inst his three n",ighhoul1l: th e scholar, the moral is t and th" teacher of rhetoric. I nde<:d, these three between them , it may reasonably appear, occ upy the whole are ...
,
Criticism ill Antiquity
Not Ihal il is difficult to assign historical reasons for this phenomenon. Greek literature became 'classical' al an early period, be· c ause the earli es t poetry to be r ecorded, the epic, ..,t" standard never surpassed, and was never, in practice, rejected as the core of educatio n. 1I.hny words in H om", were unimdligible, even to fifth-century speakers; yel everyone ",ad him , many knew him by hear!. Scholarly interpretation was thusa ne<:essily from quite early limes. Again , philosophers and educators habitually attac ked or defended literature on moral or social grounds, or sought \0 tum i( to good account in their ad"ocacy of virtue. This again is connected wilh the prestige of the epic. And, finaliy, by the end of th e fifth century, the prac tical teaching of rhetoric, the 'art of per.!uasio n', had also become a dominant feature of education. Th is led to a fae! which strikes e\"(:ryono: who studies this material, nameiy, that a very great deal of the detailed interpretation and criticism we possess has a clearly rhetorical purpose. It aims at drawing out isolable and imitable features which may be of service to the potential orator. "Let us consider, says 'Longinus", typically, "whether there is anything in OUT ohservations . .. useful to puhlic men."
, Now the ethical bias of much of our material is something to whic h the modern reader may faidy easily be<:ume reeoneilL-d. There are, after all, many contemporary versions or(he moral_ ising sort of criticism, in which literary excellence is judged by ilS contribu tion to the 'good life"" however that may be concei,·ed. But he may find the d ominant rhetorical element harder to bear. Yet this is of crucial importance. One essential rea t ure of it is that the address is always to potential practitioners, not me rely !O reader.! Of connoisseurs. This is so not on ly in
a"',,,,;".
, 0. sMb!ift/il1"~ ' 8 m b)' ""Ii/it.is 'public ",~n·. the am llor .. ~ks 10 define hi. audience not a. ]>ublic a. o]>p"'ed 10 pri"ale perwn•. hut .. ora ' o,", ,,·ho u"" .hei r cloquen« ror prac,ical purl""'<" .... opposed 10 ·>o~h; ... · ,..ho m~ .. ly t~ach and uhibit their . kil".
3
Prologue
overtly rhetorical works like 0" $~blimity, hut in tht: classical worh On poe,ry a lso. Horace's ATs ptKlico assumes- whether as fact or as conveniem fiction - that the two young Piso brothe rs are about to sit down and writ e plays. Aristotle in th e PlJtlics works o ut th e consequences of his d efinition of traged y in the form of statemen ts of how one ought 10 manage plot, charac ter and language. \\'ould-J.e orato.-s w,"re naturally an import a nt t:ducatio nal market both in the Greek cities and in Rom e, since political and private sueeelo.\ and even safely could well depend on skill in public speaking. Wou ld-be poeLI on th c o ther hand arc relativel y few in a ny age , certainl y fewer than those whoapprecia le Ihe art without wishing 10 praclise it . It is therefore natural to suppose that the prC'lc riptive emphasis whi ch we find in works on pox:try is due 10 the example of rhe torical tea ching. T here are in fact good reasons why rheto ric sho uld have seemed a relevant model. For one thing , poel ry was believed to h;we preceded prose as a "ehide of instruc tion a nd re .-s nasio n," and could dillS be seen 10 have fulfilled man y of the sa me funclio ns. Ag ain , the rhetorical analysis of the elemenls of discourse into invention, arrangement and verbal choke was clearly ap, propriatc also to poetry. In the fifth CCntury, whe n lea c he~ of rh elOri~' began to d evelo p th eir craft, the y natu rally mad e use of the epic poetry which wa s paft of their pupils' Iraditio nal education. And so 'poetics', as formulated by ;\rlstOlle'$ succClsors- though not , it is importa nt w reme mber, by Aristotl e himself- turned into a spec ialised branch of rhe tori c. Poetry \,'as th ought of as an a n aimed at producing certain elkc," On the audi ence. T rue, th ese were nOI the sam e effects as the o rator's; they were pleasure a tid wonder, tlOt convictio n or an emotional stimulus 10 aClion. J Both arll wcre clcarl y ·audie",;c-orieIlH;d'. T Iu;ophrasIUS. in a famou" formula, gro oped Ihem togedwr for just thi s reason . ' He ",cant (0 ' Cf. S(raoo ,-~ .6 (ALC 3<»); PI " . M ••. ~ o6c-f: j;iodor' t :f)'ImJI0I ;M '- 38 (from Varro) ; L.u~i a n 1» ,.,.",i~.dtJ ~ist., jd 46 ; a "d , i" Norden A.,itt Kustp •• ", 32 If. > I t """-I of CO Ul""" rccogni.scd .h". mu.ie. and", lyric J>O"try, might mo.'. men 10 action : lio race A" t o t-j . • t'r . 6, Wimmer (I>
g<:"."t.
Criticism in Anliqui!J 4 contrast them with philosophy and mathematics, in which, as he thought. 'the facl$' alone determined the manner of expression. I n pUlling it like this, he also exprt:ssed in epigrammatic form something which Greek and R oman poets seem 10 have taken for granted: namely, that we alway! writ'" for an audience, proem or future. It would ~ to deny the essential conditions orthe poet's craft, as antiqu ity saw it, ifonc were to write only for on~lr, nOI ca ring if th.., work done werc [or ever hidden from the sight of man. 3
We shall look later in more detail at the nature of rhetorical teaching and its effect on the understanding of literature.' But it is so important and so central a matter that a little more should perhaps be said at the outset. Rhetoric bad two large consequences for the development of criticism. The first is this. An orator always faces a real and definite situati on. What he asks of his technique is that it should show him how to deal with it: what to say and how to say it. A process of 'invention' precedes the process of expression, and there is thus a sharp distinction b.::tween content (to legommon ) and verbal form (Iexis). With some hazy and uncertain exceptions, ancient writers on poetry also adhered firmly to this distinction. Secondly: we observed that the rhetor's pupil is assumed to be a potential composer. One consequence of this is that the teacher distances ooth himself and his pupil from the hearers or readers, conspirtll with the pupil against them, and so views them from above and perhaps wi th some disdain. Their moral attitudes, emotional susceptibili ti t::S , weaknesses, bad laste and gullibili ty are to be studied and used. We have to convince and please people whose faults we can see more clearly than we see our own, and whOSl': characters we study in ord er to find out where they are most vulnerable. This disdain of the ordinary audi",nc", is kno wn to Aristotle in the cont"'x\ not only of rheloric 6 b ut of poetry: il is !h", ' inf"'riorily • Chpl~r VIII. • Rkfr.riI: II gi,"o a
d~(ail.-d
ucoon! of ·cha,,"c' ,,· from Ihis point of ,·in..
Prologue
5 of the spe<: tato ro' whi ch mak es them prefer ha ppy endings in traged)', though the principles of the art ma ke it clea r that these are really sig l15 of inferior workm a nship. ' In sho rt: th e rhetorical critic is concerncG with mean. to a predetermined end , and that end is th e po: rouasio n or ente rtainment of an audien ce whom he thinks of as infe rior in intelligence a nd sensibilit y to himself and his pupil . This may well seem a stran ge basis for adequate critical theory o r practice. Ye t it isjust this pragmati c bias ofso much an cie nt criticism that has strength ened a b<:lief which mos t class ical s.;ho lan- except those who have lain most completely und er the influ ence of nine teenth-eentury Ro manticism have been inclined to hold in some fo rm or other : nam el y, that Ihis material provides a special insight into th e attitudes and pres uppo. i.io n~ of lhe creativ e ",ri.c n. of a ntiq 11i t y. \ \'e seem to glimpse the insid e of the workshop. T here is obvious ly something in this. The de ta iled ill ustra tiol15 of techniq ue are th ere, in OUT tex IS, patie ntl y and oft en intellige ntly discussed from th c rhetOT 's standpoint. Moreover, there i. no d o ubt th a t the pri nc iples underl ying these discuss ions represe nt a ttitud es {O th e func tions and cxcellences of litenllure whic h "'cre generally held , ind eed ta ke n fur grant ed , and which il is necessary for students of dass ical literuture to underotand . No r is Ihere any dou bl thai , a t any rate in th e Helle ni stic and Ro man periods, a rh eturi ca l training of th e kind implied by the works of Q uill Iil ian , Dio n ~i u s or ' Long in us', was pa rt o f the e~ pe ri ence of everyone who u ied to wri te ; an d that in cl ud es Virgil, as well as th e count less ado lescen ts o f mod es t a bi lit y who 'gave ad vice to Sulla' in a sua,aria,· o r exho rt ed the Three Hundred (0 di e bravel y a t Th cnno pylac. But it is important not to exaggera te. I t scems reasonable to ask wh ethe r the view of li te ra ture con veyed by ' Longinus', Quin tilian o r H ermoge nes, with its del icate classifica tions of sty le and ana lyses or struc ture a nd ex pression, alfords a n adequate descriptio n of wha t one o bserves u neself. It is, after all , still possi ble to read G reek a nd La tin litera tu re with sensit iv ity, ' PIN'i" ' H 3' - Sr. IIOW J. F. ~ t "I",. CQ '>9 1'!!791 n If. o j m-,nal " ,6. On , •• ,..iM- fie'i ' i",,, d~tib
rompos«l ,,,
6
Criticism in Antiquity
iro ne takes the troubl e 10 learn the languages as well as one can . The limit ations imposed by the remoteness and by the lack of spea kers of th e two languages are not so great that a mod",rn reader need fed il impossible to form a valid impressio n o f h is o wn. For my own pa rI, I am fairly ce rtain thaI this ancient
rhetorical 'criticism', though undoubtedly useful in sugges ting princi p les ofjudgment and helping to elucidate authors' inten ti ons, is fundamentally not equal to th e tas k of appraising classicallitcra ture. IfprCSlwlo say why, I should be obl iged
to fall hack on an impressionistic way of prese nting the problem, and should base myself on Ihe following consideration. Th e most distinctive feature in the pagan lilcralun: of Crcttc and Rom" . ta ken a. it whole, se" ms 10 rn ~ to k !IOm~lhing only rarely hinted a t in anci~nI criti ca l t~xts: a cn:a tiv~ t~nsion betw~en directness of thought and vis ion on the one hand , and sophisticated imagery and verbal formality on the other. This is something to be see n not on ly in Theocritus or Virgil, hut in HOIll~T, Aesch ylus and Pindar too. Some such eon fii ct, I m igh t say. elevates tragedy and epic a bove th e level of th e sensational and the viole nt , and gives piquancy and elegance to satire and comedy. It is thi s tension that fashio ns for us a spe1:iai world, in which emotion, amusement and understanding an: combined in a way d iSli nct from th e ways in which such co mb ina tions arc effected in o th er lit eratures, even those most closely modelled on th e an tique. This crea tive conflict, howeve r, cannot be take n into account if we accept the commo n ancient doctrine that big words suit b ig things and litt le words little things, wilh the corollary tha t Ihere are two mut uall y exclusive Iypa of literature, the serio us or idealistic and Ih e realistic o r comic. No do ubt th e resonance. and ironies Ihat I ch eri sh CQuld not arise unless the two elemen ts of th e co nflict were apprehe nded se paralely; bu t to erect Ihis sepa rat e apprehens ion into a principle of the classificat io n of literature is 10 surrend er judgm ent to insensitive dogma. Yet this o ften h appcn~ . It i~ typica l o f the c rit ical consensus of ant iq u ity when Longinus complains of impropriety in an evid entl y piquant a nd highly coloured passage of Theopo mpus' hislory.o It is typica l too when S<-rvius tdls us that the style of Am.iel I V is 'comic'. be• 0. ,kb/i,..i
Prologue
7
cause the subject is love, no normal epic theme. 'o And it is an excep tiona l recognition of Ont: form of the teminn I have tried to deline when Demelri us commends Xenophun fur wri ting lightly of a grim and fearsome cha racter, and sagely co mm ents on the effect achieved by saying that 'one may be cooled by wa rmth and wa rmed by cold'." It is perha ps worth remembering, howe\"er, Ih al the /irs t ev id ence we have lor th is 'consensus dichotomy' of types of writing i. in a CUnlext wh i.:h does nOt encourage US to la ke it too serious ly: the de bate between Euripides and Aeschy lus in Aristophancs' Frogs. 11 is reasonable to believe that sensitive readers in antiquity, had th ey chosen to make their responses a rticulate, would have secmed wiser and more soph istica ted than thei r teac hers and theorists.
Wh en we speak of a 'nitic' , we du of cuurse use a Greek word. The krili/;.QS i$ the man who is capable o r judging (kr'ntin ) . What sorts of 'judgment' of literature were enl'isaged by the Gr~ ks themselves? Some H ellenistic litera ry scholars actually used the name. According to Crates of "",allus, " a h i/ito! was a superior grammali/;'os, who nceded to have a comple te grasp of a ll know_ ledge concerned wilh logos, no t merely lexicography an d metre. He was concerned primarily with the interpretation a nd aut hentic it y of older books, especially the Home ri c epics. H is main role was thus to decide historical questions, not 10 ma ke val ue-j udgmenlS; but he might well lise interna l c rileria of style a nd cont Cnt, or e\"en mural considerations, in Ih ~ cOUl~e of his work. In Horace," howeve r, we lind lfilid classing En nius as a 'second H omer', a nd thi. seems to he a judgment un his importance an d \laltle. The grouping, o rdering and labelling L. S« App
P.rdu,,,,·,, OJ
195~ .
E/>iJllts
' .1.,50 (AU.: p. 'n).
8
CritidHIl ill Allliqui!J
of authors read in school was indeed a CommOn activity of the
grammarian or krilikos, and ~metimes of the teacher of rhelOric also.!· It falb short of anything we could call criticism or reasoned judgment. A more hopeful approach to the question is suggnled by a n:m ark of'Longinus': Th t question we must put 10 OUI"$(h"es for diS(ussion is how \0 avoid th t fauhs which are 50 closely oound up with sublimity. The answer, my friend, is Ihis: by first of all achieving a genuine understanding and appreciation oftrue sublimity. Til;' is difficuh : li terary judgment (logOn k,;,iJ ) come< only .... th e final product (1.1tI4/4;on .pigtnnim4) of long experience."
This prompts two reflections. (i) The function of hilis in this passag'" is to distinguish the good quality, 'sublimit y', from errors which su~rficiall y resemble it and arc incurred in the search for it. Now this is an idca which is also familiar in ethics. Ari.totl,,', theory of virtue envioag« .imi!ar risks of error. Demetrius actually makes the parallel between morals ane sty les explicit: Just as certain bad qu al ities are adjacent to certain good ones-~ audacity to confidence, or shame to modesty- so, adjacent to our types ofstyk, there are cenain mistaken types . .. " But 'Longinus' goes funher than Demetrius. His d esired quality of sublimity is not simply analogous to the mora! quality of a noble mind, it is an expression of this, and thejudgmen\ to be made aoom it rests therefore on a moral as well as an aest hetic sensibility. (ii ) The power to make such a decision comes not from the application of rules hut as a kind of bonus (tpigmnimll ) oflong ex~rience. Thi. i. a common point. It was gen"rally und"rstood in antiquity that rul", (prMClpla, para~g,lmala) had their limitations. The notion of an irrational cri terion (alogos niMh/sis, 'non-rational sensibility' ) is common enough in Greek "Moot notably in Ireati!le:l on 'imitation': 1)"10",, Chapter VI [ 9. " 6. ',. O. JIJI. "4 (ALe 194)-
5tt
np. Quintilian
10_' ,
and
Prologue
9
criticism of literature and the art5. Dion ysius" seems to have believed that the: 'pleasantness' or 'unpleasantn ess' of a picre of lit e:ralllre is judged by such irrationa l sensibilit y, but its ' bea ut y' and 'excellence' as a speci men of the craft by rat ion a l princ ipl e<. 'Longinus' on ce again goes furth er. For him. the essential facult y ofjudg melll is bo th mo ra l, as we ha ve seen, a nd at th e samc lim e dcpendent On cxpcrience rather Ihan On precept. He thus re presellis a point of v iew distinct fro m that ofDionysius. Pres umabl y it differ; a lso from Ihat of hi s nominal opponent, Caecilius ofCa leacte, who was, it seems, a friend of Dion ysius. For the co mplaint levelled against Caecilius at th e beginning of the boo k is p recisely that he struggled to d efine 'sublimity' at inordinate leng th - in other words, to give a ra lional account of it - wilho ul e xplaini ng how it is to be achi eved. ' Lo nginus' . we should infer. would disa pprove of a ny cla im (() t~ach kri$i$, 'jud gment ', by me"n.' of rules. Like mos t Grcr k critks, he works largely by drawing a lle ntion to fea tu res in p"ni cular cxampks. To find a SlalCment of rul e. which purport to mak e possible a systema tic ev alua tion of a work orJiurature we ha \"(~ to look elsewhere, and at a lower level of wri ting altoge t ha. T wo sho rt trea li sc:s, attributed to Dionysi us, and p robabl y da lin g from the second or third century A. D ., prov id e so mething of wh"t we walli. Th ese treatises ls d eal os ten.libl y with the 'examination' (txtlasis ) of declamation a nd with mista kes (plimmt/oumcna) commonly made in such exe rcises. Now declamations (mdt/a!) were forensic or d el iberative speec hes wriuen fo r fi ctional or hi storical occasion£, int cnded to cxcrcise Ih c futun: ora lOr in th e invention a nd selection or lila te ria! lInd in stylistic ingenuity. They wue a natural pari of rhetorical educat ion, as il d e. veloped in Hellenistic tim es. On th e on e ha nd, th ey re nce t th e desire of stud ents for somelhing less humdrum Ih"n strictly vocatiOt"'! tea ching ; o n Ihe other, the y show Ihe lend ency of teachers 10 give th eir instru ction a more liber"l a nd imagin
;, ;n 1::,*,/;,., H Ol d/' 5 (' 979), 1' 3 ff.
Criticism in Antiquity loo k. They maintained their popularity down to the last age of clasoical antiquity, and indeed throughout the Byzantine period.l~ Their fictional content and the freedo m of in,·ention which they demanded ma ke the m a bridge betw~"/riJli" .d. G. W. Bowcrwck
.'it,"""
( '9H ), '7A"·
'" to.,·69 (" I.e 390)·
Prologue
"
embellishments of rhe torical skill ; and finaJl )' ..... he ther the langu age is clear, pure and elegantl y diversifi ed. T his pedagogic synthesis reaches no great depth ofill5ighl. It ..... ou ld bc foolish to ma ke much ofil. BUI it does- and in Ihis it seems 10 be unique in an cient criticism - attem pt to state a comprehensive se t of rules for c rit ical j udgm ent , uniting bo th rhelOrical and moral standpoints. i1s presuppositions, ho ..... eve r, are by no means unique. T hey are typical of the consensus ach ieved in the imperial period by classieisi ng critics a nd readers whose primary interest lay in the old Attic literature and the ways in wh ich it could still be imi_ tated and reproduced. Taken with what we have Sten of Dion ysius a nd 'Longinus' , it e nables us to filrm some view of wh at lite rary judgment (krisis logon ) was supposed to entail, a t any ra te in the f.'lirl y stable cultural conditions of the fi rs t three centuries of th e Ro man Empire. The hilikoJ in this sense, the man good a t ma ki ng such judgments. would need a t least three qualiti C!l. He would have to have a keen sense- a trained sensi bilit y rather than articulatc prinl:ipk-s- of linguisti<.: and sty listic fo rm , an aware n= of th e moral aspects of lite ra ture, and a realisatio n thaI th e writ er is a membe r of a com munit y of le ttcrs which 'tn~ t c h es back into the past and indudes the great classics themsel ves. Wo ul d he also need schol ars hi p? Onl y, it seems, as an aid to mora l and rhetorical discrimination. Plutarch may hel p uS here. It is scho la rly (philologon), he tells 115,21 to und er.lt and th e hard word. in the old po<:t$. \\' hal is a bso. lutel y essential, ho wever, is something dilfe r~,n! - a n under_ stand ing of 'how the JlO<"ts uM the nam es of the goos a nd of good and bad, and what they mean by Fortune an d Fatc'. For Plutarch, the old poet ry is a means of mora l education , and its stud y can be defended fo r this reason. Scholarly knowledge is th us ~o ug ht nOllor il5 Own sa k ~ but in SO far as it ~u bscrvo:s th e moral purpose by preventing misinte rpretatio ns which might lead to dangerous misconceptio ns about matte,..., of ethics and religion. A similar a tti tud e prevailed about historical know. ledge. Wha t is call ed hiSlaria in the Greek of thi s period CO\'ers nut only histo ry in the modern sense, bu t many kinds of schola rl y and scient ifi c fa CIS. All this too i$ ancillary - if not to " .\lc,.li. ~"C (AlL ~~O r.)
Criticism in Anliqlli!J moral education, then to rhetoric. A certain knowledge of the hi-torieal background of Demosthenes' .~ches is clearly necessary to unde rstand the text and appreciate the rhetorical techniques. But that knowledge falls far short of a proper narrative history oflhe period . For all the drort that the ancient schools put into the slUdy of the classical Orators, no true historical commentary on their works was ever put together. The consequen<xs of this for modern understanding offourthcentury Greece have been serious. The Romans perhaps did rather better: Astonius' commentaries on Cicero go somewhat deeper than th eir Greek equivalents. 5
'Longinus' spoke of tri.ris lagon, 'Dionysius' of txt laiis [Pgofl. We have seen something of wh at this 'judging' or 'ellamining' involved. But what about the object of the process? What is meant by logo;? Though 'Dionysius' is writing about declamation, we have seen that what he says is not limited 10 that kind of composition; indeed his doctrine of ;thOl seems actually more appropriate to dialogue and drama than to speeches. And in the passage of'Longinus'. the word is an embarrassment 10 the translator. No one English word suffices: 'words" 'speeches', 'discourse', 'literature', all mislead. Behind the verba l question lies one of substance. What kinds of discourse dna ' Longinus' believe to be the appropriate subject of the trisis which he envisages? H is own practice, and that of the other 'criti cs', make the range fairly dear. It includes poetry of all kinds, oratory, history and the ph ilosophical dialoguc. Treatises and letters ofa certain formality could safely be added. Bu t it does $ttm as th ough evidence of conscious art was required; no one in antiquity ever propounded the view that every use of language, however ephemeral or cas ual, oould be subjected to formal or moral examination of this kind. Yet there is no general term, either in Gr~k or in Latin, for the whol e body of 'critic-worthy' literature. It is usually described by meam of an enumerat ion; 'poets, orators and pJ"()Se, writcrs' or the like. Ciccro in his Oralo~l uses five categories:
"O.a"" 6, -~. Sa I><Jow, Chap'u X 6.
Proiogul
'3
orator, sophist, philosopher, historian and poe t. The only thinke r who tried to establish a classification of the formal uoa of language which was not b"""d merely on the superficial di fference between verse and prose o r on habitual descriptions of genm; which aC1UOIlly existm. was Aristotle. In thi s excursion into literary theory he was unique. Nothing wrin"'n aft",r him <:quailed Ihe precision and suggestiveness of Ihe opening chapters of the Pottits, where the scope alld claMification of IX'Ctry arc con.idcrcd. l l According 10 the view SCI fort h here. fHJiiliki, which covered in common usage th e composition of epic, drama, elegy and lyric, belonged to a ge nus of' mimetic' arts employing speuh, rhythm and harmony -any or all of them - in the representation ofhuman (Character, emotion (or 'suffcrin g' )l' and action. It differed from in_ st rumental music OInd dOln cing in being uIIOIhlc to do withou t speech. But it was not unahle to do without melfe ; Aristotle reckons as po!iliki the composition of such prose works as Sac r,,,ic dialogues, because they imiulle people doing SOmething, while at Ihe same tim e exeluding verse written for the purposes of $(;ientifi~ expos ition, such a s the philosophical poems of Empedocles. Jt follows th at had Aristotle known any developed form of the novel, he would have reckoned it as poii.is. Indeed , in much later times, when Greek novels had come into being, I:x:come respecta]}l", and finally achieved Ihe stat us of classics, BV7.antine .<;<; holars used AriSl
t
~8 ) .
'e<:" I. U('" "" /0<. " E.ampl<:> or Ilj'umine ,,,,,·d ..er;';(;. ,,, ma y be found In .\\. I'.dlu,· critiques "n Achill ... Taliu, (A(~IH<.! T.rill>, nl . E. Viloorg, ,W f.) and Hdiodocu. ( lid"""" A(1h;op"4, nl . A. Colomta, 364 f.J. ,. Ari. totte (fr. i" R"",) did ;n fac t ad"';re ""r ta;n """ms of ~:ml"'dod.,.;
but those mcntior>eII<>. and ·traged;..·.
'4
Crilirum in Anliquiv
narrower concept than what we usually mean by 'poetry'; a
jorliori ie is narrower than the 'literature' we are seeking, if by that we mean the whole proper subject of moral and formal Cr,Uclsm.
This must of course indude oratory. And this isone thing that Aristotle strictly ududcd. In his view 'rhetori.;' was a wholly dist inct art from 'poetic', and Wa5 not ' mimetic' at all. The orator uses language primarily for penua"ion, and he uses it as a parI of his real activity in life, not ill play or prete nce. This diffe rence is fundamental. It was however not felt in early tim~: in He:siod,21 the Muse.. help the king as well as the poet, the persuader as well as the channer; and Solon and other earl y poets appear 10 have used both iambic and elegiac poetry for the practka[ ends of public policy. But Aristotle n:garded the difference as vital. PIal(), from a more moralistic standpo int, had stressed both common featun:s 18 and (man: seriously ) differences. Both arts, in his view, were dangerous: rhetoric, be<:auSt: ,he deee; v,," people into ac ting on fa!.e informadon
and 'prefers the probable to the true'; poetry, beca use th e prac· tice of imitation corrupts the mind , and the corruption extends to real·life activitics. The grounds of objec tion are different , because the things the mselvcs are different. Of course, any 'rhetorical' use of speech can be 'imitated', but the imitation-a work of fxJiiliki-~ no din:cl power of persuasion, but only the capacity inhen:nt in all poetry to induce habits of mind, good or bad, which may subSCC)uently be shown in our own actions. Poetry thus contains much 'imitation' rhetoric, and this is especially true of Home r and the dramatists, on the observation of whose practice moot Greek poetic theory in fact rested. Simil arly, oratory might wdl involve mimiJis of words and actions which the speaker needs tl.l describe in order to further his case. Again, an orator may pretend to doubts or attitudes he doa not really fed; his studied speech then becomes an 'imitation' of reality.:!9 Yet these overlaps are superficial. Essentially, Aristotle was surely n T .....I"'lJ' 80 If.;...,r ,\ 1. L. West 4<1/(1(. ,. C"'tu" ~.,.c If.
,. s..- thr po ....g. from Al.xand.,·, ,.. ,,,t.,od in App
, ..... ,;" 'on figut<'''.
Sp
3."
ff.:
Prologue
'5
right: rhe toric and poctic~ arc different , even opposed, arts, the one d ea ling in reality, however ignoble, th e other in illusion, however splendid. Yet the mutual influence and inlcrdependence of lhesc lwo b rancht."S o f lheory, and of oratory and poetry thcmsel\"ts, are "ery great. It is no t ha rd to see why this shou ld be so. For One thing, there is th e ovedapofpurpme which we have already obsen-cd. Both oratory and poetry a im to affect lheir hearers, Ihough with different goals and in somewha t different wa ys. Both th erefore need similar psyc hological tec hniqu es and understanding. Seco ndly, Ihe skills of language a re much th e ""me for both. Aris(O\le's own discu$sion of IHIS ('diction' ) in the third book of hi. Hllt/oriC'" refers hack to th e Pot/ic$. H~ sees the differences: poetic vocabu lilry must avoid the lower registers whi ch are in place in prose. Bill Ihe essential precepts a re commo n. \Ve have already to uched on, and shall have occasion to di sc uss later,31 th e com mo n a ncient view that words are th e ou tward dress of th ought and th at even in poetry the underlying ' thing silid' Cilll bc distinguished from its clothing of words and , ifnet.x\ m:, paraphrased in others. This is certainly part of the reason for th e linh between th e discu ssions of styJe in rhetoric and in poetics. jI,'lorcover, Aris totle trea ted drama a.o; the central poetic form, and the construction of a plot (mulhos, 's tory ') as the poet's fi rs t task. The pl ot, like th" orators case. needed a doth ing of words- the most appropriate, of course, and SO whollyde tnmined by the prior choice of content. T he comic poe t M enander, reproached wi th not having written his pby for an imminent fest ival, is sa id to have replied that it was all iinished really - the plot was made, he onl y had to write the lines. J ' T hi s was to speak both as a good pupil of the Peripatos, and as a man with a rhetorical mind. In view of these considerations, it is perhaps not surprising that th e sharp Platonic and Aristotelian distinction belween poe try as a 'mimetic ' art and rhetor ic a.o; 'non-mimetic', should have had comparatively lillie influ ence on later classifica ti ons and eva lu a tions ofJ ite rature. Critical theory, as o{t"n, did not have mu ch power over criti ca l prac ti c". In fact , the vcry .. 1404" If. (ALe 136 fr. ). "Chap"" tX . " pt utarch . .II... 3478 (ALe 3).
,6
Crificism ill Antiquity
classification which Aristotle regarded as [he most superficial, that by metre, remained the most u5ua! for all practical purposes; it is clearly ~en, for example, in the lists of authors commended by Quintilian as useful n:~ading for the budding orator.lJ Mor"'o'"cr, the qualities of style in poe try ca me incn:asingly 10 be regarded a$ different o nly in degree from those evident in prose,,l4 and the elaborate systems of stylistic discriminations which were the pride oflate r rhetoric we re based On observation of the poets as well as the o rators, and were held 10 apply equally to both. It i. easy to see historical reasons for this. One is the rise of a Greek dassi cising literature by th e first ce ntury B.C. , with standards of language and thought based on the whole corpus of approved olde r writing, poetry as well as prose. Anothe r factor, closely related 10 this, is the retreat of rhetoric from public (ife to the classroom, with the consequent indulgence in fantasy and fun and divorce from the sterner needs of vocational training. All this tended 10 minimise the differen""" between the twO arts. I ndeed, metre a part, the essential difference (for practical purposes) came \0 be thought to be one ofsubjecl-maller, not of type of activity. Poetry had greater licence (Jianlia, txousia ) both in language and in fantasy, whereas oratory had the closer (inks with reality and act ion. 'L.lnginus'JS expres<es this dearly in conn ~ tion with what he eaJls phanlasia, the imaginative visualisation of a scene or a mood: The j:>O(:tical examples ... have a quality of exaggera tion which be. longs to fable and goes far beyond cr.-dibility. I n a n orator's visualisa tion., 011 the other hand, it is the clement of fact and t!"\lth ...·hieh makes for sueeea. Lucian makes a similar point: 36 Poetry enjoys unqualified freedom. l u oole law is the pod. will. He i. possessed and inspirul by the Muses. lfhe wants to harnea a team
of winged horses, or make people run on water or o,"er the top oftlte corn, nobody grumbles ... '" Quin'ilian '0.' (Al.C:J80 If.) . .. Se~ btlow. Ch~pl" X 6. on Proch. > .<<<Jun' ur,he><" rna"", . .. ' .'i ·H. cr. I><-Iow. Cha[ll.r V II 7. )0 n, {MH<,i","", hu""i. 6 (ALe ~37) .
Prolog~{
,7
6 Let us, in conclusion, Iry to formula te some ass umptions On which the 'critks' of the imperial agc worked . 1 am thinking especially of ' LQ ngin"~'; a propt'r inl<;rpn: tation of On !Ublimi!)' is al the heart ort he whole subject. Fo ur poinls come to mind: (i) The 'crit k' is concerned wilh all poetry and formal prose, which furm a unified (tho ugh nUl very well defined ) corpus of lileral ure, (ii ) He fcd; bound IOdiscuss it in both eth ical and rhe to rical tcrms, and to minim ise the confli ct octween th ese twO I)Oints "fview. (iii ) On Ihe rh elOrical side, stylistic diflerellliat ion has occomc the single most important topic. (i") Poetry and prose differ in degree of realism, and lhe difference is a wide one; but lhe Ari stotelian insight that imaginative literature uses di'l<;ounoe in a rundamentall y diffe rent ('mimetic') way rro m o ratory is either forgotten or set aside as nO! relevant to (he busint:$li ofreading,j udgillg and reproducing the d as.~ica l texts. How did suc:h a Set of
CIIJlPTER TWO
Narrative: from the Beginnings to Aristotle TilE earli~ t literature of Gre<:ce, the heroic epic, mark.'! abo the beginning of literary self-conscious ness. T he poet of the OdYH~Y has bards among his characters and praises their trade. A good poet, we are told, brings events vivid ly to life. H e learns his w ~}"' of $ong from the Mu.e, and with he r help beeoITle. a valued and r~pected visitor in princely houses.' T he epic poet is e"idenlly expected to make pronouncements abou t his arl the hard is a part nfthe heroic socie ty whieh he represents- and 10 di splay his profCSllion as one of SUITle co nsequ ence. The stories that Homer was a child of a scr"ant of the schoolrnastcr Phcmios, ami that he became hlind and begged his h read, a re later romancing. 2 BUlthcre is no ovnt criti<:i'm in Ih ee pic, no sugges tion tha t some talcs are untrue or that some predecessors have gone wrong. T heTC may of conrse have been suppression or expurgation, hut that is unprovable.' HesioJ, it is true, inlriguingly ma kes the [I.·l uses say that 'they know how to tcll many lies thaI resemble the Irul h. and also, when they wish, to lell thc tTlllh itsclr ; but he mak.,;, no specific charge, ;",d it is an uncertain conjeClUre Ihat he i~ thinking of the mylhs in Homer.' Nevertheless, cri ti cism of th e absurdity or moral offcnsive, OJ.1~,,-r '.366 tf. , A·Hi If.• ' ~ · 34~ If.; AI.e ,- . ; Lan ata ' - '9 · 'See the 'Life ofllomer by Herodotu" (cd. T . W . Allen in O. C . T. Homer, w>1. v), "work or,he latc Hdlc wa. startOd hy G . M urra)", • n~~.")· 26 ff. (ALC. ). s.-e btlo,.,.. Ch.ptcr VI 4.
n.
'9 ness orthe my thology ens hrined in the tradit ional poc':ms began, it seems, in the sixth century with the Ionian philosopher Xcnuphan 05;' defcnc\: by allegory-i .e. the discovery of acceptahle concealed meanings undcmcath the unacc",ptable
surface- is sa id aJ'IQ 10 have begun about the same time, with Thcagcno of Rhcgium, 'the first man to write about H omer'.6
Even at this early period, the epics, already obsolete and puzzling in language and (Olllent, wen: beginning to attract the inlcrpn:talivc activities which have nevcr ccased since, and which contributed immensely to the dc"elopmcrH of articulate "iews about Ihe !latun: and qualities ufpoetry.
Lyric poe ts- induding the compo>;ersof choral lyric, whospcak through the dlOruseS they ha\'c lrain~d - can corne forward in their own persons much mo~e easily than epic bards. The Iy~ie poet is not primarily a narrator, though he may of courn: tdl sto ri es, as did Slcsichorus and Pindar, and it is noticeable that both Plato and Aristo tl e emphasised th is aspec t of his wor k. It is tllU~ not SO violent a breach of continuity or of illusion if he steps forward with personal commen!. I n Pindar indeed this is common enough to look like an established convention. His ow n rdation 10 the M use as her prophet or spokesman, his rival , ' plodding incompetence, Home r' s seductive falsifications, the improp rieties ofrnylh, are alilhemes which he takes up, olien touching briefly and allusively on them, as thin gs exj>ected and well understood.' It would appear also tha i it was Ihe ly ric poets who counter-att ac ked moral critics like XenophHnes. At any r~te. when Plalo· gives examples of ,,·hat he ca lls the 'ancknt quarrel lx:twecn philosophy and poetry", it is from lyric that he quotes, though the provenance oflhe lines is un known, sharp phrases like 't h e bitch that harks 011 mastn' , ' L.n;". "3 Jr. 5<-,. at", hel",,'. C~.p'~r VJ ~ • • Lana'a "'4 If.
, I'indar fro '50, 01. ~ .fI)-9'J. N"". , . 12; AIL" 3- 4; Lanala 74-<;17; C . M. 80,,·.... /'i""« •. ch. I ; "1a~hJcr, ch. 6; M. R. [..rlO"·;I~ in IISCI' 67 ( 1963) '77f., and CQ,8 ('978) 461 f. • R,p. 6o(ic-[I [ALe H ).
'0
Criticism in Antiqui!;y
' mighty among the vain words of fools', 'the dainty thinkers starve', and so on. The late r comic attacks on Socrates and the sophistS perhaps only echoed and vulgarised this apparently .:arlier tradition of invective.
3
Drama and its attendant critical response are connected with somewhat different social and political conditions rrom epic and lyric. Plays were JXlpular entertainments al great festivals, the dramatists competed normally under the auspices of the Athenian demos. Thejudges altho:: Oionysia, who had 10 rank the plays in order, were not a panel of th eatre (;ritics. 9 They were a jury chosen by lOt, and they must have be",n expected to give dedsions in tunc with popular taste. No doubt their sphere was much limited by the fact that the archon had aln:ady selec ted the three oomf'Ctitol1l. No doubt topicality, .entiment and ~pcc tade had weight. But we . hou ld surely belie"" 1hat they looh..:l also, and with some degree of connoisseurship, at the poetry and the plot-oonstruction. The hes t evidence for this is th " prevaknceof parody and caricature in Atti c comedy. The various Euripi d"an scenes of Ackarniall.l, Tlusmopkllrio()is(U and P.ac., nOI to .peak of th" b rilliant lyrical pastiches and debates of the frogs, are full of.hrewd observations on tragic technique. Th e function of Aristophanic parody is of coum: nOI strictly cri tical. Its primary object is not to show how someth ing is good or ba d - still less to teach t"chnique or point a moral-b", to "xaggerate recognisable feaw...,. so as to make them funny. Nevertheless, histories of criticism rightly give a promineIl\ place to Aristophanes. 10 M any of Ih e terms that constitute the standard vocabula ry orIaler Greek criticism an; firlll found SO used in his p la y•. P~uchr(}s is laler the regular lerm lor failures caused b y misguided ingenuit y or grandeur; asttio~ r urbane' ) • For the evidence rdating to the j~dg,,", ,ee A. Pkkard .Camt.ridg<:, DM"""iE Ftlli,ols Df Alh... , ( td.~. (968), 951f. I. Som
Narrali,'~: flom
1M Btgznnings 10 Arislollt
"
is AriSlOtle's word for successful wit ; /i/I)$ and /,P10$ are vague expressions for deli cacy and daintiness in Alexandrian and Ani<;isl WriICT'!l. II Moreover, I he general ideas expressed in Ihe debate (agon) belween Aeschylus and Euripides in Ihe Frogs, whether original o r not, were clearly influential in shaping later stylistic theory. 111e essence of Ihe a1:on is Ihe contrast: grandiloq uence confront s wit, virili ly confronts d ecaden<:e. The Greeks loved such antitheses; and the elfect of ArislOphanes' formulation of this one was 10 sel a pattern for later stylistic d escri ptions. We shall see much more of th is pattern; I have already suggested tha t it was unfortunate, hut its influence and importanc(, are beyond question. The same debate a l!;O co ntains ideas abou t the moral and prac tical value of llOCtry whic h arc of considerable signifi cance. Aeschylus (1030 fr. ) is made to enumerate the useful services of Ihe early pOl: L~ : O,.pheus for religion, ,,-! U'\:leus fi)r healing and oracles, Hesiod for (arming, Homer for the art of war. The juke, which i. aimed al a no torious 'bad soldier' ca lled Pan _ todes, who tried to pu t on his hdmet first and his plume afterwards, derives wholly from the reference to Ho mer. T he resl of the passage makcs nv contribu tion 10 the humorous poim, except in so far as it builds up expectation. Now Horace's A,s PIM/i(Q'l contains a very similar ar)l;ument. The value of poetry is here demonSlrated by ,..,f,:rence 10 Orpheus, Am_ ph ion, the soc ial functions ofpoctry in carly limcs, and fina!!y the martial ins piration of Homer and T yrtaclIs. Though Horace ha.l elements which are n(>1 in Ari.~lophanl.o; - he allegorises the myths of Orpheus and Amphion - there is enough similarity to make some historic"l conncc tion likely. Morrov"r, it ma y be ;nfcrrro from 1'1,,10\ Pro/agoras (3,6D) that some wphists claimed lhal Ih.ir ar, was the great ("ivi liscr of mankind, and thaI Orpheus, Hcsiod alld Musaeus were, in their sense, 'sophists'. Th e hislorical possi bilities are two. Either Ari5 tophancs takes up a defence of poe try already current; Or else he modifies what was origina!!y a dcf"nce of sopko;, 'wise men ', gcner;,!!y, for the particular purpose of his debate. [n either case, it is intr.n,:1Iing 10 speculate on what happelled III:XI. Is
"J. D. Dcnn ;'I<m. CQ'"
('9"7) "3--'l1. U A " "..'i(. 39' It cr. Brink 38~ If.. Pohlen., " p. cit.
Critici=
i~
Antiqui!J
H orace's ultimate 'source' no other than Aristophanes? Or did some more serious sophistic apologia of poetry reach the Peripatetics and their Roman adapter independently of comedy? Rudolf pfeiffer, in hi. classic account of the develop_ ment of ancient scholarship, U reasonably suggests that Calli_ machus owed the expression of hi. literary id eal - the delicacy and li"'tis of the Alexandrians - precisely 10 Aristophancs' formulation of the qualities of Euripides. If this is true, il is an inSlanCe of a habit we can dete<:1 even in Plato: the habit of taking Old Comedy too seriously, either a. a historical source or as a quarry for ideas.
• We are told by Plu tarch'" that the description of Aeschylus ' &~"'n againsl ThM.s as 'a drama full of the God of War' comes from th e famous orator and teacher Corgia! of Leontini. It occurs in fact in Aristophanes, at Frogs 10ZI. Much has been built on this; it has been supposed that Aristophanes reproduces Corgia.· theory. But the bu ilding is shaky, for Plutarch may simply be mistak en. Th ere can be no doubt, however, that, of all the sophists and teachers of rhetoric of his day , Corgias had mQSt to do with the beginnings of crilicalthcory. Three propositions which he appears to put forward in his Difmct of Htiln are cruciaL" Th e first is that poetry ill logos uho~ m",ro~ , 'spec<:h having (i. e. 'with' ) metre ', This is opcn to the interpretation that all that is needed to convert prose into poetry is metrical fonn. Such a view was common enough later. It was rejected by Aristotle in the opening chapter of the Pl#'lics. It wa. abo rejected by Horace :1& if you brea k up the metre of semWnts like Lucilius' o r Horace's own, of course there is no poetry left; but do the same with some splendid pie<:e of Enniu., and th e disiuli m(mbTa pt)(lal are recognisable enough. But did Gorgias " Ifi"• .., ~ C/DSii«l/ Sdwl."h;p i. "tll".11•• _ 7'5., Ij.an .. a ".-,/;). t.~, fJll> (;t>IIIJ (ALC ~67 ).
" Ex ,ract> in A.LC 6--8;
grneral, V, Buchhrit. ,. s"lim '-i-56 fr,
in Radermacher , A..Ii ... Sc.ipw,<J; itpilti( liM>I. 30 fr,
5«
in
]{arratit't: jrom tht Btginllings to Aristotle
'3
really mean that metre alone turned prose into poetry~ It is natural 10 ask whether he conceives the relationship between IOgM and me/ron as an inte rna l one between wholly integrated e1emcnts of a whole, or an external one in which ' poetl)" is simply the sum of the two. The safest way of amwering this question is br looking closelr at the context. Gorgias is 'defending· or 'excusing' Helen. One defence is that she was deceived by logos. Now for this to be an dTective argument, logos should be represented as something she could not possibly be expected to resi<1. [I ha., 10 be ered il ed wit h Ihe greatesl possible emo_ tional power. Now Ihe emOlion:!1 imp:!et ofpoctl)'- its power to terroriseand sweep us off our feet - is, as Gorgias make~ clear, universally acknuwledged. I~gos in general must then be see n to ha\"e the same force. Th e spo:cial charactcristicsofpoetry and its dill',;:rc nce from pmse ha\"e the refore \() be minim ised. Iflhis is best dune, as it would seem, by t.eating metron as an r,xtcrnal ornamelll. 'H)I affc<:ting Ihe intrim i<: qualities of the whole, then this is how we should condude Gorgias wishl"
dilT
,·i~w,"""
E,".!,,,,,, 5, , !.
'4
CriliciJm in Antiquity
perceive
5 Thu s, by Ih e end of the fifth century, the foundations both of interpretative schula r:s hip "ud urliterary theory had been laid. The first had emerged mainly from concern with Homer, the second from reflection on the impact of Attic drama. But poetry was not the only art to invite rcfkction and discussion. The lalter part of the fifth century was also the age in which the skills of pcnluasive speec h were first systematically taught, by Gorgias him~lf among others. Thi., as we have ~en and shall see again, was of decisive importance for all future lit erary understanding. Al the same time, music, paiming and sculpture flourished, all potential topics for the new spi tit of q uesuoning. Damon ofOa,'~ who is assoc iated both with Prodicus and with Pnicles, is said to have written - supposedly as early as the +los - a fictitious Addms 101M ArtfJPagRJ in which he discussed the psychological e ffect of music and the way" in which it co uld repro:scnt various states of charactn (11M). This remained a prime interest of musi callheory: the different instrum ents, and still more the different 'modes', were held to have various powers over the emotions of the hearer. But music, though II M",..li.. 3~8c (AI.C 6). A limilar .rgum~nl in anOlh..,. ""phi.I;C l~xt Diu.; hpj 3. I D. ,. t·, La...,,, •. PIMUlN,,,,·1It I.. "'lIJiq",·, Lau ... nn. '954,54 If., Wil .. mowitz, G.inItiJ
./I'arratiu: fro m tkt BrginningI to Aristotlt
'5
closely allied with poetry in many situations, was only inci dCllIall}' a represelllatio nal art, and did not offer a model of m;mi$is in \he way \bat painting dearly did. If SimonidL"S realiy said that 'p"inting is silem poetry, poetry is pain ting that talks',l<:hoolmasler, look this up_ 'Of coun;e, Sophucles, you are an eX~rl in poetry. But Phrynichus ,,·"s surely wmng in calling the boy's chee ks "red"_ Ifa painter were w uSe;, red colour for them, the boy ,,-uuld,,', he a heauty any more, ,.' Sophocles laughed, 'Then I lake iI, 8ir,' he said, 'thaI you don't appl'Q\'e eilher of Simonide!!' much-admired line, "Ihe maid from red lips spuking"- or of Homer', "gold-h:lir"') Apoll"'" For if the painter had made Ihe god's hair gold and not black, the painting would ha,-e t..:.:n worse, And whal about "r<.»y_ti ng ercd"? If you dipped your finge", in rOSe colour, Ihe resuh would be a dye_worker'~ hands, nOt th.,..., of a heautiful woman. '2l The dill~rence belween ~tical and graphic represenlation was not made so dearly again in anti(luity,
6 It has always seemed shocking that Plato, Il Ihe grealest literal)' genius of (he fourth century, Ihe effective im'cntor and ,. Plu\a«h, M(}I, 346y (ALC 3), " hm of Chioo f' , 8 '"On Bt""'~lllbal (39' .'6 J~coby; ALC 4- 3), "P. ViC3ir~, Plalc~ : "ili"", lilli'ai". i. lh~ moot u...rut 'ur,,~y, but \he lileralure u immw",. 1\ ..""'" """'y of diuincti"n i. h i> Murdoch, Til< F;" aod rJu S~o ( ~on h~r Roman .. U t' ''''' or 1976), Scoc al"' J, .... oordcric. 11 lJialCl "' pl.leoi.;,.
Criticifm in Anti'luilJ unequalled pr..ctitioncr of a highly M>ph istieated genre, the philosophical dialogue, which may properly be regarded as the literary sy mool of free inquiry, shou ld at the same time have consistently advocated the most rigid and doctrinaire moral censorship of the arts. Clearly aware that exccllo:nce and correc tness in poctry were distinct from excellence and correctness in other activities, he drew the conclusion that they must a lways give way to moral considera tions. Poets could han: no claim to knowlo:dge j they peddled illusion and dece it. The bener pocts they were, the more likely they were to deprave. It is easier to ~ympathise with his parallel rejection of rhetoric. \Ve readily range ourse lves against those who 'honour the probable above the truth', Ihe 'flatterers' (kolaktj ) who cynically exploit (he " 'eakness or their fellow men. We enjoy it therefore when Plato shows us how absurd are the pretentions of the rhetoricians, how facile and easily parodied the tricks of thcir trade, how ridiculous th eir tec hni calt erms.llit is when iLl in his Gorgias- he cxtends his condemnation to all sucial and political systems which rest on public persuasion that unease returns. The ancient debate over Plato's attaek on rhetoric continu<:d int o the last ages or the ancien t world . AeEus Ari~tid es, summiug up the rhetors' answer in the late second century A.V., produces the clinching argument: RhelOrie . . " .«.\ itl\"en ted ... as a defence of righleousnC'lS and a bond of life for mankind,"" that matters mighl be decided nO( by strength of arm or by W(aptHlS, not by number. and si~e; in plau:..,f all Ihis, Reason ..... ,., I.., dClCTTIl;nc ju.( 5<)lu(;oos in peacc and quicl. 1' T h~-se
Platonic altitudes, and our rC$ponse to thcm , take us a long way from the ordinary levels ofliterary judgment. They represent the working-out of certain extrclll e positions. The R~/JWbli( appears to lustain IwO proposit ions: that only ' knowledge of the Forms' possesses real validity, nlher kinds orhuman ulld eT! tanding heing inferior in varying tlegrees; and that the principles of political life shou ld be established on Ihe assump-tio n thai we can find or create rulers ..... ho do in fa<;1 have both
/'h,,"' .. , .,66". "0, ./;•• If. (There i. a" t:"gti, h Ira.,,!. by C . A. IIo!hr in Ihe Loeb U
f..g.
~.~IO
cl r;"iJu. ,"(O!. i
1'9731.)
N arra/ivt : jrIJm /Ilt Btgillnings /0 A ris/Pllt
'7
true knowledge and the ability to apply it to practical problems. The difficulty inherent in interpreting statements made in this context and as par! of this modd is that of assessing the clement offanta.'lY and irony in it all. T he more litcrally wc take Plato's attack on the poet.>, the mOre plainly we have to confess that his polit ical despair, in its search for scapegna ts, led him to a total, one might almos t say hyster ica l, rejectiun of a large dement in the culture in which he was brought up. But this seems absurd. Perhaps it is only the lip-rejection common in radical thinkers. I rony abounds in the dialogues; perhaps it is hue too. Something like th is is P. Vicair~--s conclusion, at the end ofa very careful and methodi ca l study. The irony , he says, touche!; other writers and the am they practice, but turns back 011 to the philosopher himself, insofa r as he consents 10 write; it i$ then the daily s."Jeguard, 'he ind ispc:nsah1e re>o:rva,ion , 'he mea", of freeing on""elf from a uni,"~rsal w~aknos; mure dea<-sigh\cd than the rest, ron~ious of the danger.! he mns hi,meJr, 'he philosophe< set< up ,hi, smiling, sometim,," uther melancholy, defence, wh ich allow. him always (0 keep his distance ." I' la(o's theoretical arguments, neve n heless, will «)lItem us in the ir place, as will the replies and discussionj which they excited. They touch on great issues: the poe t's nature and commitment, and the quality and condition~ of h is mimisis of the world. But Plato'S own understanding oflherawre appears far more dearly in his pastiche than in his theory: in the speeches ill (he S)'mposium, especially Agathon's; in t he mock funer al speeeh of the AftntxUlUS; and in the Lysias parody in the Phatdrus. In most uf thtse p laces, (he overt criticism is of content; but content and treatment go together, and much of the fun i., at the expense of styl istic manneri sms. All these passages- indeed, almos t all Plato's parodies relate to what iscalled 'cpidcictic' or;ttory. T hi,;'1 an important but amb iguous tcrlll .26 It is sometimes used (0 denote all or atory designed to provid. cit., 4'0- " . Su~h amhivalcnc~ and iron)" could ",ell havc hem ramili"r 10 Plalo', original reade,,; ,,'e rna)" "<>mparc hi. "<>n'cmpurary Alcidarna, ' written attack 0" written ""ml""ilio" ( Radermacher, AS , 3S ff. ) ,. On ,!o i, ~mbiguily,...., M~nalld e< Rheto<, cd. I) . A . Ru .. dl and K G. Wil><>n ( '!)S' ), [>. xx .
,8
Criticism in Antiquity
powers, no! for any practical
pll~;
but sometimes abo-~
by Aristotle-e xclus ively for the oratory of prai5c and blame, d esigned as it is 10 'display' the good or bad qualiti es afits subject. The first definition , the wider of the two, is the commoner and the more useful as a historical description; the second, probably th e earlier, has a dearer logkal character. In any case, this kind of work was a development of th e sophistic period. Its imJXlrtance for our theme lies in the fact that it is in some wa)"l a half_way hou$C betweo:n oratory and JX'Ctry. Its most obvious functions, praise and blame, werc the traditional
sp heres of the poet, which the orator now claimed to take over. Its subjects were naturally taken from a wider range than th ose of forensic or deliberative oratory. Gorgias and his pupils Polycrates and 1socrates used mythical an d fanciful thcmes. To show how Helen or PalameIIigni()~ ) was also large; encomia ofSah, Fever and Ikath were written primarily to display ingenuity and give the pleasure of paradox." All such speccht"S are meant to have a pennanen!. not just an ephemeral, value. H ence they had to possess the a ccu racy of written ~ty l e, >0 that the di~tant or fU1ure reader could not mistake the writer's meaning. And finally, many speeches a re in Aristotle's sen"" 'mimetic'. bt:<:ause they may deal with imaginary situations and imply the construction of a plot. This is true partkularly of dedamat ions. which. though not 'epideictie' in the striCter sense, arc works intended for exercise and amusement rather than for real usc. There are thus many I"easons fUI" I"cgarding 'epideictie' o ratory as of special interesl. We have seen how consideration of the conditions of declamation led ' pseudn-Oionysius' losome SOrt of general literary theory; we ~ hall ""e later how other lat e rhetoricians embraced history, philosophy and allwrtsofprose writing under the head of the 'epideictie' or, as they somctimes called it, the 'panegyric' kind." "Sc<: A. S. P~""'" 'Thing> with .. u, hUmlur" CP 2t ( '926) 27- 42. "&c H c""og~n ... De it.;, 3iI9. 7 Rat.e ; t.etow, Chapter X.
Narralit'e: ir9m Ihe Beginnings 10 AriJ/olle
'9
7 Plalo did nOI lea ch rhe lorie or r"'gard it as a proper subject o f study, His great cst pupil paid it gn :at anemion. Aristo tle not only collected and studied carliu rhetori cal lu hnai, but himself wrote a Rhetoric wh ieh had an en ormous inAuenee on all subsequent work.20 In its time, it was a high ly original hook, as we ca n see by comparing it with the onl y extant luht/iofthe older Iradilion, Ihe RIte/on'(Q Qd A/aat/drum, whose surviva l is do ubtless due to its bei ng attrihnt",d to Aristo tl e him selfinslead of to his co ntemllOrary, Aoaxime nes of La mpsac us, whom the re is g()(J(] ground to consider its author. T he hasis o r thi s boo k, as o f carly ledmai in general, is Ih e hrea kdowll of speec hes illln their co nstituclll 'parlS'- proocmiull\, na rrative, argument and confirm a tio n, epi logue-and th e prov isio n of appropriate precepts for each of these. Th is is a procedure which Plato ridi c uled in the Phaedrus, and which Aristo tl e clearl y thought unimpo rtant. The ir object ion to il was sound and of wide application: knowkd ge of parts was only 'Ihe preliminary to the art ' (10. pro liJ lubis), fo r Ihe an itself lay in knowing how to pUI the pieces together to form a coherent whok. Th is was as true of tragedy as of o ratory; and the rea lisa tiun uf it is no duubt the reason why Arislolk in Ih<: P",Ii<S shows SO link inlt:rcsl in Ihe analogous 'q uantitative' division of tragedy into prolog lle, <: pioodes, choral parts ;lI1d am/9S.JIJ At any ra,,:, I,,; o rga nised hi~ Own Rh£/..,r;con a difrere nt plan. Box,k I dt:ah fi rst with the kinds of argu mr nt "s~d in pcrsua~iv" spea king, and the diffe rence between these and the arguments valid in dialectic- i. e, logical forms a p propriate to philosophy and scie ncc. Jt then proceeds to d L'Scri be the three main types uf ora \ory-d clibcrati",:, fore nsic and epidcietic- and the topics appropriatl'l y handkd Iw Nch _ Hook II is (OtH:erncd mai nly with a psychological study of th e emo tio ns a nd cha rac ters of th e spea ker's a ud ico(e; it i~ n<:ct'SSitry, "ri_l lm le hold .., fo r thc 10 A c",,,"c,, ie,,, an.ly,i, of the RIvMU in K•• med)'. A" of I'",,,,uu,,., H2_ ' '4j'",lie, .~. " 'he." th"", par" arc di>0
x,.
Criticism ill Allliquiry
3"
spca ku 10 und erstand how and why ~ople feel certain emotions, and what the obj e<:: ts o f these emo tions are. Particularly important arc anger, pity and fear. Books I and n thus roughly fulfil the requirement for a 'scientifi c' rhe to ric, ou tlined by Pla to in the PhatdruJ, II and an: firmly based on the ethic< of the Academy. Book m is about diction and arrangement; and il is the section on diction which is m uch the most sign ifica nt part o f th e whole wor k from th e point of view of criticism in gencral. 32 Aristo tle gives an 3COO Unt orthe development of prose style, and his views on what is good and what is bad be<:ome apparent. Detailed cri ticism is con centrated mos tly on cpidcic ti c oratory, on Gorgias, lsocrates and Alddamas. The great forensic and political orators-Lysias, b aeus, Demosthenes- are less p rominent. Though the earlier pari a t least of De most henes' career must ha ve bun known to Aristotle wh"n th e RlulOr;c was COml>06ed, he alludes to him only once ..!3 Politically, they were on opposi ng sid es, And it seems to be late r- with th e second -gene ration I'cripatctic Humippus -that the story of Demos the nes' havi ng been a pupil of Plato be<:omcs cu rrent;,\oI and later still, perhaps not till the first cen tu ry B, C " that he comes to be regarded as ' the ora tor' par txctlltnct ,
The genera l plan of Aristotle's Rhtlorie beca me in fact the paHern for mos t latu handbook$. To its basic themes of in,-entio n, arrangemen t and slyle were add ed delivery (hupotrim ), which Aristo tl e had mentioned, and th e pscudoscience of mncmonics,ll A system which began in a p h ilosophical school, and in conscious opposition 10 the p ractice of rlu/ortS, thus came to d ominate th e rhetorical educa tion of all later antiquity, The sha rp oppositio n be tween the Academy JI 27' -~
(..1 /£ 7g-80),
., ALC ' 34 If. ... 140 7' .1_ .. Plu'~rOUd, lrid~n '976, ' 3~- Tha, Dcmoo,hen", I~arntd from A ri'tOlI~ is a n ab$u,-d ;,y rightly ",fu,td b)' (}j'my.iu. of llalicama ..", in his L..:"~r Ammaeu._ M The h~.ic luI> for ,hi, a , e Ad Il"",~i.", 3 -~1I-4o, Cice", lh ",.1".. ~ . 35,,-60, and par" of Quinlili.n 11.'_ Stt II . Blu m, Di. •• liA, M ...... I"..... il (Spudaomala '5) ; and, fo, Ihe I.,c, dc,-elopmenl!, Francco A . Yalco, TAl A " oif .\f"''''~ ( '!j66),
'0
.Narratiu : from tnr Btgilmillg5 to Ari5M/'
3'
and the schools of Gorgias and isocrates, wllich had charac. terised fourth.century educational debate in Athens, was later muc h modified; in the end, AristOtle', successors <ecm to ha"e om:red a type of training in general argumenta tion and invcntion not so very different from that of lsocrates himself.
The I'o,t,cs- appan::ntly earlier than the Rhetoric in its present form - had no such spectacular fortunt: in ancient timt:S. It did not come into its own till the Renai ssance ; indeed, Greek and Roman critics fairly consistently Il,isu nderstood or neglected many of its essl·ntial d oct rine!!. This short, uniq ue and vc ry diffi c ult hook touc hes on many topics. It hegins with the general theor~' of poetry as a ~pcdes of mim etic a rt , and develops some of the (ons~"luenccs of this. We arc made to sec how the grow th of poetry from 'nalUral' demands of human nalUre may be reconstructed, how its princ ipal genres arose, and in panicular how tragedy began and d eveloped to the point where it fulfils its ' nawrt:' , A la rge pan of the book is then taken up with Aristotle's a nalysis of th e clements of tragedy, the pre-cm inellee "f plOt, the . " lIofd in'lIe but still important pans played by cha ra cter and ideas, and so o n. Chapters t9 - 27, which deal with diction , includ e a good d ea l of Whal we onding I<> prcdcccssorson the one hand, soph ists a nd grammari,,,,s: On the uthn, PIal<>. His brief, and not ye t cOllll'letdy unde"' ood, allusion 10 the tragic ";ia,', l:io;I"" b 16 rdlh.,,;, 1,.,iq., ,u,IU An',It>U, Sofia 19iO.
3'
Criticism
i~
Anliquil)'
emotional impact of tragedy was psyc hologically destructive. His aMenionll that poetry is about 'generaliti es' (Ia kalho/uu ), while history is about panicular a cts of individual people, implies a n:bultal of Plato's denial of the poetS' claim 10 possess or imparl knowledge. Plato had also proclaimed the superiority of epic, which he held 10 be less mentally disturbing than
drama; Aristotle uses aesthdic crit cria-tsp!:cially the criterio n of unity - to determint the c ase in fa\'our of trage
or
)"1'45,'6 . .. Exlremely 'r""'u tali," is L.a pe Cooper,
A~ An,k>kIia~
Tiuw.!
~fC<mUti.!
For 'M 'Tracla'us eo;.linianus·. on ,,·hich 'hio is ha>«l. ! « belo... Q,"p'~' X 5. "'i,h Appmdi~. p. 203 . ( '9U) .
,II,,,,,,,,,,,,.
.. EI~. ).it. 4.'4. On thi . ...·oolc topic, I t t W . C . Amott. PloulI<J and T"ntU r C.cc<e and Rom. Su ..." Y" ) '4 If. and Po""s .flN L;.",PHi t...lin Sn..i •• , 2 ('979). 343 If.; F. H. Sandhach, G...... 39 (,g(i7) 218 If. .. T h. moo ••..,en' anno.".<:<1 «Iilio", or Theoph .... lu.· C/w,tu/n' a..., b~ P. Sleinmc," ( ,g60--2 ) and R. G. U.. hcr (,g\io).
.Narraliu(: from Ihe Btgimtillgs tQ Aristotle
33
Aristotlc's contrihution 10 the study of literaturc. When Dio Chrysostom"l obse rved lhat kriliU and grammatiki began with Aristotle he was refnring to the dialogucs in which the philos_ opher praised Homer, and ~"'peciHlly 10 On /I.~ poets, Hsubstantial work in three boo ks, which not o nl y covered some of the same ground as the imroduetory dl;lpte~ of the Pot'l;cs, hut contained a good deal of h i~ toriral an d biographical fact and legend. Again, Ari!tolle's an li(l'.m rian st udies wnc extremely impon am:"l they ineluded records of victories at festiva ls, didtllkaliai in which the names of archons, poets, plays and chi ef aClors Wl'1'e carefully registered. No one hefore Aristotle had allempted such documelllation in ~nything relating to Ii terary history. His resea rchl'S hecame t he basis of the official inscribed records that the t\th enians erected in th is period, and inspired similar records in later lime. In th is field , e,-en more than in poctie~ and rhetoric. he opened up the way for Alex. andrian and l~ter scholars. Di rect influence is less cenain. Demetrius of Phaleron, a pupi l of Aristotle and su bseq uently governor of Athens under i\-Iacedoni an rule Irom 317 to 307, lil'ed in exile at A lexa nd ria, and was concaned with Ptolemy I's foundation of the lI.-lous.:ion;4J but what sL holarly mClhods and approaches he, or anyone else, brought from the Lyceum to the new celHre of learning in Egypt, mmt remain mailer lur conjectu re.
" Oral;"" 36 .1 . "Pfeiffer , 11;,10..,. i . 79-114: 1I,';"w" 66 If. •, F ra",., PI.I,,,,.;' .~I(~."J';a,
l'icka.-d.C.mbrid~~,
31 ~
If.
Drd,"a,i< FtSli",/,
oj
CHAPTER THReE
Narrative: the Hellenistic Age from Aristotle to Horace , ARISTOTL E believed that tragedy can atlain its proper effect simply by being read.' T his is entirely consistent with his view of the predominance of plot over the other elements of a play. It is also, like his preferen<:;e for .... ritlen o\"er ~ I)Oken oratory/ cha ractcristic of h is age. I n the H ellenist ie. age, a generat ion or t ....o ancr Aristotle, the ualance between speech and writ ing seems vnydi ffcrelll from what il wa.< in Ihe fifth or early fourth CCnlury. It is perhaps no gr(,:aI exaggeration to say that people Slopped thinking of writing as simply the record 01" speech or song, and ocgan ra lhcr to think of speech as a mode of per. formancc, an actualisation of a writt en composi ti on alread y existing in its own right and waiting for the performer. A pair uf examples may help to point the comTast. In thesixlh eemury, the ]">Of:t Th(':Ognis promiM:d his heloved Cy n lllS an immurtality which consisted of innumerable repeli lions of his !-Ong «I dinner through linure ages.' On the other hand, the i",mOrlal. it)" of the H ellen istic poet, according \0 Horace , f(:S\S on poems that dese rve 'prcscrving .... ith cedar..<)il and keeping safc in I Pottu, '4 ~' 18, ' 453' 4, '46~' I~ . , Il/vt. ,;( '4 ' 3' 3· ' T hfflgni. ~37 ff. ( Al.e 3) ,
.Na"ali~: Ih~
HrllmiJlic Ago/ram AriSWllo/a lIarace
35
smoolh cypress'" The singer di es, th e book p rese rvCl; : '$ tilJ are Ihy pleasant \'oi ces, thy Nightingales, awake.' s It seems na tural that this way ofl<X}ki ng al the written word should gi ve new life to non-
s.."".,
( ,!j66). , Me,"ono' , /{)"'. to Ho~ cou ld Ix a " ,"a rn ' ped one", E. D iehl, tI"l~ log;4 L),i(8 (;'0"0 3.3 ' J f. ; C. M . IInwn in ] RS ' 9~ 7. 2 , If. Bu, .he pn<'m may Ix o f im perial d ale. and il> .on. wo uld ... i, Ihe second (cn luri A.O.: "'" M . I.. Wa l, A)-U~, : G'u(hi;d,~, 0. ' B)~."lj"i"",,: R.'olj K
Critirum ill Antiquity
with allusive learning and civilised wit, were essentially new. I t was natural that they should proclaim this, and adapt to fresh purposes the traditional statements of poetic intent that they found in Hesiod a nd Pindar. Callimachus was the greatest of th ese men. His immense scholarly activity of classifying and authenticating texts extended over the whole range of literature, oratory as well as poetry. It is interesting that the greatest oflater connoiloSeun of rhetorical style, D ionysiu! of Halicarnassus, judged him incompete nt in Ihis ficld.~ He was not a follower of Arislotl e, but rather an opponent. He wrote 'against' th e Peripatetic Praxiphane:s. '0 a work in which he also praised the didactic poetry of Aralus' Phatncmtlltl. H e was in facl clearly opposed 10 much thaI Aristotle had advocated. Unity and size (mtglllun) were not, for him, q ualitie:s of literary significance; variety and perfec ti un uf fin ish wne more imponant. The ideal cam e ncar to the portrait of E uripides' qualilies that had been given by Aristophane:s. Callimaehus' main programmatic statements were seminal not only in Grc£k literature bUI even mOTe in Roman. The image of the 'river of As.~yria' bearing filth on its water, cont rasted with the undefikd !Tickle of the holy spring, passed into the language of criticism." ' Longinus' uses il in reverse to reject the whole ideal ofperfeetionisl delicacy: it is not the little spring we admire, however userul its drinking water, hut the mighty Rhine a nd Danube and the still mightier O(ean. 11 Other potent images appear in the prologue of Callimaehus' Ai/;aY It is th e gods' business to thunder! not th e poe!"s. Apollo' s advice is to keep th e poem 'slim' - fatness is OIl! right for sacrificial animals, bUI not a desirable quality in poetry. It is the untrodden path, not the highway, which the poe!"s c hariot must travel. A touchstone oftasle in H ellenislic times seems to have been {Iwsc bird, of {h~ Musa "').., Lobou. in ,·ain by trying '0 ero ..· down (he Bam of Chi".." • See CaU;machm fro « 6- 7 Pfeiffer. ,. C O. Brink CQ. 40 (' 9.\6), I ' -<>6. " Hy"," ~ ·''''5 If. (AI'I"'"dix . p. 'flo): n . 1'<01"''';u, 3.3 (..-i,h M. E. H uhbard. l'rop
a Q>oumain. and
lik~",i",
Nana/it'! : Ihe Hr/lmiJ/it Age f rom .'Iris/oil! /Q Horact
37
th e late classical (fifih_eentury) e pic poet Antimac hus of Co!ophon, who wrote both lo\'c poetry and an epic Tlubaid. He had appa renlly been a favourite of Pla to, p<:rhaps bl:cause of his high moral tone ; later he was judged severe and chaste (ausliros, Jophron ) by admirers, turgid and o bscure by opponents." These incl nded the CaHimaehean , and , later, their Roman imitators. Am ong those whu eo ncc rn ed th cmse lvell with Amimachu s was Agatharchid es of Cnidos, a his torian a nd critic who nuurished in the fir.sl half of the second cenlu ry a nd is of considc rabk interes t in the histo ry of taslc.' ! Agatharchid es wro te a syn opsis (rpilfJ11ul of Antimac hus' Ly dt, whi ch was a n elegiac poem in several Ix:>oks, co nt aining appa rent ly a series uf roma nt ic and myt hological stories. So pres umabl}' he admired this. He also made a severe aHack o n th e oralOr a nd historian Hegesias of Magnesia,16 who was la ter muc h allacked by dassids ing crit iC'! lik e Dionysin.< (a mi even ' l .onginu5'), Ihongh he had himself daimed 10 bt an imita to r or th e simples l of the Allie o rato rs, Lysias. The bnrdtll of Agatharc hides' a llack is in fact very like thaI of these later writers : H eg~'S ias' co mm ents on th e sack of The bes are said 10 be frivol ous ;lnd nnreal , thOSt: of Stratoclcs a nd De mosthc ncs dig nifi ed , serious and far wo rthi er of the occasion. [I loo ks as if a ccrtain strain in rn etori ..... 1 cri ticism witn whi ch 'Longi nu s' and D;on ys;u, mak,' us fami lia r in fac t goes back m uch ea rlie r. Hut we ha rdl y know enuug h a bout Aga tha rd, id,;s tu mak e a cohe rent picture of his allit udes and their rela tion 10 thost; of his contcm po ra ries. H ellenistic poe try, ho weve r, has ~ noth cr <;ha ractc ristic importa ll1 fo r our th eme, in addilio n to its cmphasis on craft~m an ~ h i [l a nd on th e avoida nce of the wel l-t rod den way. The poss ibilit y of some kind of vernacula r poel ry wa s alive in the fo unh ccntury, for th e gap betwee n Ihe la ng uage or New Comt-d y and " II. I\"y"" Anli",,,,hi Rdiip
~- '3 .
Pa,'i~"tart )· in'~rc>'in~ ",faenc.. a<e (;.""11,,, 9~.9, [);(}n . ~b t . C. .." . V....b. ~~. ,\ n,imadlU ' and PIa,,, : i\ . S. Rigin".. l'ldl.";<~ ('976 ), ,67"""9 - .hough
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that of ordinary s~cch does nOl1ook large. The metre of comic dialogue imposes few constraints on speec h rhythms. Not only is the iambic, as Aristotle sa)lll,11 the nearest of all metres to speech, bUl lhe variety and freedom wil h which it was used by M enander demonstrate an exceptional ability to combine
metrical regularit), with the rhythms and intonations of ordinary speech. New Comedy does n01 read as though it was meant to be dl-.:laimoo. At a somewhat lalcr period, the criti.:: Demetrius drew a distinction between the pla)lll of Philemon, whi ch were good to read, and those of Menander, which were better acted; he had in mind the frequent lack of conne<:ling conjunctions in Mellander, which, he thought , ·stimulated drama ti c delivery' .'8 Frequency of connection makes for a foolproof written style; (h e opposite for (h e bener reproduction of natural speech. M"'nandc r'~ lingu istic realism was very mu ch a temJXlrary phenomenon of fourth-century Athens. T he literary conditions of th e following period ruled out its continuanc..,. Even humorou. and satirical poe. ry was now composed in dialects based on older lile rary models and was not meanl as a reproduclion of anyone's actua l speech. The reasons for this are complex. T o the old tradition of the special language of poetry was added Ihe need for a lite rary language understood by all persons ofa certain cultu re, whatever their origin. An d the origins of JXllential readers were now very various; Gree k lilerary education was spreading rapidly through the newly Hc!lenised regions of Asia Minor, Sy ria and Egypt. The forces Ihal e ncouraged the growth of a k.oini for e\·eryday needs oflrade or administration also strengthe ned the tendency to distance poetry from verna.;ular forms of expression altoget her.
The unp hilusophical 'craftsmanlike' attilude of Callimachus, to whom no distinct literary theory can be allributt:d, ran counter 10 some important tendencies of the Hellenistic world. ~'I orc and more educated men were undergoing lraining in " POIlu; '+l9' "O~
' t·
sty/, '93 (ALC '''7 )·
NarrIJliet : Ill/ Htlltnislic Age/rom tiriJlolle II) Ill)rlU(
39
phi lO5Ophy- in Pl a to 'Hense ruh er than in lsocra tes' - a nd be· comi ng adherents of o ne o r othe r o f the g reat schools. Such adhe rem:e might - especialJy with Epicureans- in\'ol\<e a rommitm ent bot" to a ""a), of life and to grouJlS of li ke-mi nded penons. Acoordi n,l: to Ciee ro. 19 a man' s c hoice o f philO5Ophieal school e",en affect(.d his oratorical slyle. Th e Stoics were 100 much con cern ed wi th dr)' logic, Epi cu reans were (j ui te unsuila ble reading for an ora lor, Ihc Acadcmr and L)'ceum had Ihe adva nta ge ufmaking their membc~ read Plato ilnd Aristolle, write~ whose style was good to imit ate. Now th ellc philosophical sc hools- with the cxceptio n of the ea rl ier a nd more wholehearted followe rs of t: picu rus, who had brusqud~' rejccted the whole traditio nal paid/ill - concerned thelllsch'es, not onl y with log ic. eth ics a nd ph ysica l science, but wj lh the p ri nciples o f rhetoric and ])()Clics. h is th us here Ihal we h iwc 10 loo k lOr d e\'c!0 plllcllt5 in c ritiea l theory, as distinc t from mO\'cmc n tll o f tasle, in t his pe riod . The al mOSI IOtal loss of the prose litera lure of Ih e a ge- it loss di rcc:II ~' du e to a subsequent re\'olul ion in laslc, Ihe class iciz ing 1IIo\"eme11l ofl he Ii rsl cen Iur)' H.C. - ma kes the sc ilrdl h"rd ; hUI so me faclS are deilr. Our greal es t los.. is probahly tha I of the lil era ry works of Aristotle's immediate successor, Thcoplmlstus. lO H is p arI in th e transrorma lion o f t\ ristOIIe' s theory of d ie!io n illlo Ihc COIllmo n 'Ihree -style' Iheory of later .... rilers is uncertain ; but he cuti, inl y .... To tc o n thi s suhject, as hc did 0 11 Olhe r topi cs o f rheto ric and 0 11 history. Another ea rl y I'crip" ICtio:, t\ ris lOxe nus o fTa relll um . .... ml c On music, a nd co n ti nued a line of thought f.·unil iar from Pla tO a nd from Aristotle's I'olilics, according to .... hich c ha nges in musica l and lil crarr taste a rc close ly lin ked wilh I he d edi lie of moral \"a luC$ a nd $OCi,,1 ir)!;ti l Ulio n5. Somcwh a t lat er. Nco plOlcm us of Pariu m. f;ull o lls as Ihc alleged 'iOurccofli on.cc's .'l ,S (l«li(o , seems to ha \<e wrilte n a ha ndbook of poe ti cs .... h ic h IranSlllilt~-d man y of Ih e simpler a nd mo re faclual pilns of l\ riSlOllt··S tn:il l i~.· wilh an "dl1lixlurc of .. III.i" , I I11 n. .. f r~~lllr nl ",rTh"' l'h ...<w, 'nll dic. ion· wcrC<"" lI rcl« t. "Cf)' "" rri . ir. II )·. t,) A. ~b "'r r . ,, 00). St,· O. R .~~nl"'@:"" . R f: SUPI,I. Vlt . • ~~~-p; F. W, h,li. f)" ,1.;" ..,/". ·Rik khl...k·. '~ I If. On ·th.........)I~ 1"'"'''"]0··...... bel"" . Ch op •..,. IX G.
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CriliciJm in Antiquity
rhetorical dO(!rine about invention and style. " Bul in the lat~ Hellenistic period, the school evidently declined. Some of the antiquarian and biographical work which is a sso<:ia u!d wilh it is of a low level. gossipy and credulous: Salyrus' Lif~ of Euripidrs, a dialogue in which Eu ripides ' charac ler and acliviti~ are for the most part inferred from passag~~ in [he plays, is a revealing example of low-grade popularisa\ion.'l We shou ld remember that the texts of Aristotle's esoteric worh were al any rate nOI commonly available or n:ad umillhe finn century B.C.t) However, (me of the few surviving classics of Greek criticism ~rhaps fits inlo our narrative somewhere here. The Demetrius who is the author of th e t1'f!alise 0" Ityle is certainly not Demetrius of P haleron, Aristotle's pupil, to whom it is traditionally atuibmed: it is later than the third-century poet Sotades ( 189). On the other hand, the Peripatetic co nnec tion is fairly clear: Aristotl e, Theophrastus and Praxi phanes are mentioned, and the diso;ussion of th e periodic sentence, as well as the .cheme offour ba..ie styles with the ir perversions, ,uggQ ts an indepe ndent elaboration of Aristotle and Theophrastus. Unlike Dion}'5 ius, 'Longinus' and all the late r rhetoTS, the author draws particularly heavily on fourth-centu ry writers, including some who are fairly obscure, and givQ no special place to Dcm0:5thcnes among the orators. z< The first half of the first century B. C. perhaps fits the facts best; at an y rate, the book seems independent of Dionysius, an d yet is sufficiently backward-looking or 'classicising' in tendency to contrast the 'rid icuious' lack ortaSt" in 'present-day orators' with the taste and su reness of touc h exhibitcG, for "xampl", by Plato. 2J
" Evidence and d;.cu .. ion in C. O . Brink, P,.t-IO_ •• , 9'>"" ':;<" " Ed . G. Arrigh~ni ('96. ). t·ot Sat~TU" place in 'he h;",ory of Ih~ bi~ .... ph;c:ol ..... di.;on. _ now M. R . Lclkowitz GRBS.., (1979) 1117 r " How far ' hey . hen be<:am. comlnonly kno"'n ;" , ..,)' doubtful. Know_ IMge of Ari"OIle in ,,·ri ..... "f the Roman p
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Criliri$m in AlIliquiry
vc r-sc, as in his fa muus H)'I'''' /0 ~rus, to convey philusoph i<:at tca ching, adapting the mytho logical d etail of the god wielding Ih e thund erbolt w expr ..""', alm ost without concea lm ent , the protounrl doctrine of th e universal crea live fire. [n their d es ire bolh 10 mainta in lhe tradidon of reading the old poets, 'Illd \0 u.;e poetry as a propa edcuti c for philosoph y, the Swics nalUra ll y inclined to favo ur allegorical interpretations. Man y la tcr allegoriS:ltions o f Home r, both moral and scie ntific, are o f Stoic or igin. SI rabo, in a passage o f ob viousl y Stoic colouri ng,Jl argues for the fac t ual basis o f Ho mer's geog raph y ag ainst th e astrono m e r a nd poet Erato sthe nes, who t reated POCtl"y as
'a musemen t' , and thoug ht y Oll could as soon identify th e scenes of Odysse us' wa nderi n~ a s 'find th e cobbler who stitc hed up the b ag of the wind s' , The Stoics the refore expectoo poetry to have a moral or fac tual significa nce - in Posidonius' d efi nil ionll it i nvol\'oo 'imi ta t ion of th i ngs di vine and human' , in o lher word s Ih e 3l;\ivil i(.'S of all th e rationa l beings in the un,,'cl'S<' a nd , p"c, ,,m,,hl y, rcganl cd ven ifi Ollion a nd e uph on y as means to this end, Acco rding to Ariston of Ch ios, as rep rese nted b )' I'hi lod emus, a poem mig ht be good in content , h ut had in 'l;ompositio n' (,ulllh"i5) o r viec \'CtO" , d efici ency in cill,,:r heing enough to co nd emn the whole! ' 'Il,is suggcs ts a sharp dislin<'lion o f limn a nd conte nt , like Pla lO'S dislinl;lion betwee n 'what is said ' a nd ' how it is said ' , Form would he judged by th e ear, contelll by reason. But il is no t at all certain that I his was the un; veTS.11 Stoic v iew. BOIh Ariston hi msdf and , bIer, Cra les of ;\hllos att ached g reat im porta nce 10 e upho ny. Moreovc r, Sto ic Ihrori es oflanguage emphasised th e imilative " 1" .1'"9 (ALC 300 ff.). » Diog. LtcTl. 7.60 ( ~ .'H, I::dd stci n_Kidd): 'A f><>"m (po;;"'_), a. Posi· donim 5a}" in hi. I nt roduct ion "on dictitm" (b>is ), i•• I"ateri al <)t' rll )·th",i_ cal dic tion, with oma",<»' (bid' !"", <xccroing the bou nd. '" p.-....c (/0 /~K"'id.. ) ; " rhyth mical" , . , i" ror .. ampl~, " 0 mighty earl h and heaven or Z<", " :\ ~,,;, is ~ .i~llific.llt ";;""', em",,"cing an imitation or thing> di" inc a lld human' . Th i, p" .... gc ha. wn muc h di>cu...,.!; see ~ , g , C. 0 , llri nk, l/"rI,a ". (''''Iry, ('t(!l'8fmU"" , 6;,. (The difficult;'" arc .,,,;.,"'. A. it .. and" (i) Po;idoniuo apparent l}' CJ- dit GtJirhlt, Fiilljl" H.,k, ed , C. J .n",n ( t9~3) , 3' If,
Na n-alit't: Iht Hdltn;SI;, Agt/,Qm IIriSlolit 10 Horau
43
relationship between won:h an d th e things Ihe)' were inventt"d 10 repre~nl. It would seem to follo w that, in a good poem, verh a l li>nn must he appTOl'ria\(; to eont ent , and the j udgment whether this is so is one which ca nnot he ell tirdy depend ent on the irrat iona! c ri te ria of se nse. But how far an y in dividua I Stoic thco risL\ wenl in produeing a theory of Ihis killd is quile uncertain. Qur difficu lties over thi s are bound up with the problems raised by Philodem us' book 0'1fiMlIIS, of whidl extensive frag ment s survive.:lccn a prc()("ell p3tion of sc hola rs since Ih e carll' ninctf'Ctllh ccntury. On porm;, Book v. like ",an y Epicurca n Ir(>atiscs. ro ntains a greal deal of polemic aga inst oppon ents, mos tl y IInl"ir, but (o mpuralivdy litt le pos ili",,, dor. t rin~. There a re, howe\'er, point. of grea t interes t. Ph il odemus rt>jects ;lny expectation that poetry shou ld have a mo ral or faclUal CO nle nt , 3nd any allegori sa tion des igned to produce this result. For him , it wo ul d appear, it is not possibk for a poem to be bOlh good in Ihought and bad in com position; thc two go logether. Nor call composition be judged on irra lional cri teria. In lcrpreta lion of th is IcxI ;" difficult ; we ca n perhap" only say, in very general terms. Ihal I'hilodcmu s held thil t " poem should Ix:ju dged as a whole, a nd nOI Oil I wo se p" ral Cco unts o f form a lid ,·omen! ; ,,,,d I h is mH kes a sharp contrast wil h criti c.\ of other schools. It happen s tha t I'h ilodcmus was him self a pOCI . H is urh"nc un.! humo rous epigrams arc in a notkea h ly simple slyle - certain ly if we co mpare Ihe", with th e exuberan ce of hi" fell ow G ad a rene, ""deage r - and it is lemptin g 10 sec in lh is " rcn eclion o f hi. tlK..., r)' , [I is'lII intriguin g lhoug h l th a t Vi rgil and hi s friends moved in th e circl es around I'hilodelll us, even if we cannO I possibly '" Grulx· '9:1 n. g;v<> a ,,"""""y "f II,,· ma ;" IX';""; I"" wo,k 0" PI,;t, ~ dl he regarded a, pm. ,.;,;"'",<1.
44
Criticism in Allliquiry
know what influence such instruction had. It is prudent to recall th at Horace, who sometimes called him'!Clf an Epicurean, presents in the , Irs /!rHI/ica an orthodox Peripatetic sys tem, drawing (we are told ) un that !amc Neoptolcmus of Parium whom Philodcmus treat~d as a spt:cially vulnerable and in compete n t opponent.
4 Philodemus, in es tabli shing himself in haly among R oman patrons and pupi ls, was following a tradition established for mure than a c"mury. Rome had become not only the political, hUl1hc lite rary centre of the Gree k_spea king world. We must go back to see how this had come about. The finn development of Latin poctry took plact in the laiC tbird and early second centuries, a lill!c after the time of Callimachus and his <:ontem poraries, but sti ll in the great A1c" "ndri;t" age of..:iencc an d .cholarship.•'rom the lime of E\lnius, at least, the metre and linguistic habi ts of Latin poetry were formed on Greek models, These models - Ho mer, the tragedians and the poets of New Comedy- were known and studied in the form in which Hellenistic sc holarship presented them. There was Ihns no pre-scholarly epoch in Latin literature, as there had been in Greek. Criticism went .ide by side with crea tion from the slart, and it was a scholarly criticism, in\'olving close attention to linguistic and forma l oorrectncss. Crates of Ma llus, the Stoic thoorist and grammarian, visited Rome , as an ambassador fmm K ing Attalus of Pergamum, in 1&).Jl He was forced to stay longer than he meant because he broke his leg in a drain; he lectured , it seems, to audiences who appreciated his scholarship. Crates was an allegorist - he ap_ pears to have ~en intcreSied in the allegorical interpretation oCthe Shield of ,\chi11 es as the koomoo l6-and it may be that the serious and philosophical tone of h is teaching appealed to Roman gravity. Certainly, his pupil Panactius, a generation laler, won great '''ccess and inHuen ee primaril y by hi, mnral '" Suct ,,'as a naturat , ubject for allegory : Suffit"" ' 55 If,
J,'a nali"c Iht Hdltnislic Age fro m Aristo llt to lJoraee
45
teaching. 8U1 CrdtcS will havc found grammatical and scholarl)· interests already flourishing. The f>OCts Livius and Enni us, bo th bilingudl, had interpre ted nOl only the G re.:k poetS hUl their own Latin compositions. Od,n early grammalici revi<;ed and commented on Naeviu); and Ennius the mselves. A tradition of d ose lin ks betwee n poets and schola rs was esta blished , and was always to be ~n important feature in the history of Latin liu;ra lure. AI a latr,!" period, Cawllus and the cQteriu of fashio na ble poets in th e late Rc public had elose linb with gram matici. T heir allusive and diflkuh poems dema nd ed interpre tatio n ; the poet co uld h~rd l y ma ke his way without the s..: holar. A hostile niti..: wrote of Val erius Caw- himself a pOCt - as 'the La tin Sirell, whu alun..: both reads poets an d makes them·." C inn a's Sm)·ma, a noto riOliS piece of perfectionist elaboration, was ~nnot ated by L. Crassici us, hi s I'roprmptirOiI by Aug u,lus' fr~-.;d man, th.; Palati ne Iihr~rian Hyginus. Parthcnius of Nicaea, a Greek wh o had reached Ital y as a prisoner of war in the seventies, was an influence o n the generation uf Cornelius Gallus and Virgil. ... H is colleuio n of 10ve-slOri~"S fo r the usc of poets survives : th ey arc leamed, roma ntic, somet i messcnsa t ion~l, usu~lly b~sed on locallcgcnds Of folk-tales. Also connected with Gallus-~nd incidentally with Cicero·s friend Alti<;us. whosc frc"dman II<; was - is Q . Caecilius Epiro ta, the firs t grammaticlI' to give public lecwres On Virgil..l\I An e\"e nt , perha ps, of so me signifi ca nce: it ~ h ows how scholarly c:riti<::ism operated in ma king new po<:try known and understood, and it opens the long association be twee n scholarship and the natio nal poet of imperial Rome wh ich dominated La lin J>O<"ieal niti ei,m in later periods. But th is esse nt ia ll y Alexandrian tr adi tion of scholars and po<:ts in close ,o/nits is nOt the o nly ""mifestati on of Rom an literary st udy in this period. The grc'lI polymath M. T crc ntills Varro'" had, it seems, no such links. He fo ll owed many paths of H ellenistic Ic~rning. and adap1ed Ihem 10 L~li n use , "Su~'on;", IN ~'"m""'I;NJ " . ,. g.. • . ,...... ),,1. £. H ubh"rd . P'.""I;,,:,. '0. L J . P. Bo"ch... C. C.""H., C.II",·. ("fiG). 74' w. v. Ct"u"". (.RBS S ( ,<j6~1 ,s, If. .. Su<'on;us IN l,.mmalid, ,6 . .. ENI"I,,,,, lI.rdl 9 ( ,g6o>j, "Varron· , cnn,~in; COSd)"' on ,·ar;"", ,;d.. of Varm·, act; ,·;t)". A hricfacwunt;n G ru1><:. ,60 If.
Crilicism in Antiquity
following in the footsteps of his tea cher, the first great Latin philologist, L Aelius Stilo." Stoic lin gui stic theory was applied to Latin Greek st ylistic discriminations to the classical poets of early Rom e. Varro wrote li ve\ of poets and discussed genres. He did this not only in his learned works blll in his sa tires. Though we have o nl y small fragme nts to go on, it is d ear that , like his predecessor Lu cilius a nd his successors Horace and Persius, he rega rded literary comm cnt as a na tural part of thc sa tirist's field. But whereas both Lucilius- wh o criticised the omate tra gic d ic tio n of Accius a nd perhaps in clin ed to simpler, morc Atti c tastcs'l-a nd Horace, who seems to have fo und Va rro's placid accepta nce of the old poets un crit ica l and unhelpful, took up di ltin et poi n!! of view in the litera,)' contruve rsies of th eir time, Va rro see ms outsid e them : idiosy ncra ti c, oldfashio ned , a ma n oflearning and humour, not a n adhere nt of a ny p" ny. The use of satire is sig nific,ml. Thi~ WlL! a genre in whic h the Rom a ns rightl y helieved th ey ow~cl linle clirtttl y 10 G reek models. It was the form in whi ch Horace, the poet-crit ic, chose 10 set out his authorit a tive refl ections un th e sta te of li terature and th e a pplication of theory to practice. And we can perha ps now see, in the light of the history we have ske tched , what it was th a t he inhe rit ed. On th e Greek sid e, th e background of th e AT, potlica was principall y a n Aristo teli a n legacy. This i.~ the o rigin of Ho ra ce's interes t in the history a nd develo pme nt of traged y- althuugh his th l"(),)' was nOt the sa me as Aristotle's a nd St"eIllS based on different ev id e nce a bo ut 'sa tyric' d rama. 11 is also th e o~igin of hi. trea tm e nt uf th e lo nn a! fcalUl"e\ of a pl" y, and of cha racter a nd la nguage. But he re again, as we have alread y observed , there is a diverge nce: Horace has no interes t in plo t-construc ti on, ' neccssit y and probabilit y' , suspense or surprise. There was also, of co urse, an Al exand rian clement in hi, emphasis on perfectio n in tedltliq uo:. U nliko: Va rro, Horace was not mm:h interes ted in earl y Latin litc ratu ro:, a nd tho ught its popula rit y mistaken. H e certainly learned much from the a! tit ud es OfCaIUJlu S, CaJvus and their fri ends; bu t he combined .. C;
R'."''''.liei, ~ .
., G rube 1:.9: E . H . W ann illgloll . R,..".i., of Old Loli. '" (Loeb
tragmOIl" of ]."cil;" 'I. p. ,,·i. wi, h m<:T
roo
of
)P.ana/it't: Ihr Hrl/t llislic Agt from Aris/(}Ilr /() HM(la
<17
{heir i ",isle nu:: on triOlism,lUsh ip wi I h a degr<:e of serio usnes, and co mmillllen( to publ ic moralily whit:h they ",ould have found at variance wilh Iheir whole oUl look. Th e , Irs p<Jrliw rel)rcseilts a hala nce helween Rome and Grec..:e. Calli mar.hcan perfeclionism and concern with the mor,d duty ofthc poel.
5 1I:lc,mwhile, Greek rhetoric had eSlablished itself as a part of Ro man education. though not without opposition, As late as 92 B.C., the rhetol'S were condem ned by the e<; nsor.; as cor rupters of you lh." Roman pu hli,; mcn rrefl ucm cd rl"'lorical <e hoo ls in Rhodes. A!h~ IIS "nil Asia 10 gai n skill s they wen: dcnied al home; yet h)' Ciceru's tillie, nOllong after the prohihition of92, it was possible 10 "<;q uir(> a very full rI"'lori",,[ cducalion Wil h. 0111 going a"'
,k".,ib~J
,.
.. B'oIM' :l0~- l'> . •, 5.:< helow. Chap'~c \' III 3 .
,r'"ffI :1
( '9.,;81 ;II If.. ,-"" Ir.: ,,,,d H""'"1'''''' rmmifd' 1,,,1), ) . ., U . Caplan', I"""h"di,ion;" "''' "nil' goocl in i,!)O,lf. hu, i, in man)" ,,'al" lh~ m,,,' u,.full.>t·ginn.r, book for 'h~ ,'Oldy ofallcic.n' rh,·'orie.
.. f) . l.lanh ..... J... T"ri,"."i~ " F,al!"'",r~
,8
Criticism ill Antiquity
turgid, flabhy :md thin writing (sujJIa/a, di$S(J/ula, exilisfiguTa ), Crudt" as they are, these exam ples give us a ckarer pictuft'" of what was actually in1~ndro by th.: common lcrm~ of ~ty lis ti .. des<:ription than we call otherwise o btain." Caricature gives at
any nut'" a son of undenaanding.
Cicero's later theoretical works aTe
nOl
school textbooks, but
aduh, Oflt"11 highly personal, discU'l.~ ions , and highl y wrought (if hasty ) literary compositions. Th ey are among uur main sour<:es for many rhe torical and critical themes. The earliest- De ora/oTt of 55 B.c. - is also Ihe longest and fullest. Th e key ooncept in this elaoorate dialogue is that of the 'pe rfect Orawr', educated in philosophy and the liberal arts, and the antithesis of the vulgaris ora/or of ordinary practice, whose s ucccs.~ rests on talent , dilig en ce, imitation and some knowled ge of rhetorical techniques. Cicero himself, i" his earliest great speech . Pro Ro>no AmerillO, clearly contrasts himself in this way with the hack prosecutor, Erucius. In De ora/Ofe, both in hi~ Ow" pe r5()n. and in lh~ ~pe<::chcs of C"u.• u~ and Antonius, Cicero, now at the heigh t of his own oratorical caree r, sketc hes a very personal and individual view of the whok subjN": t. EIOl"ulio occupies a good deal of Book Ill: and the treatment is broad e nough to indude a number of topics outside Ihe range of earlier handbooks - ithos and fHJthos, humour, prose-rh r lhm. The two lalcr wo rks - Brutus and Orator- show Cicero involved in a cnntmvcrsy which has wide_reaching, though un_ certain, implications." Some mid-cent ury spea kers, notably C. Licinius Calvu., the friend of Call1llus, saw the ideal of ·AlIic' oratory in the plain style ufLysias and H ypc rid es. This is a point uf view which i. associa ted with Caecilius of Cakactc, whom ·Longinus· criticises for his excessive admiration of Lysias; but it is not dear from what .uurce th e idea came to a .. Puticularl), amu,in~ M< t . 15 (frigid manner) and t.16 (trivial man_ "",,) . .. A gt><>d introduction to 'hi$ topic_. i.~ _ to th~ problems of ' A,ianism ' and · ... ttici. m' , i. R. G. "'W!tin', nOt< On Quintili.n to . lo.161f. Wilam ... wit. d ....'lic "-"05) . See also A. Dihle, "Der Beginn d", At1ilismu,,, An/iA, ond AI>t.d16.d ~3 ( , !ln 1 1 &1- 71' lind T Gd""r in En,,,'it~l if.,tll ' S (1979). 1 ![
N 6"6Ii,"'- tnt Htlltnisti( Agt jTDm A,is/Oll, to /lo,au
49
group of' Ro man o rators in th e laur, r yea rs o r the Repuhli c. \Vhat they did was consc ious ly to rejec t th e fullness ofst}'le in which Cicero's o wn main stre ngt h I"y, T his is obviously ';Qmething like the rejec tion by th e poets of th e same gClleration of the looser St n!(:lUre o f carlier writing - a nd ind.:~:d !IOmr,thing likc C"lIi",acilu£' carlier polemic """i,,£t atl Cm p'£ to rcvivc Homaic epic. Now in poetry, pole mics uf this ~ind produ ced no clear reaclion unl ess Lucrelius' deliberale choice or a rch aic. cven pre.Cieeronian tec hniqu es should be so regarded - fi)r Ih.: idell thaI I he Craflsmanship of IIO/:try sho uld be po;rk..: t commanded na lural acceptance. Once the c harge of impcrfec· tion was mad e against a panicul a r fashion. il was \'Cry difli cu h 10 answer. I ndeed. it was perha ps o nly an swera ble i" the term s in ",hirh ·l .(lnginus· answcr; ie hv obsrrving that grc;lt )l;.·nius ClI n be pardoned a lew Ilmlts a nd il i~ h.:lter to he a ge niu~ th a n a n impeccahle medi oc rity. liut o ratory wa s qu ite difrerem . It was a praclical an , and ils excelJelll:e co uld on ly be j udged by ils success. Antim achu s. the con noisse urs' poet, migh t be salisfi L-d with an audience of on~' , if (ha 10m: was I'la to: but o ra tors cannot go o n ",i(holl( a n audiC llce. 50 ~ow success ",ilh a udio e nces. C icero rca"ona bly maintains. belo ng» n<)lto tI,,: dcli r,a (c Att icists, bUI to those who had th e power 10 mo,'e a nd to command. H e tdls an old Itory to make the poine ll A mu rd er h"d been commiued in " remOte p
,·0
Criticism in A'lIi'luilj'
corrupt wilh 'Asiat ic ' or ator y, ",hkh they rep re<enled "-, Ih e
work
ofh alt~ Grt"e ks
of impure tastes an d imperftCI knowledge
ofthe language. (z ) For C icero, On the other ha nd, the Asialicum g~'lUs
is rather Ihe kind - or k ind~- of writing pra ctised by OT>UOT'l of the S(:hool~ of A sia . 11 is not nece$.la riiy a ll bad. }-' or some of these people. indeed , he has modified praise: Hierocl es a nd ~'I enccl es of Ala banda are ul Asia/ieo in gllltTllalldabiftSY (3) Now Ca [vus a nd h is friends clea rl )' d isapprov~xI of Cicero; ind eed lhey seem to have used th e le rm ' A,ialk' orhis stylc,H (4 ) IVloroo\,r,r, Dion ys ius of H aiic oul his positio n on these malters, both a ((riblUed I he bad fcal u res of H dlen isti c pros<: to •Asiat ics' and assigned the im p rovement in taste which he felt he "'as witnessing to certain leading men a mo ng the R<)rnan governing classes. We do not know who he means.: but Ihe ciTde of Calvus and the oratory of Messa na , Tibullus' patron and the transla lOT of tI yperides, nat urally come to mi nd. s.I I t is interes ti ng a Iso tha t ' Longinus'. who oppose.; C'~1eei l iu.\ " nd hi.~ id<>]" try of Lysias, appears at the same time to rehabilita te Cicero.!! T his COntroversy be tween a 'fuller' and a 'purer' ideal of oratorical sty le was relevant both to Greek and to Latin writing . In deed , thue ha. been mu ch disp ute as to whether its origins are G reek o r La tin. Hut it is, I think , importa nt to I"ememhel" that it is quite distinc t from the pecu liarly Greek phenomenon o f Ii ngu isl ic At licism . 'rhi, was the rcjection of certain features ofl he COmmOn lilua ry language oft!'e Hellenistic age in favour of a closer imilation of dassical Attic, both in vocabulary and in syntax. In Dionysius, this inclination is only beginning; il reached its full dCI'elo pmenl much later. in Ih e second ce nwry ,\.11. T hil movemen t, which aimed al th e establi shme nt of a 'pure' , timcles.~ Greek which co uld withstand change a nd devdoJ">ment, only incidentall y to uches the c hoice in taste between the 'grand ' ami th,: 'simple' , the overwhelm ing and the delicate. " B",III, :!.~.
" Qu;n,;l; " " I 'l , "'. '~. "" f ", M...,alia. iC10 Q ui",. '" .' 0." . 10-'_" 3: H.
" .,LUn . gmu, . . '"+
R...."""'"' Hot",,"I •. no. 1;6.
~lalc"va ,;,
Or.w" ..
Nanaliu(: Iltt Hd/(Ilislic tlgtfrQI/I
A riSI~II! /Q H QfaU
51
Th r corrl'C t reproduct io n of classical \'ocabulary and gr.lm, malica] usage is a nCCCS$a ry hIli not lu fl i"iem eomlil ion of lh", kind of 'correctness' an d 'purity ' demanded by ' Aui<;isl' taste. The Gree k linguisti c moveme nt, however, did han~ some Latin a nalogues later 011, in the second century .... v .. Ihoug h the La tin .;tu<,.,,, '-4 (ALC 1"9 f. ) . ,. Co.,,",,''';''', pr. '3 If
C II APTE R FOuR
Narrative: the Roman Empire , TII ~: ~tablishment
of the principate and the floweri ng of Augustan poetry mark a break in the conditions of Roman literary life. Where the re was previously only the patronage of the nobility, there is now also the magnet of a cou rt. \Vhere there was nationa l oonfusion and despair, there is a new ~nse of direction and purpose. The arril'al of D ionysius of H alicarnassus in Rome around 30 B.C. happens to coincide whh thr establ ishment of thi, new ord .. r. We may of course be exaggerating Dionysius' real importance, but the accident of time has made him the one c ritic and theorist of the age whom we can fairly say we know.' H is tastes, his friends, even the course of his literary development are not entirely hidden. He worked in Rome a t leasllill the publication of his history of early Rome, or a large pari of it, in 7 B.C. : this was the work he regarded as his chief claim to fame, his critical work being ra ther the outcome of teaching. We have already had ca u~ to draw attention to the very important programmatic preface 10 his boo k On ancim/ orators, in which he proclaimed th e restoration of a genuine 'p hilosophic' rhetoric , under the beneficent lead of distinguished Romans. This book ~ IS out to describe the qualities of the classical orators and, in particu lar, 'what should be accepted or rejected in each'; they arc studied as models for imitation. Since D ionysius promises a similar boo k on historians, it is clear that he regards these also , !\a, g~nnal
~£cou n' ;
s. F. Bonn~T. /)io.y,iMU! lIa/i<~"", ,,,,, ('939).
Nanath.,: the Roman Empi"
53
as possible modds. I n his !rea(i~" 0" imitation, a r.~irly ,>arly work, 01" whic h extensive fragments survive, he extends the range even furthe r, including poets and phi losop hers! HU( (h is does not necessarily mean that he regards h imsc1feither as advising writers ot her than orators and historians, or as thin king of oratory as itself now a schol astic act ivi ty, centred on the in_ creasingly popular practice of declamation and on the cp idcictic modr,. H r, does however ta ke a view of his tas k which mah-s it different from tha! of the ordinary rhetor. H e ta kes the basic exen:;s!:' and all the (heory of in vent iem for granted, and concelHrates vel)' heavily on stylc. He calls the subject politiki philQJophia, J a p hrase that recalls !socrates. And he is extremel y interested in problems of authemicity, de\'ising and carrying OU! sc hola rlr i nq ui ries in! o the dates and aU( ho rship of speec hes, and criticising his predecessors in this field.' Oiony.ius comes doser to modern ideas of a litCO'ary critic than any ea rlier writer. He exc els in dose observation and the
analysis of 5t ylis tic efleets. His eri lieal \'oea bulary, largely metaphorical , is extensive and mU<.:h of it unpa ralleled before h im. His peculia r gift~ a re ]""'( displayed in hi~ mQ:St origi"al, and least rhetor ical, work, On thf arrallgtmwl oj words. This is a sHidy of the kind s of word·ordcr conducive to part ic ular kinds of litnary c!T<:~t - harshncss, smoot!",es.~, or any gradation b~· (we("n. Dion ys ius rejects any att("mpt to determine word-order by gen("ral logical or gram mat ical consi derat ions, a nd bases h is d iscussion on an analogy with building: we have to cons ider how the unit s of ou r cons( fllCI ion, words, clauses and sen (cn ces, an: best fitted together to give a 'beautiful" and 'pleasing' e!Tec!. His examples include poetry as well as prose; indeed, some of his most tdling discussions are of Homer, Sappho and Simon id"". M uch of w},:1t h~ .a~~ concern. lhe sou nd. of language, and the way in which they tall be trc~led as Illusica ll y expressive. Some of his poims seem sensible: it Inakes sense to say thaI a pr("ponderance of short words makes for slowness and roughness bL"Cause of the pau. 1 (A t.C 360 Ir.) . • A.I .•'al. I'"f. ~ (AI.C 305j . • See I><:I,,\<\ Chap'er XI I, for hi, methO
.u,Io"...
C,ilicilm in IInliqu iry them. But much seems uncom'incing, even allowing for our difficulty in matching what he says with th,., phenomena h,., d05c,ribes, of which we ca n only have a ve ry imperfC<:t grasp. T hus, in his famous analysis of Horner's description of th e roc.k of Sisyphus,S hesecs dearly that the spe,.,d is changed in a lineor two from the slow tempo where Sisyphus pushes the stone up, 10 the rapid rat tling of its downwilnl ilccdcration; but his idea that the di(fereJH;C is duc largely to the g reater number of monosyllables in the first part neglocts altogether the metriCill consideration that the line beginning autisltptitalpdomk!kulindtto ... ha.~
three s ucces.~ive trochaic caesu rae. Again, the idea that 'contracted' grammatical forms arc appropriate to disparage. ment or to 'small' things generally, while 'expanded' forms a1l1p1if~' the sense, is a singularly naiv,., variant of the basic fallacy in ancient doctrines of litera ry appropriateness, namel y the de "';, ,,<1 lh;ot . loIg' I h ;"g; . h..." I<1 tx: cxprc,"",d in cO" "c"pondingly ',., " g WOTll8. Dionysius is .....~nt i alJy a teacher, and he is a good on,.,. His pupils werc lucky, and their taste was sensibl y developed. He has obvious faults: we sec much that is mechanical in his stylistic doctrine , and he works with no '-cry cunsistent thoory of the principles of lite rary judgment. Hut his moral cmphas<:s arc refreshingly subdued ; and his attent ion to detail and open ac knowledgment of the importance oflrained taste even when il cannot render a reason , are positive and all ractivc features. He is not unworthy of the age of Virgil and Horace. ~
, Some <:on nL"(:tian be twecn Dianysiu" and Gaecilius ofCale",;te i~ established by tbe forme r's reference to hi~ 'very dear" Caecilius as sharing the view that Demosthencs imitated the thuught and argumentation of Thu~ydidl:s .6 C"eciJius is also tilt" profNSNJ opponeut of ' Lon gin lls'. But the da le of On lulilimil)' remains U!l("ertai,,: !b",~ is nothing in the practice of , /J, ",,,,,,.,i/i.,,, '~'I><>'~m 20 (.1/£ :135 )• Cae~il i u. fr. l;,!:l Ofentoch.
• Ad Pomp".'" 3_20 _
.\imalil'r : Iht Roman f:mpi"
55
anc, em polemic to pn;d u(it;" sha rp am",k o n an amhor some ccnw ri<.:S old, and ,h<.: lrad i,io nal a1\rilm(ioll to th.; Ihirdcentury Long inus. Ih e pupil of Plolinus and chief ll1in i~tcr of Qu<.:cn Zenobia a t Pa lmyra, Gltlnut be ruk.:1 o ut o n (hesc groltllds alone.' T he beSI reason for fltling it o m , a nd assc ning (ha t the ,,·ork l..clongs (as is gene rally he ld ) 10 Ihe firSl cent ury A.I.> . and not the third , is rather Ihe 'lamem fo r frentom· in (he dos ing c hal't (;r, " 'hi eh has ,",~ry mueh th e a ir of cenain fir:slC('"n( u '·y specu la l ions 011 th c mora I alld lil crary consc'] uenc(;s o r repla c.ing repu hlica n hy mo na rc hi cal goyr, rn m<':lIt. T he Wlt/ lIIllliis opillio that it is a wo rk of the first century, somewhere bClweCIl the age of Dioll)"sius and tha; of Plin y and T acitus, remai ns I he mo,t reasonahle view. Para lids wi, h 1'lill).3 arc indeed partku[arly dos.~: yet then; is really nothing in the l)O()k wh ich necessita tes a da lc [,It tor than the first dccades of dIe Chris tian era . I, ike ])ionysius, the autho r presupposes a ge nera l competem;e ill rlu:toric, and audrt:>scs hi rTlsdf 10 (he problems of the ora lO,. who wrilcs for 1)()llcril y. Like Diony, ius agaill, hc d ra ws eXlcnsi'·cly on r oe try fo r hi s illustralions. :'\'Iore<),·cr, he tOO is concerned wi th a ROllla n a ltd ien,·e: Ii ke C;'ccil i us - and un like I he more modest r[u tarc h" he is pr!'pared 10 discu!\.1 th O' mcrilS of C ko;ro. T[ w work is lcrta ill[}, po km ic;a[: C"eci [i us 'ld In ired , exees-lin;l)" in ' Lo ng inu l· · ,jew, the pure Atti c ,·i rlues of Lp ias: ;'( lh e same lil11" he despised Plato, whom Ollr illllhor adlll ires grca t [)'. Th is opposit ion to a \'kw of] ilerar), excel[ence which ·Longinus· regards not as a "ahd aherna(iYe to hi s own bill as a COl11pletelv fal se trail, leading to some thi ng 1)()l h lechnieally and morally inferior. is SCI out in the form o f a SCI o f .uk." for producing a certain lo ne of writing, IWpS9S or ·suh[imit r". T hi.; lOne is nOt thought of as cntirdy "omtitutcu br ,'crhal fca t ures. It itl\·oh'cs al"" choier of su hj<:c\ ami espec iall y a high Iel'eI of emo tion. T he polemic against Caecilius wneen Irates on his bilurr '0 di,<cuss emOlion in Ihis cOIllH:o ion al all; hut · Longinu~' doc~ nOI himsdf ~uccced in giving a dear a,,_ c.... unt of til{" ,.dalion ....r .'motion (0 olh er l~Clors in good wril ing. , A r~cc", .dl"<>C~'c "r •• Io;,,(.ec,,' ur)' cl.'c ;, G. \\" . \\" ;t!;"",". Ch.Rt, 40' /)",/,., ('978). [ 7 ~ .';, t,u, h,· ad.-""",,, no n.,,,· ">"gu mo", . • [SI'C"r;at!~ 11";.10 f:pis/ 92G (Ate 429) .
•
f),,,,,,,,~nv'
:1.
Criticism ill tllItiquilj His liking for Plato in fact leads him to try to embrace under the one head ofhups(J$ both an emotionally intense rhetoric, like that of DClllosthenC1!, and a more ornau~ and diffuse kind, repPl a to which the school of Dionysius resented by those pans most disliked - the elaborate imagery characteristic of Laws and TimatUJ. I t is in keeping with hi s admiration for Plato that ' Longinu.' adopts a strong ly moral stance: only 'greaUlt"5S of mind' can ensu re 'greatneM' in wrhing. 'Longinus' alludes to othe r books he has wrinen, not nOw extant: one on Xenophon, two on the arrangement of words. to To judge from the book we have, th ese must be acco unted a great loss; no othcr Greek critic has anything like this unknown author's freshness, cmhusiasm and vigo rous expression.
or
3 Hut we must return to the historically securer ground of Aug,,~(all R ome, wilh ils hlJ~y and varied li U<:Iry tile. Thl': poets continued, as in Hellenistic and Republican timC1!, to write about them.-..:h-es and their art. Th ey procla imed their inspiration and special gifts - d reams, vision s, mt"e ti ngs with the Mus<:, withdrawal into solita ry plaet-s, They modestly asserted the Callilllachean principles that conveniently forbade them to ancmpt ep ic; how far their professed reluctance for this task is evidence for pressure from above 10 undertake it, and how far their stylised refusals (TttUJalilll!tf) arc Illerely an claborau: I,)flll of Hattery ~ uitabl e to the mat!!rial of the pastoral, lyric or ekgiac poet, arc deba table questions. From our present point of view, it is sufficient to say ,hat they were asserting, as was Callimachns, Ihat thcre was va lid J.>OI",ic valne (0 be found in styk-s and gcnm; which did nO! aim a( traditional forms of grandeur, but unfail ingly at perfect io n of technique. Perhaps Horace's ' Pindarodc' should be singlcd out: l1 in show· ing the inillli table qualit ies of I'indar s art, he reviews the whole range of h is writing, giving a son of catalogue of thc types o f Pi ndaric poem; metaphors traditiona l in th is comext- ,h, 1. 44 ,,, ab" a11110U11~'" a "'para,. ,",ork 011 '. motion<'. a sequel (appa.· colly ) 10 s"Mimiry. II OJ" .(.0 . AI'P",,,lix. 1'. '!I·' .
Xarral;1'f: Iht Romall Empirt
great "iver, thc honey_galhC"ing bee - a rc skilfully deployed; and ",h ile it is diff,,,,,1 t lU recunS l run the,i t ua t iOll presu p poocd by Ihe poem, it is at rate d e,.r Ihat ils ma in fun d iun is th a t of defend; ng Ho race ' s choke of the form of persona I lyric, and iL, adaptation to publ i!; themt:'> . In Horace'$ Salirts and t;pisJ{u, and ",p.'cially .Iw Ars /lOtlifO. sollwlhin.c: lIt orc th,,,, dcfl:ncc i, allcmpu:d: Ho rae.c 'wes himse lf as a le"t k r oftastc. guid in g Rome aw"y from undw: rcspect for hcr o1tl literat u re , and establishing a literary ideal which combi nes lechnical perfection wit h a commit men! to an accep ta b le-but by no means conve nti onal - moral ~tance. Horace is uniquely a rticulate a mong a nCiel1( poe ts in s t a lin~ the pri'l("iplcs of hi., life'. work ; his oft.:n mi.~ udger! mastnpicce, Ih", A,s, i. no \'.:rsi lied treat ise, bu t an urbanc, and characlcri'licalh' unda.ta ted, confc!;sion of faith. T he princcps and h is friends were intima ..;l), con nected with the litcra ry world. Politics and leiters wcre (he common inter_ eSIS of Ihe men who governed - as Ihey h"d heen in Cicero', time. T he cynical mighl say tltalli terature was a n ex tension of poli ties. What we know of Augustus' own lite ra ry tastes suggests that Ihey were con venient ly in Ihc middl.: of thc road: AttlQtty'S 'Asiani.lt\l' was 'madn.,;SS', the arrh"io; tendcncle'l of Pollio 0 " T il:>erius no less to be despised . Yet Ivl accena~, "'ho had \'l:ry dilfnent {alleS, remaim:d a fri.:nd . Ca(Q~ib(l ('misgu i<J.:d ness' ) i$ a kr,y It:rm. Augustu. con traSts c(1co,-~li with (lnliquarii" !l.i3 cr.cnas is {h" Hry typc of {he (Il(o~d~> , with his affected voca hulary ,md weird word_ord er; so it was doubly pointed whe n Agrippa (if indeed it was he) aHacked Maeeena.' pro{"ge, Virg il, as ' inventor of a new '(1(o~ilia ' - not an obvious pe rversion of the gra nd Or lhe simple strk, 1mt " suhtle cvil, till; st r"im;rI usc of o rdinary words , hard ly no{iccd hy thc ""rclc'!s readerY T hc te rm i" lik.: all words of abusc , ill-defmed: h ut its moral ovc rt on.;s can t.c clearly heard.
''''I'
" Suetuni". A"g"'I~' 86 ; un " ...~iljQ in general. ><, II. D. J<><el)'n, PaJlt" W I•• Umf'/>'>lu.l,. St",in~' ii ('979), 67- ' 42: IV. Gorler in Em"li,., If.,dl 2~ ( t179)' '76-2)) "Donatu,' I'ila V"Ct/jj H (Appendix. p . •88 ).
Criticism in Antiquiry
4 w~
saw thill Cicero, espec ially in the Bru/us, wrote about public men anti link ed th ei r oratorical perfo rma nce with th eir whole personality in a way which see ms characteristicall y RQman . In the ne~ t generation, the relationship Oct ween ora tori<;011 skill and t he active lifeof a ffail'S t...,cam e les$ dircrt a nd Illore compll:x . This was partly th e ~su lt ofth.. political changes. Despit e Augu stus' pf"<)fessions. the re was no lo nger a rts pub/ita as Cicero understood the lerm. It was muc h h."!S useful to have rhetorical skill s to deploy in the pUl'Suit of politiCHI influence. So. inst ead of the portraits of advoca tc_ politi,;ians which we find in Ihe Bru/us, we have the rcwrds of Ihe declaimers stt d own in the elder Seneca's collectio n of am/rOtfUilll and mIlJorill€. These were nOt , in general, people of grea t public standin g, though some were successfu l in the co urts , and some, like Ovid. were figures of not e in the lilerary lilt orlhe pe riod. The ir fame was due to their skill in th e im agi"ary legal plead. ings a ll d political cou nscllings which wer~ the co mmon advanced exercises of a rhetorica l edu,:ation. T hough th ese exerci.\~s had a lready a lo ng history, it was in th e secoml half of the lirst u;ntury II.C. that th ey Occame, as it a ppea rs, a major intellectual intercst of all ed ucated public. In the sh rewd, gossi py criticism of the eldl:r Se neca. we ha ve the entree into th is world. If we arc to believe him , it was only accident that prevented him from coming from ('Alrd uoa to Rome in t im~ to hear Cicero, in the laSt rea r of hi s life, 'declaim' w;lh the consul;;. of -13 D.C., H irti us and Pansa. But he hea rd man y others, rememOcred it all vividly, a nd reco rd ed it lor the oc ll efi t of hi~ di ~t ;ngui shed sons- o ne a prov incial govenor, anot her the fa the r of the poe t Lucan, a third the greallilerary and politica l genius of the Neronian age. T h rough them and their contem poraries th e traditions of th e d eclaimers can he see n influ encing the whole courst: o flirst-cent ury lit era ture. I n what ways, and ho w profoundly, arc mailers of deLmte. Such ex'~r _ cises naturall y encouraged c~rtai n qua lities at the ~xpen>e of oth ers: verba l point, memora ble 5tn/tIIliat, elcga nt dcscript ions a nd character indicatillll~ . ingenio us interpretations of situations which had been de\'ised for their paradoxical poten tial i.
.Narrali,-e: Iht Roma" Empirt
59
ties. T he whole thing was a game plared wit houttheeomtra;n ts of real life, and so without the need fo r any serious judgment of argument Or personalities. Its unrealit y was ofte n castigated, no tably in Petronius' S"9·ri(0". ,. Its influence is undoubtedly to bt· secn in much Latin historical wri ting of Ihc Empire, and proba bly in Greek as well. But therc is no clear connection, as is often sugg,;sted, hctween this form ofexcrcisc and the spccial leature;; of 'silver' Latin prose ,tyle: IXlCtic vocabulary, cxccssive l.'Qrialio, short rather t han long scntell ccs. 1f t he spread o r poetic vocabulary into prose ha s any 'h~lo,ical origin, it is to he sough I rathcr in the pracI ice of cnwmiu m, thc~is and ccphrasis, all of whid, ~came Slandard preliminary excrcises. VurialiQin syntax, on the other hand, has its roots in Hellenisticand Roman cndcavOllrs to find a hernalivcs 10 Ihe period ic m,lI1 ner imposed by isocrat t."S and Cicero, which d':lllandcd greal control and precision, and cOllld ne,'cr he qlli te safe from the risk of dullneu. In ,IllY ca.'l(; , declamation survil'ed its lirst-century critics; lalcr examples, especially the Grcck ones, ;Irc often more digni ficd and !;Oher, more acceptable perhaps to tcac her a"u parent. And il had , it would seem, some im p<)rtance for literary thcOl"}'. It was a form that rC<:fuired a certain degree "fimagination, a certain se nse o f char
5 Se neca, 'the philosoplll:r". in o ne o f hi , [eller", provides what Eduard Norden rt'gardcd as th e most important tOlllcml)()rary docume n t on the hi.,tory or La tin prose in Ihe first cen!lIry.16 I t is not dircctcu against the declaimers : perhaps he could not he quil e as faloe as Ihat 10 his father's passion. He takes up a positioll which is both /\ ugusta" allu philoso[lh ical. Lik e Augustu;;, he sees the archaists and the innovalors as ali ke "I'clro,,'u. '-4 (AI.C 36, ) ; ct: Q"i", . (Af.e ~ 5~) .
"Abo"" Ch.pler I 4. ,. t"pi,l. "4 (AI.C 36~ tf) ; K Norden,
'.'0
A"I'~<
(AU: 37' ) :
T"". 1);41.
K"",If""'", 308.
35
Ghticism in Anliqui!J 'corrupters' of natural speech; like Pla to, he view~ style as a reA~..,tion of moral character-talif oralio qualif vila. His prime example is Maecenas, whose affected composition and involved image ry arc supposed \0 mirror his effeminate manners and disregard for the decencies of public life. From this, Seneca proceeds \0 generali~ : rejection of normality, in language as in dress, buildings and food, is a manifestation of luxuri~, that d isease of afll uence which cla.""ical moralists tended to ma ke the cause of all evil. This 'luxury' is a .social phenomenon, which can affect no! on ly individuals but whole generations. It takes various forms: common to th em all is the search for novelty. Archaic patina, poetic colouring, absolute cunventionality are all false aims. But a d istinction must Ix: drawn Ix: l w~n the initiator ora fashion, whose innovation is due to his desire to Ix: conspicuous, and Ihe followers, whose foibles a re signs of the style orthe age , and not of thcirown moral weakness. There arc thus historical observations in Seneca's accou nt - he illustrat~"5 h i' point from Sail,,", and hi. imitators- bu t the burden or th e argument is mora l ; indeed the whole literary content of the letter serves as a prelude to the sermon on cupidity with which it concludes. The life of letters is of interest primarily as an analogy to the moral life. Seneca, with his epigrammatic amI often hyperbolical style, himself owes a great deal to the declaimers. H is plea for sim_ plicity, like his m illionaire's plea for a simple life, is often taken for hypocrisy. This is unfair. H is profession of writing as a philosopher, with more thought for content than for words, is valid up to a point; he makes no more attempt to avoid the manners of his upbringing and his circle {han he does to exploit and develop them. Antitheses and rhythmical clausulae are things it would cost him an effort to a\·oid. H e does not make the effort. Quintilian, howe"er, regarded Se!H~ea'l inAucnce on the young in {he same way as Seneca himsdfregarded the initiators of vicious fashions. The lost Dr c~usis corruplllttloqutnliiU perhaps we nt into this further ; we can stil! read the eloquent at!ack in whic h Quintilian's review of useful authOf1j1l is made to culminate. Quintiliall reaclS against Scneca'~ earCIcSlSllCSS, and " Quinlilian to . t (A.Le:J80 ff.). See below, Chaplu V [[ I 4.
6.
,Narratillt: lilt Roman Empirt
against the sta ccato qualit), of his style. It is something alien to the classidsing, Ciceronia n mann er which he himself advocnted; for, thoug h by no means a stric t arc haist or any thing like an 't\ tticist', he looks bac kwards 10 the dignity, a bundance a nd correctness of Cicero as the classical mod el for the Roman oral or. In lhe course of making his poi m , he reviews lhe whole of Greek nnd I.~·llin litera ture, in so fa r as il is useful for imita_ lio n ; heavily dependem on D ionysius for lhe Gree k, he slrikes OUl on hi s ow n in Lalin . H is neat and somelimes , uggeslive cha racterisalio ns a re often of inte rest; one or lWO more c"le nded critiques- especiall y those of H omcr and " 'lenanderillustra te clearl y how rh eto rical wa ys of thinking were used in the eva lual ion of the poet<, Quintilian's ideal was 10 some e"lent realised in his pupils, Plin y's POlltg)"ricus demonstrates how a modern ised Cict.ronianism co uld be lhe vehi cle of an enco mium wunh y not onl y of the empe ror's di gn it y bUl orlhe collS ul who speaks it. Pliny also had " theore ti cal intcrest, revealed in one Or IwO lener., notnhl y in hi s n:ply to the frien d who [(mnd bult with so me " f his bolder metaphors. 'AT he defence rests on the exa mple of De mosthe nes. T here a re very ~t rik i!\g parallels with 'Lo nginus', both in Ihe general th oory- 'to he faultless is itself a f.1ult'-and in the instances chosen to e"emplify it. A rommoll so urce is likcly, a nd the cl ose link hetween Gree k an d La tin litenor), taste in all tj,is period is clearly and agreeahly illustrated.
6 Quin til ian and Plin y wen: 'classicists', not in necessarily prefer ring eve rythin g old to everything new, but in believi ng in a certain dig nil y and purity of laSte, to he found in the o ld rna stri ctures on Seneca- sniou"ly engaged in a quert/lt des andens tI des molitmes. W e see th is rather in a nother wo rk of the la te first (or early second ) century, Tacitus' D;alogus lit malor;hS.1Q Th is elegant a nd channing book - argua bly sUI:>crior in "9~6 (,II'(;1~9 ) ' I. Ed. A. G udenl'" ( ,fIg~), \\" . 1'<1<1"S<J1I (,fig:!). So<:
al", A. D.
R.,i., 3'" If. , C. D. "' . o..ta in 7"",.;, rd . T. A. '9-14 ,"d ~'p. R. Symc, Tanio, ii, 67" If.
O,al"~';
I)or~y
Luman
(1969),
6, vivacity and interest lOany Latin dialogue we possess, induding
Ciccro's- rcports two debates, supposed to have taken place
or
among a group of friends in A.D. 73, a quaru:r a century or more before the probable dale o f writing. One debate o pposes the poet '$ \"o<;,,(i oll to the urator's. The mh"'r contrasts modern oratory with olde r forms. The lWO are connected. Maternus, Ihe orator who chose \0 turn poet, is also the closing speaker in the se.::o nd debate, advancing the view that oratory is unnece5Iia ry in a wclI-<,rdered state; eloquence is 'the nurseling of licence and Ihe companion of sedi tion ', and when th e slalC is perfectly health y, it wiil cease to exis!. The perspectives of the dialogue are social and educational, rather than stylistic, es· pecially in Ihe more conservative speech of Messalla (241f. ). It is the ' modern is!' Aper who comes nearest to genu ine criticism; he givcs a hostile review of the Roman 'Attkists', though he qualifies it by some discerning admiration of parIS of the work of Calvus and Caelius (2 ' ). It has been held that r-,'Iaternus represents Tacim, Own view., Ihe di:oJogue i•• aid to be an apology for turning to history, on the ground Ihal free eloquence is now no longer possible. This is unlikely. T acitus bad a distinguishcd public career, and th e writing of history, to the Roman way ofthinkillg, was a proper activity for the statesman, not an escape from the world.
7 It is not until the generation after Pliny and T acitus that we find strong arehaising fashions in La tin prose. This was the age ofGellius, Fronto::O and Apuleius. All o fthcsc studied and admired pre-classical literature; Fronto admired Cato and Enniu" and thought Cicero not scrupulouseuough in his (.hoke of wonis. This move ment is a utiu reAeeliou of contemporary Gruk 'Anicism·. Greek literature had become even more 'purified' and imitative since th e lime of Dionysius, and Greek critic ism, in the first and second centuries .... 0., was largely directed towards the analysis of classica l texts with a vi",w to imitation. CrammalicNs and filt/or collaoorated in presenting a "' I..,eman. op. cit ., 366 If. Note .. p . .1J JI . C., ..."", 4.3.' - ; Apl"""di • . p. '89'-
(~Xl""C'
in
Nurru/ia: tht RomuN Empirt
dose st udy of \I,e diction, figures and argument of the great exemplars- in panicul~r Horner and Dcmos thelles, So, while Lalin criticism was involvcd in di~cussions of contcmporary Ir('tlds, ils C reek equivalent was much more scho lasti c and historical. Its perspeclives were governed by Ihe prev~iling COnCepl ofmimisiI. II is Ihus vcry conservalive. For exampl e, Dio Chry:,;ostom's analysi.~ of Ihe Phili.KltllI plays or the three tragcdi;olls is a piece of highly con\'r, nlional wri ling, wilh hardl y an idea that could nOI hal'e COIllC from Arislophanes. l ' Again, Plutarch's ,mack on Ihe 'malice' of Herodotul l l is pure! y sdlOla.tic - unless il ohliq ucl r hints a I ,illl ila r 'Illalke' in the sensational innuendos of wrilers like T acitu s. Both here, and in hi.1 prd<:n:nce for 1\.'l cna"d c r ol'cr Arislophanes, 1'1,,· larch la kes a Illoral stand. T hi s is characteristic of him; it appears even more clearly in his ingen ious educational advice on ' how young peoplc should read poetry' wilhout doing themselves mor,,1 ha n n. n Yet Pima reh was a II apprecia live and well-read st mien t of all d~s.. ical literature. T he '!;OphiSlS' of the next few gencnllions, though loud in mutual reproach, ollcr littk Ii)]" our th,;me save parlisan a\lac ks on cll(Q~;lill. The defence of "rhetot·i(-· against 'philosophy', so I"plumin"u\ly c() ndu<;t~"(ll>y Aristides, is ha.\cd on no critical pri nciplcs. The criticisms ,)1' pe\"S(JnaJiti,:<; a nd SI )'Ic, which a re to be found in Philostra IUS' L,u of lite SQphiIlsl' fall far shO rl Of lhe elder Seneca in vigour and int er~( . Perhaps the mOSl import"n t II<, it> ArC .'i:H If.: If~"'. by L, f',·."",,, (l "o'b1. I" r,·., cri,ical If'" b) ]" ,\ . Ha"." "" IlIm>l."d.", '~i~\. lJ ,\ I ~n.nder ,n" .'\ri,,,,ph~n,~: .It,,,"Ii. 8V\~ If. 1..1 I.e .'i't, f \. On " ·,,din,. p
Criticism in tinliqu i!), the pertect ion o f Demos thenes and pres<:nt in varying degrees in uthe r les.\ balanced and ve ....... tile writt,rs. Tht, application of rh etorkal theories ofinH:ntion to the critidsm ofpoctkal texts also yi elds inte rL"$ting material: th e auth ors of th e pse udoDion ys ian treatises Onjigured Jptu/z($ givc a viv id illustratio n of a certain style of Homeric stud>"2C> But, whether th e point at iSll ue i~ one of style or of argument, the rhetorical criti c. of thi s period , true to their kind, arc criti as of means and of d etail , not of ends and of overall impression, It is dillicuh to find in them any ki nd ofliterary theory, cven any great diversity of tast<:, It is a mista ke to eleva te technica l differences into divergences of critical direc tion, as u~ed at one time to be done with the comparativd>' well_documented t,ontroversy between Apollodorus and Theodor us in th e lime of Augustus, T hL'Odorus, it waS sometimes said, was a son of proto-Romantic, in revoh againSt the rigorous form al ism rep rese nted by his oppone n ts. T hi s was quite fa lse; ApollOC\oru~' vi ew tha t ev,",ry spe,",ch had to have a fi ,«"d OTt .... of ."na[ogy and ,\nomo[y, ill juri'prudenu bt,,,"ccn ··S.bini.ni·· and "Proculiani"' ,
6, th e shadow of Ihe clas..lical education of the English ninc\ccmh cI'Il\ury_
That Ihel«; Jau;r ages produ<:crl a hody of criticallheory which went l>eyond the tacit presupposili,)ns of rhewrs anti gram. mar;;lIls was due \0 the Tn";"al of philosophical in\Cn:'S1 in questions of literature and aest hetics. We S;lW that not on ly I'l alO a nd AriSlo dc, bUI the Hellenistic schools ,,1<0, held
theories of the nature and function of poetry. We have also had
occas ion to notice the links bel wcc" rhetoric and philosophy fi)rgcd h I' the rI,,;IOT$' adop1 ion oft!'c gcnnalilusif <15 "" exC[cise for begin n ers _ This introdu ce
e thical and even scient ific argu ment. [n Ih e period we are now cOn.
but thtre werc distinguished examples of people who combined hoth ca reas. Plutarch is one: his own talents were pt;rhaps less suited to the strai ns of sophist ic exh ihitions than he would have liked, bu t he e\'idel\ tly n:ganls rhdorital skills a~ appropriate to the young, 10 be SCI as ide inl;"vour of philosophy in graver ycars.'~ Dio Chrysostom is dearly both philosopher and rhetorical vi rtuoso. Seneca himself exemplifies this all-round culture , reacting ag"in~t his father, it would sr,cm, by a flight illlo philosophy.Z<> Apulcius comhined sophistic "ntl ph;Josoph ic;,1 writing qu ite happily: " Iaximus ofTyrc hlentl~-d the two in his pretelllious DialtMis. Hut the new development in Ihe third and fourth cent uries is th e "ppe;u" nce of academic pe"sons who were fully professional on bod) fronts. Longinus, that 'Ii vi ng library and walking Museum','" was a pupil of the great philosopher Plo(inus. Porphyry and Syrianus, famous Neoplatonist philosopher<;, also wrote commelllaries on standard rhetorical lextbooksPorphy ry on his (ead".: r :\linucianus, Syrianus on M inucianus' mOre influenti"l rival Hermogenes. l1 These philosophe .... arc ,. .II.,alia il.'>i"" " .' p"ak,·r h,,, ·"i",..-I "I' hi, ,-Io"'''rK- "rt~r a lon~ in " ..,·,1. to p!ca.,. 'he I.d, and join iTO thdr ' I'ringtime· . .. Epi,,_ ,08. 2~' 16Iio.J 11.1,·;.", 1;.3- 4. ,. So Lunapiu. Jj,'''- of '''' ",.i/",o"I1"" 1'. 3~2 II-right ( _ 456 lIoi»o,,~de).
M.,.
(;....
" Suda • •_v _ Mi"ucia-n ",; J- Ride>. I'j, J, Po,ployrt, 30. 7' " Syria"", Hcrmogon"" IN ibi" <...t. H. lI.al .. ( ,89' )-
{>1)
Cnlicum in
Anliq~ i!y
thus fully oonversan! ",;th the latcst development!; in rh~toric, that ;s to say with all the refinementS of slas!i, and ideai. Their tech ni<J u~ o r writing co m "'entaries on rhetorical te"tt:.ooks resembl es their common philosophical acti vity of commenting at immense length on the basic textsof l'lato and Ar;stotle. Althe .ame time, they were concerned to interpre t Plato's attacks on rhetoric and on poetry, and , so far as they co uld , to justify bo th th eir philosophical and their literary culture. Plato's o"'n dialogues also presented a literary problem; and it seems to have been in connection with this that the namre of the 'unity in diversity' which a literary work should possess was formuhued and dis(uss~-d a"ew. n Finally, the Ncopl"tonisLI, a t least from the time of Porphy ry onward" loo k..-d wilh awe on ccrta in mysterious poetical lC"li, the theological poem~ of 'Orpheus' and the Chaldaean Orades, and regarded these as o!1cring evidence for the truth of lh eir religious a nd metaphysical views. This Illay in part have bccn " rcsrx>nse to lhe .ucces. of the Hebrew and Christi:m scriptures, ,,1..., m)"~(criou' storehouses of hidden meanings ; in any case, it had the elfect of concemrati ng attention o nce again on the pri,u.;iples of allcgory and on th~ problems of J><Xtic troth. This is the background 10 the mosl remarkahl e work of literary thoory which W~ possC"ss from the later ages of the ancien! worl d : Proclus' commentary (or rather cssay5) on Republir II, HI. an d x. Prod us. the f(reat sy"tenlat iser of the school, was a pupil of Syrian us. whose views he largely reproduces, though adding mu ch of hi s own. His system is based nn N e'1tliL ( _1&;»",_ ."".10 6, ). 1<111< •. F. W.l.dorfl"_ Di, onlili," V,";!, iibn- P/81o", $Iii ( '~ 7 l . <"
Narralivt.- Ihe Rlfman Empitt
whi ch it opera les wi lh imaginat iOn and irrational sematio n and is lilk-d with inferio r realiti e~ . T o these corres pond three types of poetry : the inspired , the did actic and the imagina tive. These were known not o nl y to Plato, but to Ho rne r, who symbolises th em by th e figures of Demodocu s, Phernius and Th a myris..u
9 Proclus' elaborate theories of a ll ego ry look forwa rd to the 1\1 iddle Ages. A III bitious allegory was a leature ofla te a mi ia nic pnJpl..:cy is the he~t_known in_ stan ce of thi s latter dcvelopmt: n!. ""' BUI Christian attitud es to li tera ture must rem ain oUll> ide our prt:sellt scope. All egory existed in th e Ht: brcw as well a., tht: H ell enic traditions on whi ch Ch ri~ tian c ulture was ground ~-d . Media eval allegory a ud sy mbolism has thu s 110 si mpl e origin in pagan a ntiq uit y. Pagan literature e xciled in the pious men of the earl y Chu rch the same so rt of mixture of j oy an d hor ror Ihat they, like us, could detecI in I'l a to. Aug ustin e's confess io n of the ma gic of" Vi rgil is an a niculat c ex Ilression of what man y mu.n h,, \"e fel t. Jj On the other hand , th e s<;ripture~ the m,;e,,"es we re disconcertin gly ba rbarous: their ho mel y and conc rete imagery "lid t he ulldass i ~al k en ur~"S of the tr'mslat ions hoth in Greek a nd in Latin, seemed 10 prod uce co nntiess bread ,es of the simples t rul es of decorum . I\ug uslin<: was among those who fa<.:ed lhis problem al so. The Christian writer. he held, was "Compt,·, .. "~ ", t,, ; ,) ,, (Fr«" ' h) "f I'I"(.d~,· C" m"'< "' ~0' b)' A . J. F"' ltlgih< ( , 910) ; partial F.ngli.h Hnion in l'T~mingCT. ~ [0 ff. Sec below, Appen
"C.ift"iMU ', ' 3 . " 0" .. a n
''''0. IwO a nd ''''0 ma k.. rOUT" "''''
, hal~ful inc"n'., i" n ' " m~ . ,,·hit .. ,h. mos' rl.ligh, r"t .p<W,de (Of "a ni,)' "'~. ""·"",1 .. ,, h" "" I"tt ufarmw me
ere",,, he....,tf:
Criticum in Antiquity
68
always dealing with themes of the highest value, because the Christian message permeated all things in life. Th ere wall thus no hie rarchy of themes, such as class ical rhetorica l a nd poetica l thcory always demanded. But
lh~re
was a
r~ng"
or purJl'O""":
teaching , admonishing and arousing emotion were all things the preacher had \0 do, and they naturally required a range of styl!:!!." The greatest literature of late antiquity was Christian: Jerome and Augustin e have no pagan rivals in Latin, the Cappadocian fath"rs ha,-c much more 10 convey in their elabo rate rhetoric than their mast er Libanius ever had. Th e literary
auitudes and theories of the Christians are a fascinating and far-reaching theme; they owe mu ch to their pagan environme nt , but add mu ch also of their uwn.
Sl Augos(ine Dt
,h.,,,;.,,,,
iv is an imp,malO! l.x, : • • !rae," in Iran, lalion in Ik nso n and f'mu" r .• 73 If. Sec E. Auerbach , l ....l~.X' . . . , 2S If. )0
Li'''.'J
Cll,\Pl'ER f IVE
The Poet and his Inspiration , Or the main topics of dis,;uss ion which can be seen running through this long and confusing hi story, I isolate first a group of themes rdating to th e poet and the na ture of what he does. There i, no douht lhat poeLS in antiquity often spoke of themselvcs as inspired or pos<;cssea by a superior power, or that they often claimed (or <)th crs da im,:d for th em ) the fun c tions and pri\'ilege~ of the teach cr. In this and the following chapter. r examine the forms the_e two set' "fclaims took, and the pro blems to which they gav" rise.
It seems to be the expericnce ofpocts in mallY soc tet ies that composition is something not altogether under the control of the conscious mind. It appears (0 be ~uddcll , unanticipated and automatic . T he proces~ is exciting, and it lea\'es behind as evidence of its reality a sort of 'apport' (if we may use the language o f p"ychical researc h), a produt:t Or poiemu wh ich may even se("n no \'el and unfamil iar 10 th~ poe l hinw:lf. H is thoughts 'wash ova him like a flood' or 'bubble up.. from Ihe pil ortlte slornach'.' Much the ~am" ma y II(: s'lid ofolhcr ans, and p"rhaps of high levels of imag inative activily in spheres o utside the arLl allogelhn. But therr, is something spec ial aboul the poel: he is, b y tradition and in virtue of hi s , Th"", d",cril' ,iom ("()m~ ( ~ ) from 'he E, ki",o O'p"ngdix quo,ed b," C..\1. Ilo"n, s".g. 44; (b) from A .•:. Hou,ma n", tecture on 'he .:"
''t,,,,,,i,,
7"
Criticism in Anliquiry
skill in words, articulate about these thingll in a wa y that
painten; and musicians are no\; and he is often thought of as a kin to the prophet who claims \0 communicate God's message to Man. This inexplicable and mysterious element in poetical composition finds different o::xplana tions in different ages an d circumstances. \Vh en religious belief is strong, it is of (ou= regarded as a gift of the gods, vouc hsafed 10 a man of special merit, or as compensation for a defect like blindness, sometimes momentary, sometimes the se tded tal ent of a life time. When belief i. queslionl..! by ratiu"al speculation, the disillusioned and Ihe sct'p lit:al, wh" nu longer helic\"e in prophecy or direct divine intervention, naturally seck what th ey regard as more plausible explanations. Th ey find them in psyc hology or physiology- lor example, in an excess of hot black bile- and they treat the claims of th e poets with irony and ridicul e. I t is ea sy, after all, to mak e fun ofa nution of insp iration which , as H obl:>eo ob.crv~"indar; it was reinterpreted , and g ive n new religious content, by the Neoplatonists a millennium later. Th e second, more rationalistic, tendency prevailed in the timeoflhe Greek en lightenment and in the heyday of Augus tan urbani!)"; the humour with which Pl a to treats the rhapsoclt, Ion and lil(: sati rica l treatme nt of Democritus in Horacc's A rs arc characteristic evidences of it. l
3 Th e history uf these ideas l>egins with th e programmatic stateme nts of tlte ea rly poets. Th e Odyssey is especially explicit. 'A god'. or InO...' specificall)' 'tho:- " ·I usc'. gives Demodocus the powrr 10 delight wilh song. and yet also blinds him. Phemius is aUloJidaklDS, 'se lf-taugh". and a !!;od has 'implanted' Itn'phuSl ) , I.... ALe 39 If.; .-i rs ' 95 If. (AU: oH7 ).
Th, f WI wid his Im/lira lioll
7'
""my war' arsong in his ",ind.' Th ese descriptions denote a pc rrn,menl gift; Ph emius and Demodocus a rc profess ional banls. ill whum the poe t, nO dou ht , c n, ate~" fi e tion,,1 modcll<)r hirmdf. wi th the hono ur ann rf"ward b"rds ought w have. T o j udge from Ih e co mpliment Od ysse us pays Dem odocus on the " ccuracy of his aecounl o flhe war of T roy, th e g irt is nOI on ly onl: of fin e word s bU I o flrU(h a nd know ledge. ' This is nOI surprising. T he poe l oflhe Ili~d a p pe"ls to the M uses' kn owledge when he in"okes Ihei r aid at Ihe begi nning of the Ca lalog ue of Ships,5 an d il is know lc.:ige of Ihe paSI and fUlure Ihal Ihe M uscs give to H cs iod whell Iher inspire him wilh song.· II is inrlecrllh c p rolog ue of Ihe Throgoll), which giVe> the moSI c.~plicil Sla1e"1<,111 in early Greek poetry of Ihe poet"s divine call . T he 1>,'luscs h01 h 'breathe so ng into' him , il1ld g athn for him - or le t him ga th e r' - (he branch or b;,),. Apollo 'ssacred Iree, 10 serve as the wand Ih;\( sy mho li scs his Gllling. ~ow I he II<Jt:I shares I his "fq ni si ti, "I ofk nowkd~e heyond I he ordinary re,u:h of llIen wit h the malliis o r prophills, the 'lee r o r spo kC'i man o f til(" gods. Wh en Pindar'l bids Ihe Mu se 'proph,:sy ' ("'(min/fO ). ;lIla says Iha l 11<: will l... hn (imp/llllaS. hI' is 110t simply making a COllLpariso n hetwe<; n twO modt'S of Ihe rela _ lio nship or man wilh the didne. H e is sa ying Ih at th"y are lea ll y the mml,; 'i nspiralio ll' gives knowledge 10 poe l a nd prop hel al ike. The emphasis in these carl y t<::~I.' see ms in fael 10 be on kllOw!cdgr" Iha l is 10.lay on conlenl ralh n Ihan 0 11 rorm , iflhis lalc r di Sli nction may be imported . T hi s is nO I 10 say Ihal be aul y o f la nguage, mus ical skill
8.6.j.
~' . 31~
• OJ,,,,, 8.4/1S n.
If. (For 'hox and
P""~~"".'ec
ALe 1 f.).
, II: ·, . ~H4 n·.·
• TNol ••.J ~ r If. (ALe ·J ). , The point depend. on 'he reading in 11: d"P,d,4i 'h"';ng g.. ,ho,.,r , or d"p'di/hoi ' (for him ) to Ra'h~r· .
• Fr. '37 Bow,:. (ALe 4). • Prof. H . U o)-d .Jonn points out ,,, me ,10., !"",.Homeric epic also;s ;n general mOre f~c'u~1 ,h~n lIomer. "'" tha t 'he rd a ti"e ·non.fae,ualil y" of
7'
Criticism in ATlliquity
Th ere is thus a COlltras! between these f>O':tica ] statements and Ihe earliest theoretical discus$ion of these mallers that we possess, namely two passages of Dcrnocritus lO which later wrilers regarded as of special importance. One oftbes.. passages reads: T he tbi ng5 a poet writes, on Ihe One hand (mm), wilh mtlwus;a,mos ,,"d holy spiri t ("itTO~ "".uma ) are all very ht:autiful (kala ).
The other appears to be from a co"text dealing wilh Homer's language: Homer, h",·ing OCt" aHolled a na(ure related to lhe divine (pJiusis th,tU.8UJa), fashioned (tlfk/ilm/o) an adornment (kosmos) of expressions of all ~ind s . [n later times, i( was supposed that the first of these passages meant (hat successfu l poems were only compos~"
i. perhap" an original dc,·clopmcn'. ',he "/"<141•• •pil,n'llmo [ Longin . 6] or the epic tradition .' ,. r Co IB and ~ I (ALe 4. L~na,,, ,.~8 If.). W , K . C. Gu,hrie, Ili,,,,'7 ojG,«t I'''ilo,.",., ii, 477 n.,. Date un,'crta in; Dcmo;' >aid to have hcd '0 be 'wer a huoor«l. ' II D, Q10J." ~. I94 ~ th;, illlcrprctatioll i. eVell less cautiously cxprCl!«! in Dt JitmaJID", ' ,flo - 'no po
The Pw l alld his Impiralioli
73
presumably said that wha t is not tbus inspired is nO! 'beauti ful'. T he point is, what is deno ted by kala? I II itsel l~ the wo rd migh t apply w any kind ...fhca u ly <>t. go<>d!H:,s who<e va lu c was "elf· evide nt and not conditional on conscqU Cll<;eS or ut ility. It see ms unlikely that it sho uld apply exclusivcly to cOnl ent ; in· deed it is doubtful whet her De mocr illlS, any more than any o th el' serious thin ker sin ce Xenophanes, could have regarded th e mythical and 1110 ral eOll! ell! of the trad itiona l poems as kala. M uch mo re li kely ther~fore tha I I"" is thinking primarily, if no t excl usively, of heaut)" of form a nd la ng ua ge. T lw seco nd fragme nt , desp ite its obscurities, appears to su p· port thi.\ view. It seems to sta te thilt Homer possesses a perman· e nt endowment of na ture (phu:;is), which bears somc unspecified relationship to th c di vine. We havc no clear Cl'idence lo r th e me,m ing of '''tIJ<.ousa; we do nOt know, for ins ta nce, whether it is merely a hi gh comp liment , and poss ibly ironical a t that, as the cognat e /heioJ ("di l'ine' ) so often is, o r sig ni fies a naturc peculiarly re,:cp ti"e o f atomic emuc n ce~ from the gods. Nor c,,,, wc say for ce rta in whcther Ho rner's j)Qsst:ss ing suc.h a na turc is the cause orh;s fashio ning his kosmos of words. If there were not this gramm ati cal ambiguity, the point would be clear: gra nd lan.c:uagc. radlt'f tlmn the Ifluh ofwh" l i, \" i.-l. would 11" s"o:n 10 br ,,~sur("(l by thl' ' ~i\"{"n' l'lcTTlc1ll in Hom ..... S m~ kc-up. Si nn : w(" ~annot he sure, we muSt a ls" ker. p open the possihility that there is here no thing but twO d ist inct sta temen ts, o ne all egi ng H ()m er'~ div;ue nature, the othc r sta ting th"t }«; <:ont ri"ed by his skill the kos"IQS of words, the tWO together amounting to a d escription of ",hat makes him a grea t poet. Th is would amou nt to the commo n la tcr id ea that the union of phuJis ~nd lu ""i, ars " nd i"gt" ium , is what produces perfection. Ye t in this (:a.\C also there w,wld bc emphasis on HOll1 cr's naftsma mhip : he is a u k/on , li ke a bltilder or carpentcr, whose art comists in putting things toge ther int o Hn urdered a nd beaut ifn I Stru Cl ur~. T he difficulti es of interpreting Democritus, Otl the ev idence we have, a n: in,upera ble. But th ere is nne sugge'ti\"<: point to be added . T he o nly later thinke rs to d iscard the dichotomy o f form and conten t, I,x;s and {tgQmt1lml, which is taken fo r pan tcd a I leaSt from PIa 10 onwards, were ct: rt ain Epi<:urt:an s.' l " Sa ah",·c. Chap'cr III 3. on Phitodcmu •.
Crilidsm ill Antiquity
74
Th ese werc in a sense Dcrnocritus' disciples. Perhaps lIis understanding of poetry also "'
4 Plaw' s 10"" is sometimes supposed \0 owe some ideas 10 Demo. c.ril us. It is 'Ill carly d ialogue, ofa pattern common in I'la1 0's ~hortcr Socratic pieces. SOCT;\\e>; is sh own, cha ract eristically, as exploding a fa lse claim to knowledge. Here it is the claim of the rhapsodc ur profOlSion al reciter of Hume r, who is shown 10 dcpe nd for his 'art' on 'divine d ispensa tion', Ih~i(l moira. Ifwe an: lookin g for reason and understanding, Ihis is nothing 10 be proud o[ Though it is the reciter who is tormally on (rial, the main poitHS 1hal are made a rc true alsooft he poe t, whu is linked with the rhapsode by the sa me 'mag netic chain' that link~ h im also with his inspiring gOod. It wOould seem that , at t hi~ period, there still hung round the rhapsOodc somcthing Oof,he charac, ... of the efca tin: poet, at least the po tentiality of original compo'lition. He is certainly a dift"crelll sort of pnson, bot h in capacity and in status, from the tifth-century tragic actor who merel y rehcan;cd the part he has learned, the poet uting the teacher (didaskalos) of the pcrfonnel1. T hoogh ironical in ton e, th e Ion makes imlJOrta!1l points. A striki ng cOomparison is made between lyric poets and Corybantic or llio nys iac dancers." Socrates hne illust rates poetical insp iration by comparing it with" well-known uu t disco nce rting religious phenomenon, that of orgiast ic groups, dancing and experienci ng hallu cinations or co nversions when ' possessed '. He asserts the emire d e_ IlCn de nce, not only of lyric poets, whose music makes an Oobvious point Oof cont a ct with the dancers, but of th e e pic poet too, on the displa cement of the normal mind b y an invading god: compo'" till god is in him and his wits Out , a nd his mind nO longer in him. A pot:t is
~
liglll tili ng, willged and holy, and
~anl10t
T h" kind of inspirat ion wh ich Socrates describes in this " ALI..' 19 II: ~ \';ca;re 11- 5: fl . "
S~4A .
FI~,har,
D" Diolo, ]o~. IIedin ('956).
TIlt POtl and his Inspiralion passage is clearly something which comes unpredictably from without a nd dOlOS nOt produce any skill ..... hich can be generally a p plied or ta ug ht to othe rs _ The poet, in thi s arg ument , is a highl y specialised creature, ca pable of creativity only in one genre, perhaps capahlc of producing only om: good poem in a lifetime, 'like Tynni ch us of Chal<:is' ..... ith hi, one lovely paean _ T hi, makLOS poe tical cr<:ativity " trivial in<:id<:m of th e man's life, ho ..... e\·e r bcautifu[ and enduring the />Oiema it [eaves behind . In th e Phatdrus, Plato returned to the theme of poetir irra tio nalit y, but in a difrerem COnlext and in a hall~ h umorou s, half-serious manner whi ch is even more d ifficult to assess. T he lOne of the l'hatdrus is detached , amused, non commilla[ and provocative; it ranges over man y su bjccts- love, rhet oric, immo rta!it y - and Ix;wi[d cn; by its all u s i ven~ss
(,Ir.,d,. ,·, 4.~" ~ (AI.e 7~,) <"m l>b ,10",
Criticism in
A n/iq~i!r
a very forced argumem. Wha t comes next also should be taken in the same spirit, as a rhetori cal ]Xlint supporting the paradoxical main proposition, not as something necessarily in accordance with accepted vi"ws or with any conviction Plato might himsdf defend in a serious moment. The inspired poet stands 10 the mere technician as the inspired prophel sland~ 10 the mere augur. But Ihe passage seems to say t..... o things more. On the one hand , Ihe mind th e Muse invades is 'tender and untrodden '. The poet is innocem and ignorant ; he is not necessarily young (th e Gree ks did nO t thin k ofpoelr)" as par_ ticularly a young man·s occupalion ), nor necessarily virtu ous, but he is impressionable. And he 'puts in order' or 'adorns' (kosl/lol/J"a)16 the deeds of men of old and so educates (paideuti ) future generations. It is necessary for Ihe argument that this benefic ial activity sho uld be seen to be the r~ult ofmonia. It is this that has enabled the poe t to do somethi ng that improves the moral q uality oflife; th e paidtia intended must be th e hand ing down to posteri ty of Ih" exampl"" Sel by grea I men of ol d . In lat er antiquity, as we sha ll >ce, this passage was takl!t1 as a serious Defence of POI!try, linking Ihe notion of insp ira tion wit h that of a didactic purpose. But its origina l intention may be wholly ironical ; there are, as often in Pl alO, fantastic features in the argument, which seem to colour th e whol e; and th e closing words oflhe passage suggesl that the whole paradox is to be ta ken lightly: H" .... hu, .... ithuut the 1> \ uses· madness. comes to the door of jX>Clry. in the hdieflhat he will be an ad.-quate jX>Ct, jfyou please, by art alone, vanishes unfulfi lled, he and hi5 jX>Ct ry together, th., sane man' . jX>Ctrr a t the hands of Ihe mad man ·s.
In fact, it is dear that Pl ato had no wi.h, in th is or any other context , to p rese nt a defence of poetry. He believed it to offer no road to knowledge; and he entcrtilins th e idea thilt the poet'S activity involves an uncotllrolJed element, akin 10 ecsta.y or insani ty, simply because it sui ts the general position h e has taken up. Aristotle was di fferent. H e held p<">C11)· 10 be a snio us thing, I. T he range co,·em b)· b",,", and «tated ,,·ord, indlldeo both ·orde" and
·ornament'.
Th~
1'0l1 and his f,Hpiraliou
))
a road to understanding as ",dl as to plcasure, in virtue both of its mimetic ..:hara..:u;r and of its gen<.:rJlity, Mo rcover, his sciemific inte rests, which were fundamemal to his whole in_ tellectual approach, Jay in medicin e and biology and not, like Plato's, in mathematics. And his allit ud e 10 religion and my th was more detached. Plato fought a battle for the mind, in which irony iwd exaggeratiozl were weapons. Aristo tle sa w the beliefs and practices of the vulgar either as merely silly or as objects of scienti fic curiosity. Only onCe in th~ PIN/in is there any allmion to the po::>SSibili ty Ihat Ihe poet may be "mad'. The passage i ~ l;unous, and al!>O puzzling." AriSIOtk i~ giving advi.:e to the pla yw right who i! al Ihe stage of eo mJ".>08 ing his plol. In doi ng th is, the wri l\:r has 10 im agine the action on Ihe stage : he needs to do this carefully, o r disaster Tllay 101l0w- as it did for Carcinus, when he failed to see Ihat the audience would I:J.c aware of Amphiaraus Icaving the temple. He needs also, apparenl ly, to th ink out the appropriate ges tures and movements (sdlimala ). Genui ne emotion, whet her distress or a nger, is also the mOSI convincing. Given IWO (X·ople of Ihe same natural taknt, the one who actually r~"£ls ,mgl"l", or SOme other cmotion, will "Iso "pllt it across' hene r to others. This idea - originally e mphasised, it wou ld seem. hy teachers of rhdoric-is here "pplied 10 Ih e relalio n betwcen the poel ,,,,J the characters who.e Il(t ions and emotions he representS. [fhe pUIS him sdfint o the emOlional , (;lte appropriate 10 Ih(:rn. he will he "bl~ U) give (I,,: rn th~ right word s and movements. The passage (as mO"; l oflen tra nslatcd) contm ues: T his is .... hy poetry belongs to the naturally talented (.uphui.) Or the manic (maniAo.); for One of these is malleable (tuplas/OJ ). the other Out ofl ,; , "';" ,! (,j'J/al;{·6' ) .
Th is rendering impliC!; that AriSlOtlc accepted the insa ne and unconU"olled as o ne of twO ~5ihle poetical le mperaments. This is an unwelcome (ond u.l ion. I'l alO, as .n· havc seen, used Ihis n.)tion only 10 underline Ihe inadequacy of the poetS, and A ris(otle is cone.Cen ed to make I heir defence. ".-1oreove r. ml1ni/;oJ alld tks/a/i!;os imply tOlal lack ofrnental control. This is nOt al " '45.," 27 It:
Criticum in
)'
Anliq~iry
all what the tragic poelllceds. H e has In en ter inl0 Ihe per$Ona lil Y of his c haracters, and their circ umstances, ea ch in {Urn, as he wril C$ th e pan. Thi~ is something dependen t nO doubt on much natural ability, and it cannot be learned ; bUI il is also dependell l on control and vena lil;!y. E~phuis and tuplas/6$ an: rig ht descrip tions of what is needed, manikl)s and tkslalikor are not. We should r,ondude th at those critics who th ink - li ke Ih e sixteemh-century Castclvclro- thal Ari sto tle must have meant 'the naturall y lalenl",d rathtr ,iuJn the manic ' a re es~ nt ia ll y righl." A passage of the Rllttorie'· seems 10 be th e o nl y other place where Aristot le h imself entertains these ideas. Compound and extravagant word s, he says, a re appropri ate in st fOllg emOlion ; 'a n evil h eave n-high ' is an expr= ion tha I a really angry ",an may be pardoned for ma kin g. T his is Ihe sort of si mation in whic h a spea ker lrics to make hi s audience 'possessed ' (tnIlwujj(1$(1i), and g rand iose or jingling phrases come naturally to ~"'''')t'iia.:ontn
a nd
'«)
occur al so in poc.ry , Cor .hi.
'0()
i. e~I"ron,
'an inspired thin g' . Not much shou ld be ma de of lhis ; Aristotle is here using the language of'enthusiasm' in a weakened se nse. It is in a ny case odd, to modern tasle , Ih a t his example o r'enIhusiastic' language j ustifit~ by emot ion is from the end of lsocrates ' PanlgpiclI$, a work of pol ish cd prost" whic h la ler laste understan d ably ad mired for its artistry and fulln ess rat her than for fo rce Or passion. Our surprise, huw r,\"er, ma y be due to a r,1i lure of hislori ea l im aginalion: the balancl,~ and noble rhythms ofGorgian ic Ol nd isoe Talean prose may well have had a more powerful in<;a ntatory eile ci un contemporaries th an we can see. So tilT as Ihe in terpre tatiun of Aristutle i~ con cerned , the later Peripatelic tex t fo und in p ",h{tmf 30.1 is of no rele\"ance; blll it has an impowIIlee of its Own. m It lis\.'l the possessors of excess;",", a nd excessi"dy hOI 'black bile' as ' manic (manikoi), natura ll y talented (tuphutu), amo rous (t riilikoij and easily movcd to anger a nd desire ; some al so talk at ive '. Th ere is no .. Thi. "i~w i, lhal l~ krn b)' ~t i" H ubbard in .~ L(: J J 3 r. ,. 1401t 1 J ff. M P,. bl,"" 9~~' 3~ ff". Thi, l~~' ha, ,,"ud, di>
bot."
;9 reason 10 thin k that the ,nuhor is thin king particula rly of poetry; the only poet mentioned ill the t;.Hlltx! is one "-'1arakos urSyracusc "rwhom we arc wldth"l he w"s,ocl",,1\y a hell er poet 'when he ",,,SOU l of his mind' . 'I'he implication is thallhis
was u n usuill; poets arc not like prophets, who arc 'Olll of thei r mi nds' whtn I hey arc [oretelling til<; f UlUn:, hu I la JellIed persons whole c"cc<;S of black bile is normally at least in a "m can Slalc' in respec t of tempera 1U rc . A great ])()<;l , jik" " gn,,, I philosopher, is an e x';c!'l iOll,,] be; ng ; but his POWCI"S a rc not ou I orhis cont ro1.
.\ P hilowphicaJ allernpts to give all account uf tht" unc~plaincd <:ie"'/:111 ill p()I:!ic nC"ily were thus often rationalist;,"; Ilw)'
invo ked phy;iologica J o r physic,,1 theori es. But the poets of COUI'!(; conti nued, throughuut Hclleni,tic and Ro man times, to rcpeatthei r claim, 10 di,ine impiral io n. II was undcr~lood Ihal Ihis was nOw largely cun,'cnlion. T he baltic with II", philmoph<"1"s was ov
~Ia'cm u,
in Tac.itu.' Did/OK'" I t-'3lALC 438 ff.) .
80
C,;litism in Antiquity
l\·! usc to visit you , would have rung true to Virgil o r Horace. It is interesting that the symbol ism comes now to be used in the service of new literary ideals. It had already scrved a polemical purpose for Pindar, who derogates opponcms hy representing them as OH:re 'learners', who cannut prc\'ail against the 'bini of Zcus'.n For G.'tl1imachus and his Rom an imitator it Sf: rved another end. Instead of appealing \0 the god for knowledge or lor the gift of line words, Callimachus ma kes '\ pollo cou nsel him to avoid magniloquence and the common path: the gods like a fat beast for sacrifice, but a fme-spun pocrn"~
Horace i~ perhaps the most instructive of the Hellenistic and Rom an poetS in whom u> study the new u.'IeS of these symbols. He is much given \0 them. As a lyric po<: t, he dwdls far from the common herd, Nymph~ and Satyrs dance amund him in the woods. I nstead of dying , he will wing his way to heaven, transformed intu a bird. Calliope cumes duwn to visit him; he wand",.. in holy groves, and his whole life i~ unde r Ih e prOleClion of the "" lIses. l4 Yct H orace is also a literary crit ic, and on this level of discourse he treats the idea of inspiratio n with se\·ere irony, if nOt contempt. [t is he who mOSI expli cit ly intcrprcl5 Democritus as advocating ma d ness as a qualification for pocl5. When he is speakingserious[y, Horaceevidcntly regards the 'given element' in composition - whether in poetry or in rhetoric - as ingmiulII, a concept not unlike Aristotle's tupkw(j. Good poetry in his vicw comes from th e com bin ation of th is qnality-it is essentially inventivcnl~ - with a mastery of the art C ars, i. e. ltc/mi) , But while native poetic abi lit y, in H orace's crit icism, is stripped of the trappings of inspiration and seen as a faculty of the reasoning mind , its panner, art, is seen as something more than mechanical skill in words, versification or obedience to genrerules. It involves a certain degree of ethical kn owledge and certain positive mo ral a tti tudes, notably the rejec tion of greed and shortsight~d selfishness: Once this ruSt and care for cash has taintnl th" soul, Can we hope ror poems to be wri n ell that desc".." preserving in cedar oil and keeping saf" in smooth cypress?" "S<"<" t.:-tow. App<"ndh. p. 181 . " OIJ"'pi4'" ~ .88. " A" pot/;,. 330 If. (ALC ~88). "OJ" I. " ' .19: ' ,70: 1+
Tht
P~tI
{wd his
Ilispirali~1I
8,
This rationalisi nll ,,"d morHli.,ing transfo rmation of the traditional s)'mhols of ' inspiration' is not (onfined to poets. It ma), fuund , for oarnplc, in ' Lnnginu~- , though at first sight things look a lillie diffe re nt. T he frequency with which the langn,,!:,· of fnlimlisillsmM is u"xl in 011 slIhlimi!>" has ca ker m"SI feel" genuine emolion, h ut it mu st he such that the audience will share it. It is Ihis emotion which 'inspires'
ue
,. SO) F. If,h,li, ill a" i"'l"'na", ""ay, ' Orr
'97".97- '2<» . " .11........., •• ,
"~Y'-<:.
10
{H",., littUfS ~~ .
N
Se~
1.4: 3.2; 8 . • ; 8A:
1~.I ;
36+
speech. ' Longinus' uses the full gamut orthc traditiona l vocahula ry of inspira tion and prophecy: mall ia, p"tuma, mthousiasmi!S and d stas;,- are c h:nactcr;~ tic t~ r ms. He even uses ;1 in an addition al a"d pcrh"ps novd way , tu dcsuibe the rchttion hetween a writer and hi s classical mod d .-lI> So we have IWO sta ges : the ex citatiun of the writer's mind by emotio n, and the ;;onsequent exci tation of the reader's, whi ch is th e purpoSt: oflhe who le procedure. But there is a .:omplie"Iion _ ' 1.•Ollgin\~~' has a further rxpcctation : he requires that the 'emotion' sha ll be not on ly vehement bnt of a certain mora l qual ity. In fac t emotion in itself, d espite hi s p<Jlcm ical insi'H:ne'! on it as a n element wmngly overlooked hy hi s 0ppom,m C,,('cili u•. is nOt in hi. view "b....lutri y e",">H;,,1 tu 'su bli mily', whic h can act ually ex isl withuu til; indced .... me e mot ions, nota bly pity and fear, are 'low', and so not relatt'd to 's ublimi ty' at "ll.J' This is why lh e ~rsonali(y of the writ er is important. He <:al1not be expectcd ei the r to thin k gra nd 'ho u gh ts or 10 gc",:ral<: "nd c x c iu: g rand c rll(>1ion' if he is ravaged by d.:-;ire for gain or money , or dcaf to the ca lls of honour a nd posthumous fame. T he righ t atti tude can 10 some c_~t e nt be developed by training and habit, but only on the basis ora ccrtain natural endowmcnt. No on<: would da im that ' Longillus' is ckar of ,"nhigui t}' or confusio n. But it is ev ide nt enoug h that the gra ndl: ur he is trying to te,,~h is conceived as th c product ofna tivcendowlllenl shaped by a moral education which inflllences both intellect and feel ing ; it issupposed to sweep away all pett), though ts, fix the mind on large alld nollle issu es, and en<:ourage all sorts o f gcn<: rous a nd powerful <:motional reactions. So far as thc int<:rpreta tion of thc 'givcn e!em<:n t' is concerned, Ihis is not SO very ditlerent from Horace. Neilhl:r the 'gi"en' nOr the 'acq uired ' i~ enough in itself, but perfection comes from thei r comhination. Both Horace's poet and ' Longinus' , orator, if ther are to have Ihl: effecl 011 their audiences which the), desire, ha ve to ha",,, certain qualities of character. They have to be 'good' men, no t dis"blcd by vice or meanness; and th ey have th en to subject Ihcir 'nature' to the demands of an ' art' which is far from being a mcre ,"crbal ttochniqu e. !I.-Iorrovcr, neither the basic ability "8.~.
The
P~,I
and /.;s
I~sp;ml;on
83
nor the acquired technique is thought of as something which migh t exist in a p<:rwnali ty otherwise unhal"n~cd, c~cenlric Or inadeqnale. T he mad poel a nd Ihe deratlg~d orator are simply failures.
CHAPTE R SIX
The Poet as Teacher , Til t: REar", obvious !inks b.o:r we",n rhe norion of a poe6 in.p ira_ rion and Ihal of his didactic or socia! function . W", saw thaI in early times rhe value of the il}spiration was in fact believt'([ to !ie in the poet'. access to knowledge whic h the gods were willing 10 impart to mankind. We saw a!so thai , in Ih e moralising syn_ Ihesis to b.o: observoo in Horace and 'Longinus', the poet' s 'nature' is ,,"ie ny valuable as a guarantee of the elli"acy and pe rmanence of his works. No a ncient account of inspiration or 'given element' makes th e expressio n of the poet's individuality th e important thing. The paiimo. 'left behind' by rh e proce!lS of pail$is is not the image of a mind, hut a stalement about Ihe externa! world which wi!! be of use to the rest of us, because it is so const ructed as to impress or excite our minds.
, But in what way is the statement meant 10 I:J.e of use ? When Aristophanes,' at the e nd of the fifth century, make!! Aeschylus say Ih:n children have teachers to instruc i them, whik adults have poets, he is formula ting a genera! idea which wou ld havc been widely accepted nor on ly amo ng his own audience but by man y people at most periods thJ"()ughout Greco-Roman antiq uity: n"mdy, Ihat it is the poet's busi ness 10 give iilllruction of some kind-whether in faC IUa1 knowledge or skin, or simply in thc art of living. But rhe con tras t betw~n c hildren and adults wou!d nOt have been so univenany obvious. No t long after Aristophanes' time, in the course of the fo urth I h ot , IO~~.
Tkt Potl as T eaCMr
8;
ce ntury, a seco nd ary ed ucat io n in rhetoric and p hi losoph y be· came common; and the paltern in the later ages of antiquity was very muc h 10 relegate the teac hing of poetry 10 the earlier $tages. Fa r from b<.:ing tho; stal'k cduo;a tio nal med ium of th e adult , it bceam e the staple fare of the c hild. 2 Accordingly, fro m Plato o nward s, philosophers co nccntTatcd thciT atten tion on the cflect of poctkal rablc on the you ng and impressio nablc. Pl ato of eo ul>C, at least in the Rrpuhlic, was deali ng with very special chi ldren, the future guardians, who have 10 Ix broug ht up to he su perio r to o rdina ry man kind. In this context. the mora ls of the actual audiences of real life-i ncl ... ding women , c hildren and slaves- an; o~ nOgreat ~o",:cr n . Pl utarc h's trea t ise On li."e been much in t,,"em ieth· ceOlury minds.
Btl! of cou rsc. it was by no means Ih e un iversa l vicw in antiqui ty, any mon; than il is toda y, tha I poelry should be 'useful". T here wl"fc al"'a ys I hose whu held Ilta tits e ffeel was "d ~-q ua td y described ,,5 pit-asurc, an d thal Ih is indeed was quite obvio usly ils aim. ' POell compose for p lea su re. not for Iruth,' says a filth . 'Slo ' , ~ ,8 ( ..!I£ 30~ ) appe.rs con5<";om of thi' change. He ol ... n·., that ',he a"ciem, ' b.:lie"cd ' h," "11 age. could be trainro thr<>ugh J>OCtry . H i>lory and philosoph)" ~pp<arecllater. "w a$ "illtruc. in hi. "ie"', ,hat pottc)· had • u'e for many adull>. because philosophy was no' accnsihl< [0 lh~m . • E. ,,,,ct. in tl/£ ~o7 If.
86
Crilimm in Anliqui!J
cciltury lext of sophistic origin.- Now whenever such a ge nera l statement is mad e, on eit her side, il has to be seen as part of a polemic. Unless poets claimed truth, this particular selUenee would not be worth uttering; and what makes the contrary worth saying is the belief, often enough expr(:SS(:d, Ihal poetry
is a delusion and a source of moral harm. ' Pleasure' and 'utility' or 'truthfulness' thus play the same SOrt of part in allempls 10 define the purpose of poetry as 'art' and 'endowment' do in attempts 10 describe th e capacity which produces it. And just as (JT~ and ingmium could be said to 'combin e' to pro_ du(e the perfe<:t n:alisation of poetry, so a combination of 'pleasure' and 'utility' could be regarded as the wise poe!'s aim: ' he who combines the useful wilh the pltasant wins every vote.'! This compromise, however, settles nothing. I t is true eno ugh in the literal $erne: it is onen possible to put in something to please various sections o f the audience, including those who want solid instruction and not just entertainment. But unless some at tempt is made to de«"rihe th., r"l ation~hip "f th e Iwo aim. to each olher, no useful theorelical point is made. The idea Ihal (he '",e' comes from the cOntent and the 'pleas ure ' from Ihe sound of the words is one such attempt; it $eems to have been whal the Hellenistic thoorist Nooplolemus said of Homer." But it is ofliule avail, since it is dear that we must judge the invention of a poem by qualities offanc)", coherence and probabilit)" which ha\'e nothing to do with its mora l use. Beller perhaps to say that the intended aim is (he promution ofvinuc, and the c harm co mes 'by accidcnt' j7 this at least makes your priorities dear. 4
The 'didacticist' posi tion is perhaps always th e product of a situation in which poe try appears 10 need d efen ce. In early Greece, this happened when the myths which were the subjectmall erof e pi c carne \0 appear improbable or morally Tep rehen • Dis,.i /ol"i (9<' Did,_ Knn. ) '. ,8 and 3. ' 7' Lana'a "4. ' Honce . .-I " {l«IUd 34'"
• Philw""" ibn Ii, Ct/i,hu: Fii~fol 8",~. ed. C. Jen...,n ( '913 ), 33·
, So Ari'lid ... Quinti)ianul
~.6.
8)
sible. Perhaps all an-funn which is widciy iK<.:cplnl. t\'C II ifi\ is disliked by some and regarded as a vchicle of corruption, doe~ not alln,et ddcn~cs of this kind . Attac ks un the moral d anger of television , after all , are (om ll1onplac;c; h ut we have nOt yet
got \0 the slagcofsa),i ng that it ough/to he instructive, as I'l alo said [>IktS ought to !each, or indeed of al1cgorising the my ths which it p ropagates. Th e ill1l5;Oll is .lilltoo strong. [ n (he fifth and founh centuries, poe try wa~ alre .. ')y being ali ego ri'ICd , wh ile rhetoric, the newer art , cou ld only he allackcd. In la cl, the practice of relating poetry to ulher human iIClivi(;cs illld judging it by criteria apl' licuH. CI"'I'1
• Lan~'a 1O~ « xtn Ct) : o . c . T. Homer ."" " 7 fT. (<<') t i Y If; I::. R. Dodd, (CQ ', ( 19~~ ) ,87 r. ; M . L. Wc
8B
Criticism in Antiquity
m en did ind eed make their gods in th eir own im age . Who then
is the prnisewonh y poct ? Apparently, h" whose aft er-dinn er so ng shows concern for vinue and the gods, and is not about battles of Titans, Giant s a nd Centaurs, nor about quarrels (slasias ) with nO good in them. to Wh ethu this last phrase allud es 10 political lyricists like Aleacu. or, as seems more likely, to the strife a nd wrath that a rc the subj ect oflhe Iliad, it is clear thai Xcnophancs is recomme nding a style of poetry that uscs th e soc ial opporluniti.:s of perform a nce for moral educanOn.
So it was familiar d oc trine by the firth century that the traditional subjects of poet ry were immora l. Fa miliar 100 was th e relat ed observation that poets we re bound to be bad witnesses 10 fa ct, OCUliSt they a imed to entertain. He rodotus ca n say that Homer knew th e story th a t Helen went to Egypt a nd nOt to T roy, hut ~ uppressed it in his main na rra tive because it was not so 'seemly' (lujtrtf!eS ) for e p ic," It was, H erodotus believed , the . r u e vers ion o f what h"ppcned, becau"" if H den h"d really bee n at Troy the Trojans wo uld surely ha ve surrend ered her lo ng before enduring a ten-yea r siege. But what exactly is mean t by say ing this was not euprtf!eS fo r ep ic? Th e notion of 'see mliness' is both mo ra l and aesthe tic. Jl When Herodotus explains elsewhtre that a ce rtain Egy ptian religious myth is not euprepes fo r him to tell, he $CemS w mea n that it is a secre t he ought not w reveal." But in the passage we a re conside ring , the lor<:c o rthe word se<: ms mainly aest hetic: ifHdcn had not gon e to T roy, the war and all its sa<: rifk es wo uld have been abou t nothing, and so nO lit th eme for hcroi<: ]Xl"'try.
; These negative evaluations, mora l and fa<:tual. evokcu a ppr&,. X~noph"n .... B' Div..... CP 3~ ( '93R) . ~'13 If. " Iknxlotu. ~ . ,,6 , Thu th.mc a l... had a long hi,wl)' ; cr. DioChry.,,"nm 0,_ " (T,oid"s )_ " To,,,,,,,,,, (.I".",,,,) ;. an extrem ely importa .. t concept bo,b i.. e.hics ~lId in cri,ici.m: a da .. ic dill(uSiioo is M . PoIllrnl. 'Top""",,' . ,\'AG 1933 r KI
Tht /'0<'1 as T((lcher
'9
priate defences, Ihe earliest a\\emplS 10 jU !I and trI. whcre thc 001 Iill\· of hi~ re,~"mm l:mlalions is ginn: and Hoo k x. apparentl)" a lalrr appendix. whieh explains the I)l;yehological and episte mological princ iples involved, in Ihe lig ht " rlh e theories concern ing Ihe so ul and Ihc forms which are expoullded in Ihe ce n I ra I boo ks of I he dialogue. In Books !I and !It he illustralf'S lhe ki nd~ of wpi c whi ch arc un:;uita hle. being bOlh "nlme to Ihe real nature of Ihe gods and uncondueive (0 virtu e. Since God i.1 assu med to he good and unchanging, stor ies in whid, divine adion appears W he wea k Or ill_iIllenli<)nr.d mU.l t Ix: lill.<;(. But Pla to docs nOI condenm Ih ..se nWlh s !;Oldy becaus,· dwy aT(" fal se (37S",): the ,Jt-eh iH poinl against Ihem is the moral one, for he belieyes Ihey o ug hl not 10 be disseminated e'·en if they wne lrue. Nor is il any usc , ill hi., view. usi n)!;" th" def.. nce of allq,:Ol")' (I",pmwia. 3iHr-). 1",,·r.ause ·the young· cannOI recognise th is when Ihey hear i\. In thi, of eo un<e !he preoccupalion wilh Ih.; fU lure ·guardian. ' i. evident; UUI Plaw·, di sli k(' of allegory is 10 be seen elsewhere also.!l He rarel y uses it himself, and then with iron Yi J6 h is own mylhs have reson anc.;s and deeper ~ig nifica nc<:s, hut nO! a 'hidden sense·. T h ... "onsl rue (io n of mylhs, according 10 Ihe Republic, mUSI ue govcnwd by cenain guide-li nes (II/poi ), a nd th ese in turn arc determined by the moral id eal appropriate 10 Ihe guardia n~; con co rd , courage and cont rol of emo tio n are Ih.; ess,~ntial v irtues. Thu. not hing frightening about H ades is permiss ible, ,HId 11 0 I,""e llla l;un,. Now Homeric he roes weep Ireel r, and grieffo r I he d ead la kes ils course of due indulgen ce. So il docs in mu,l Gree k communities of all periods. Pl ato is im posing a special, pe rha ps Sparlan , ideal on h is imagined " Ahow. Chaptn
t! :\.
., Ph,,,,",,, H'~ ; If. Lo A. at C"",iQ,. 49' .
Criticism in Anli'luiry elitc. Theoretica l support for these proposals is given by the doclrine of mimiJis, Ihat is, the accoum Plalo gives of th e relationship between the rea l world and itS coumerfeit in literature and art. Discussion of this belongs toour next chapte r; for the moment, it is cnough to observe that Plalo is co nvinced that poetry does affect our emotion s, and Ihal exposure to emOlional circumstance!! represented on the siage or in fi~.lion is likely to intensify our natural tendencies and weaknesse<. Ind eed, the beller the poclry. the worse the moral effect. 6 This tradition had a long history, but was none the less somelimes an embarras'lme nt to later admire rs of Plato, such as Plutarch. In his treatise On lis/tiling /0 tM potts," Plutarch uses many of the examples given in the Rtp~blic; but his Object is nOI to dissuade th e young from reading classical poetry, but only 10 show how it may be read without incurring mora] danger. H e therefore draws an argument from the consideration that poetry is not concemt-o with truth but necessaril y involVe!! ficlion, and orges that we can admire the skill of the imitation evcn when we fcc! disgust at the thing representl-d. He draws two other kinds of knowled ge into the art of judgment: co mprehcnsion of Ih e context and th e person of the slXaker; and historical understanding of the peculiarities of the poet's language and drcumstanCe5. All th is is in the service of a somewhat prudish res~tability, but Plutarch's enterprise is none the lessofinterest: it probably represents fairly accurately much educa tiona l thinking of the Roman period, and it entails COn_ side rable scholarly sophistication. In the pn:face to his life of Pericles, however, Plutarch make!! a further point. It i$ to th~ e fft"Ct that virtue in i(..'\Clf contai ns a tendency to inc it e us to emulate it. Hence Ihe presentation of vinuous cha racters- such as most of those whose lives Pluta rch elec ted to write possessed an educational effecti\·enl"$S derived from the suhjeci itself. Plato and his followers thus recognised the educational force of poetry. They believed that the praise and blame expressed "s.:~ m.~, Chapter IV 7·
The PQeI as Ttacher
by the
poets ~ and
9'
praise and blame were the essence ofthcir
work - were likel y [0 be rl cdsi\'c in determining lhe moral a Iti( udes of th eir readc r~. POClry muSt therefore be con (rolltd _ Ifit was impossible \0 prevent poe ts from writing und esirable lhin~ . the di sse minatio n of them must be chec ked ; and if dml in turn prov"d impossi hl e, wise guidance 10 th e rea d er mig ht at least lead him 10 a harmless interprel;t(ion.
7 Ari~t<) de' s
positi,m on I],,;SC issues i.~ much more com plex. The 1'(J(lirs i~ concerned wilh lhe slxccial excel lence of poetry, wha t we sho uld ""]! ils ilC'J l hctic q ualities. Poetica l concC1n~>$Il (or /halls ) is. he says explicitly, di stinc t fro m Ihal of el hi cs or olher skitl s.'3 The cr it eri on of uni ty, one o f the main grounds on which he pre fe rs tragedy to epic, is a wholly 'aest he tic' one, with no signi fica nt moral overto ne •.'? It i. Irue Ihat in disti ng ui shing comedy from tragedy he rests on a diltinction of good a nd had nOt on ly in Ih e ,ubject, bUI in Ihe pcrw""lily of the poet .20 Th is value-difference , howe-'er, o ugh l nOI 10 impl y " dilfnen ct: of iIllrim ic value bel"""t:n the two ge nres themselves. Aristo lle o ught co nsistently IU hold thai a comedy which achieves i\$ end a nd 'proper pleas ure' po!iSCssesas mud, poe tica l orlholis as a simil arly cllCcli"e traged y. We do no t have his aecounl of comedy , a nd sO CannOI ,ay whelher he aClually did say thi s. BUI it would nOI be inconsistent with the hi 'lO rieal specula tions of I'Mlies 2 . Cmnedr involves 'inferior ' pt:rso nal ilies. bot h " .1 subjects and as C<J "' pos,~r" _ T hi.1 doe, not a/feU the coneClnes, o r ot hnw ise o f an y specific exe rcise of Ih e comic poe!"s an. Yet when we re"d Ihc rest of the I'oeli", funhcr eomplieatinn. "!,pc"r. I , wn uld ~p pt"" r r",,,, .-- h"I'''·'' '5/' '[,a' the art istic principle of unit y j uSlilies th e im i ta t ion of wickedness if it is necessary lor Ihe overall cllCet of Ihe play; in olher word s, poelie,,] orlho/i)- hen: overrides moral. T he re'1uiremenl that chara" ters shall he 'good ' tlu"n a p plies \() tragedy Il<;ca use " "If",o ~3 . " '46, ' 3'" '4-111" ,6, 'HH·2" tL. '449" p . 11 '4~1" ,6 ff.
9'
Criticism in Anliqui!y
it is defined as having 'people bene r than ourselves' for its sub-
ject, not because it is cxpeclt'd ofi\ that it shall afford lessons or exemplars for our own moral behaviour. On the other hand, Aristotle seems \0 have thought thaI the relation between the poet and his audience was not only distinct from that of persuader 10 persuaded ll but also from the relation of entertainer to enlertaim:d. This is because he 100 Kgardcd ;1 as involving an elemen t of instruction, the transference not of attitudes and
opinions conducive to the speaker's interest, but of knowled ge and understanding valid in itself. 11was Aristotle's fundamental oonvktion that 'all men daire to undcntand'; poetk min/his, which was concerned with generalities, was an aid 10 Ihis end, and SO waS "!non: .o;erious and philu'«)phical' than the n..:;ord of individual facts which is called hiSloria. 2J In other words, a fic· tional narrative of Ihe right kind has a wider application than a factual one, and is a more eco nomical and at the same tim~ llIore penetrating way of helping us to understand the world and the people in it}' There so:<: ms to he for AristOll e- as for Plato-s harp opposition belween 'pleasure' and 'utility' where poetry is concerned ; but whereas Plato surmounts Ihe anti· thesis by identifying the right pleasure with that felt by the mature and ""ber men of sense, Aristotle does <0 by arguing that the pleasure of poelry includes that of learning. Poetry thus does a service for the life of contemplation, rather than for the life of action ; and for Aristotle this was th e higher mani. festation of human polentiality, If 1)(IClry has a utility on the pra'::lkallevci, whether Ic.::hni.::a! or moral, Ih is must then be in cidental. A puzzle does indeed remain. The e ffe<:\ of tragedy in 'producing a klllhllrsis of emotions' li ke pity and fear forms " I.~. it i. di,tinct from th~ orator', . elation to hi, hear~fS: Ari,totlo "'. g •• dod rh~toric a, an art " 'hieh could he u,ed fo< ,'ari"u. end., g.-..-.d or bad, ~nd conc~rned him""lf, in thc Rlro
-""'' a,
The PIXI as Tracker
93
part of the defin ition of tragedy, l! and o ne wuuld thin k that the eHec t meant here is in !.Orne ~nse a moral one; hut the notorious diflicultics of this abrupt and oracul~r allusion to kal/m,sis m~ke it d ifficult to he sure what Aristotle mea nt and what relation the doctrine bears to hi s po5ition on the issue we are here considering. 'f his position is indeed not easy to define. Certainly, Aristotle rejecls any view which exposes the poel, qua poet, to crilicism on moral groun ds. H e regards such criticism as beside the point. T he poet's arl lies dsewhere; ally lesso ns we learn from him are irKidcntal to it. Yet th.~ subject of traged y and cpicand Aristmk ha rdl;' consid ers a ny thing dst" - is nothing but Ih~ ~I' herr of hmmm proces.~ tending then to enli ght en Ihe undeTStunding of the malure and balanced readn. It is a., though he is see king a justification of poetry as a worthwhile stud y not for ordina ry people but for those capable of ' philosophi cal ' enlightenment. T his would be a direct response to Plat o's Rtpuhlic, and a dek nee (far more su btle tha" Plutarch '.) of the study of poetry by thc people who mailer mosl.
,
Arislotlc's doctrine On thc n:lationshi l' of poetry 10 truth was thu.1 complex a"d diflicuJt. Li ke muc h else in the PQ('/ics, it was imperfttdy u n
94
Criticism in An/iquiry
But he does not mah lhe c haracte ristically intellectualising conn ection between the two. So th e idea e nt ertained by A ristalk that poetry, in "in ue of its imitative character, might have a special relalion.~hip with the res t of human life, dis tinct from and 5Uperior to that of rhelOric, was nOl pu~ued. On th e contrary: the similarity which Theophrastus formul ated"" between poetry and oratory, namely that both were directed nm 'a1lhe facts' but 'at the audience', and so wcrc not primarily concerned with truth , weighed much more heavily in the minds of all Arist()tl e's successors than any notion ortheir fundamental distinctness. The problem of the commitment of poetry to pranical i$Sues (Quid thus only be discussed in terms which had no reference to this ; this meant a simpler debate, on grounds familiar already in pn:.Ari~totelian thinking. We find in fact two theories, crudely opposed to each uther. On the one hand there were thuse who accepted the old vie .... that the aim of po<:try was simply 'pleasure' , and identified this pleasure with 'beguilement' (p$uchag(jgia). This was the vie .... of the princ ipal Alexandrian schula ... and poets : Callimachus and Eratosthenes both held it, so did Aga!h arch idesofCnidos,!II who said clearly that it was wrong to blame poets for their myths and improbabilities because the y aim not at trutb but a t beguilement. Thi~ .. iew resembles Aristotle's positi on in asserting the autonomy of poetry and the impropricty of judging it on criteria not suitahl e to it. Hut it is really quite different. Th ese wr ite rs (and especially Call imachus) were mainly concerned .... ith poetical technique - me tre and th e p lacing of words, vocabulary and metaphor, T he good ness of a poem rested on this, not on choi~'e of suhjl,cl. Of the philosophical schools, it was the Epicureans who came near",,1 10 affording a th eo ret ica l bas is lor thi s attitude, the Stoics who most clea rly upposcd it. Epic urus' hostility to poe lry as a vch icl c or instruc tion was SO sharp that it is puzzling to find Lucretius ac tually setting out his doctrines in vcrse ,JO On Ihe other hand , later Epicureans at
'" ex. aho\'~_ Chap'" t. ... 4. Appcu""d. c _g_. by P_ H . Sdtrij,·.... a, /);,in4 1'. /.rlll-1 ( '970), .,.p. 325 If.
II.".,
T"~
POri as TrtU/.tr
9S
least were interested in "n"lysing the mechanism by wh ich poetry effected ib beguilement, however trivial iLl object was. T u the Stoics, a t the o ther extreme, a poem was, of cou~, a verbal construct, giving charm and pleasure- but it was also 'significant' of the world ofgoos and men. Ifit is a good poem, it contribule5 to the good life, T he general view of the Stoics may be seen in Strabo's polemic against Eratosthe nes. JI T hey held that Homer was (an d iutended to be) educa tive, a nd on more than one level. T he poe ms were of use to farmers and geographers, a. wel l as to n"",kind in general in a mora l sense. T he poel's skills were thus anci ll ary to ~.Jucationa l needs _ C leant hcs and (in a sense ) Aratus and Manil ius t:onsciously used it to promulgate Stoic views of the un ivt,n;e. T his a tti tude has afilnities, of co urse, with Plato , But instead of following Plato in confining the legitimate uses of poetry to hymns and encomia, the Stoics tell in wi th t he old er tradi tion of allegorical interpretation. This was in accord with thdr similar conservative attitude to myth and (ult; and it is la rgely through the Stoics that allegory became so very important in Hellenist ic, Roman an d indeed Christi an times. Some discussion of allegory is thus a natura l pendant tu the topics we have been conside ring_
I n
"s.:. at",,"., Chapler
t, n_ ~I. " l\esid.,. HuHi!:« .... J. Pcpin, Myhul Qlli~i, (19,,8) ; OeD, , .v, Alkgo,y
96
C,i/icfJm in tlnliqui!J
criticism. Nor is th e Ilat 1I~ of 1he supposed . hidden knowledge'
our concern: it migh t
~
scientific, mora l, political or, in the
NeoplalOnists, metaphysical. The implications for cr iticism, it seems to me, are three:
0)
T he fif$\ is to be seen in the arg ume nt for the plausi bili ty of the method expound ed in the early cha pters of , Heraclitus' ,n This is based on the occurrence in the poetS of passages that arc ob\'iously 'allegorical'. ' Heraclitus' fi nds th~e in the early ly ri ci.,,: Archiluc h us and A!cacus use images of Storm and SCa-
faring to denote political upheaval and danger. He finds them also in Homer himself, in the words of Odysseus about the wastefulness of waf: Broll ze throws a lot o fsl'''w down On the ground , out the harvest is
scanly ......
T his last is also the grammarians' stock example of the trope all~goria.3' It i. On the way to [' .. ;ng " ,h at ,,'e shou ld call an allq:orv. but not yel d • .'
00'
The POtl as Twcher
97
sumption througho ut an tiquit y. H orne r was thought to h;l\"c bccn fully conscious of all the moral and scic mifi<: fa<:ts that wne read inlo him . In th e last age or Ihe a ncient world, th e Silnl e waS sa id also of Virgil: fulgc miu.s l1 mak.:s the poe t him_ selfrevca l his hidden meanings, thoug h ,;mpha~ising that he was a paga n to whom the Christ ian rcvda tion had no t b,ccn vouch. safed . Without (llis as-su mpl ion, I he defensi"e object of allego ry - whic h had d evclopcrl largely as a res ponse to attarks o n im. mo rality in myth and <: pi <;- <;ou ld IH;V (:f hayc b~<: n allaincd. Th e onl y area of doubt seems to have heen whether Homer's intention in cl uded the inte nt ion 1flleach: perh aps , it was sug · gested, he put th ings Ih is "'ay just for poetical ef1Cctivencs-s. E,'en Ph ilod em"" ",ho den icd Ih a t poet ry h ad a moral fu net iOIl, allowed that Homer 'knew the fOwts ' , but <]ue.tioned whether he se t Ihe m dow n ' for tdu~atio" al purpo;;es' ..l>I So, ill ,w fa r as il used 'all egory' as a means of im erpre la tion, :mc ient cri ticism was 'intent io na list' , (iii ) It follows Ihal tI. e a ncient inh'rp reters assumr,d Ihat Ihe :l!u hors Ihey were e"jX>unding fiN t form ula led their messagr:, and then gave il allegor ical d re.s. 'I 'h is is to neg lec t a d istinction betwr:en 'allegory' and ·s~· mboli.\m· , which is co mmonly sta ted in modern times. No one in an tiqui ty seems to ha\'e had th e idea tIl;! 1. inslcad of begi nning with a mr:s"agc and em bodyi ng it ill fiuion, o nc might begin with a story o r subject and treat it "'< a sy mbol o f happe nin g' or IrUlhs whi ch ha" e some fo rmal n ;scm blanct to it. And th is is odd, ' r he practical and rhe tor ical usc of mythi cal and h istor ic"l (Xfmpla itself im plies t hat Ihe Ira· dilion al stori es con lain as il were the jX>tentiality of being applied in a grea l many ways. Aga in, some an cie nt poems !Irong ly 8uggest thaI this is :m intelligent approa ch 10 understanding Ihe m , It is d iffic ult to thin k that Virgil di d not have the Irials and triumphS of atl human life in "iew as h is ~u bjcct wh en he wrOle the Georg ics, or Ih at Iht ex ploits and virt ues of Al'neas do not somehow fores hado w those of August us, without therc being Ihe kind of ~"quivHfence betwee n them tha t would lead us to spea k of allegory .
., s.~ Premi"g<' 3~4 -40.
" C. J~""'''. l'hil
Critici,,,, in Antiqlliry
or
These conside rat io ns suggest that we have here another case the inadequacy or ancie nt c riti cism, as the rh etol'S and
grammarians practise
CIIM'TE II SEVEN
Mimesis , T ilE relation,hip be tween anist or work on the one hand and th e world of exterll al objec ts on the other is very commonly d escribed in Greek by the term mimisis, the Latin tra nslation of which is imitalio. I T hese a rc difIicu lt wo rds to in terpret, and they covcr a number of con fusions and ambiguities, But it was ha nil)' ever q W:S t ioned in ant iq nity rhat Ihey we re appropri .. te as a genera l d e'it;ript ion or what ~ (s and an isls do. Now Ihese words certainly indkau: that the rcia lionship was held to be some sort of represe n tation o r copying, \\'hal e\'er prob lems arc raised hy this, the ani st's product, the mimtllla, could nOt comc inlo cxistcnt\: witholH a corresponding object ou\.\ide, on which il d\:pends for its structure and dmraclt:rislics. It is a d istim;t;I'e featu re of ancien I c ri tidsm 1hat this was very widely takt: n for granled, I ndeed, opposing "ltitu dt;S a rc vcry rarely glimpsed . I t wa< of co ll l'Se po",iblc, within th e framcwork o f mi"'isis_th oo ry, to allow for the possi bility ofreprodlH:ing you r own framc of lllin d. Th e letter-writer has to project his im age to his d istant ~()rrc<; p()nd e nl , and make it see m as if he was lalki"g to him fa ce to face; and De me tri us th ere fore ,a ys of the le i tcr w i, id, had hc"olll c a III inQr bu I "igni fic" II t Ii tc nlTY fu m, - that it is an 'ima ge ' orthe sender's mind (tiko" ItS ps"rhis),2 ' Of tho ,'as, !it"""""". J sillKl<- 0<'" T. Twi llin~, I)iswlal .." On """I') 0< O. imila,i", a,'. "PllClld r"" Ol"'n ); 1/. I/"u,,'. A,i"oll" ('""ie> r '9.<;6), R. l>[ r K",n. ill .Hod". 1>~iI(J(~", 34 [ , !l1Gj , ' - 35' \\' ..1, V "rocni"" ,\I;",,,., ( '953): G. F. [ I" in C(~jJi,.1 Phi/(J(b,,' ~3 ( '9:,11), 73-9''' and ",0., """ '"Ily . .1 . [",t", ... I .,.;~, I" /li.I.,,", pl.'D.idI. , . . [ '!1781, 7~ If. ;lIld H , rta,h", in t ;."'li,., /f.,d, ~~ ('!l79I, 79 ff, , Ikmr"iu. n7 (:lI.C 2' , ),
But this is still a very long way from the Romanti c concept of literature as motivated by th e need for '~ If-expressio n'. Agai n, ancient notions of 'imaginat ion' - phanlasia- are a long way from Coleridge; and the whole idea of the writer as somehow creating a new world, rath er than merely offering a partial image of th e world of the senses, is in general alien to Gr~ k and Roman thinking. The man who sees with the eye of the mind, and penetrates depths unkn ow n before, is the philosopher Or sdentist, nOl the poet o r man ofletters. Such passages ofanciem literature a.o; are some times alkge
, Of the va rious ambiguities inherent in the term rnlrniflS, twO ma~· be single<" oM 1M fAli~ Middl, .i llS (E. lr. ) 4-1 + a m>.gnificcnt a nd dC>(:ryedly inAu.nti,,! book. ,·. ry irnporlalll 10 da .. ical "'hola D .
,\-fimtsis
w,
ties whic h are radi call y different in inte ntion . .-Himimala ma y be of two quite ditlerent kinds. I can cnpy somebod y doing something for ei ther of two reasons : in o rd er to do the sam e thing m yself, or in orde r to produce a lO y or model of the activit y. The liNt sort of ,imitation' is the principle of ma ny human skills and artefacts; 'a rt imi ta tes na ture' by pla ntin g seeds a nd le tting the m grow, a nd in countless ot her wa ys! It is also th e bask procedure of h uman lea rning. Such mimiJis is obvio usly useful. The second sort occurs, say, whe n the painter pain ts a pic tu re of a shot"", o r the 10~' mak er makes a m in ia tu re model; nei th er model nor pict ure will keep on e'~ fee t dry. To mak e an y apologia for poe try, ifit i.1 regarded as a mim etic a rt, invol\'~"S show ing that th e second ki nd of mimisis, the makin g of models or IOys, has a utility. Ari stotle a ppea rs to do th is in a special ca.'I(: by his ps ychological theory of the 'catha rt ic' effect of traged y; but he also, in the ea rl y .:hapters of the Poetics, e mphasises the valu e of imita tio n as a pnx:ed ure of lea rning, a_I tho ug h th e obvio us utility of copying in Ihis mntext mi ght ru b otT, as it we re, On what tht· poet does. 3 The verb mimelliliai a nd its cog nates do not a ppea r in the Iliad or th e Od)"S$ty . They may be o ll o ma topoeie in o ri gin, a nd it see ms that th ey a pply pri ma ril y to the mimicry of so und s. The compos<: r ofthc Ho meric hymn 10 Apoll() deserib,,, the mai de ns of Deloo; a$ , inging of 'me n and wome n of old ' a nd 'c harming th e I ribe~ of me n' . 'They kno w to mimic the voices and c hatter of all mCI] ; a ma n wou ld think he was talking him seH; so harmo nious is th ei r bea utiful song.'l Again , in Aeschylus' ChINpM,;, Ore..." nnd 1' ~·lad e' l'rel .. nd 10 h e Phoc inn., a nd prop<>", to 'imitate the sound of a Phocian to ngue'.6 Of co urse, they do not do so, a t least so far as th e evidence of th e tex t goes, for Ar.sc hyl us gi\'es ItS no hint of I'hocia n dial ect ; and it is very • Th is id . a played a targe pan io mao)" aoe;.", throri"" of lil . de,·.lopm.rIl ,,r . i,·iti, a l; On . It was famili" to AriuolJ. ( f'~JJ. 19'J" IS, .1 /,1<1), ~. 3U,· 6, PYoI"ptu... fro I I W~tttr [ - I. mbt ichu., 9, 49 If. Pi. , dl i]. ) , 'fl If. K",,,~.l;.,t,,, . here "an , tate
Pro,,,,,.
'"
Criticism in Antiquilj
unlikely that the actors introduced any identifiable oddities of pronunciation. Bill, even in early times, this group of words has a wide range; and there is nothing in our evidence for its use that throws much light on the later theorctical developments,'
• The fil1!t tlll>()retical discussion we pos-o;es$ of m;m/sis in connection with literaturc is that which wc find in Plato's Rtpubiic. PlalO uses the co nce pt as an integral pan of his argument for rejecting poe try, thc moral grounds for which we ha'"e already considered. He IJegins by isolating ' perwnative' poetry-to use Twining's word - and assigning the name mimlsis especially to this.! He distinguishes three kinds of story-telling: by simple narrative, br mimisis, and by a combination of the two. The difference betwcen drama and epic is the formal one that the latler includes narrative in addition to direct . peech. This division is thus a da,,~ification uf modes of imitatiun (in the wider sense ), nOI ofslIbjects; it is ex haustive "nd a PTiori; and il seems to atlach unreal importance to the simplt: difference between direct and indirect speech, Ihough we have to remember that this kind of grammatical analysis was nO\'e! in I'lato's time, and Ihat he himself clearly attached significance to the diSlin~._ lion in question.~ In any case, Ihe purpose of thc mo\"e in the total argument is clear. Those parts of literature- all drama , and portions of epic- which directly imperwnate characters can, according to Plato, exert an ex traordinari ly powerful influence on the mind of the ' imitator'. It dO<,,. us harm , in Plaw's view, 10 act the parts of women mourning or ill, in lo\'e or in labour. or ofsla\'es or wich-d men. \Ve are bound 10 ask, however, whelher the speclalOr or reader of a pla y can reallr be aflected 10 Ihe same degn"C as the ac tor. Plalo seems to make thejutllp from aClive participation to mere observation wilhout , No'hing can he leamed from Ly.ia. 6,5' , ,hough i, ha. bttn much di ... ,·u,.ro; here mi""",,,,,.o' !Cern' to mean 'copying the real <eremnnic>' of 'he m)"mri ... which ..\ndocidco impiou,l)" par<>
, "3 explaining it. T wo considl:ra(ioIl5 may help here. Qne is (hal
' rcading' poetry was if mure active ousiness in ancient times than weare inclined \0 thin k. I I involved a good deal ofhistriunie play, as well as a good deal of vocal virtuosity. The th row-away manner it) which some modern poets preselH Iheir works would probably have seemed very strange and misguid ed. tO The second point is Iha( audiences wac expecleU !O parti<:ipatc in the feelings uf th" spea ke r in a morc pronou nced
way than is usual today. The educated modern critic tends
10
he patronising towards simple folk who 'enjoy a good HY' in the cinema; bu t Ihe audience that Plato envisages participates in the emotions of the stage or the recitat ion \0 the pooint of physical expression, and Ihis indeed is a criterion of the performer's ~ucce~s." Consequent!y, the in dfects of the mirnbis on the performer win be reproduced , not all that much wea kened, o n thuse who hear him. When we lurn 10 Book x of the Rtpublir, we arc faced with considcrable difllculti\:s. T he di'rus-~ion her ... (orreo;:ts and su pplements the earlier one, It itwoln'S the application of Ihe theories of Forms and of the 'polrls' of the sou l sct out in Books V- Vtl. T his is natural enough. wheth er we SUPI)()Sf that thr. di5K:U
or
,. T hi, r",hion (I 'hink R,,,,,",, Gra w" in I hi, ~o"''''''l io,,) rna}' I... 'l~it~ ",,'W . S~T\i,'i")( n'('()(t\, ,-.( T n",)'""" ''<'rtainl} .I~,w a much mo.... d,,.-Iamatory m"""ct. "cr. Plato 11m :>3~ (,1/£ H ). Ion judged hi> ,un... by lb. audicnc" lea .... S1. AuguOlinc (II, Io
,.,
Criticism in Antiquity
say in circumsta nces of war or po litks. He needs no real moral knowkdgc, blll only the 1I(:115C of wh al urdinary people believe. He is 't hird from the truth', because the world of the senses is an imitation of the world of the forms, and he in turn imitates the wor ld of sellse. Th e poet thus doa nuthing which has val ue for
the good life.
M e laph~ical
and psychological arguments have
combined to repITScllt him as both fraudulent and dangerous.
5 This picture is indeed somewha t modified in o ther contexts. The acceptable poet of the lAws is a good man in his way: over fifty years of age, having sCTvO!d th e slate with credit, he is now allowed under licence to compose poems of praise and blame. 12 But Plato makes no attempt 10 describe what an idea l JlO<:! might be, even in the somewhat ironical way in which he sket ched the ideal orator in the PhtudruJ. We have no reason to think that he ever en tertained the nOlion that poets a nd art i,to might aspire to copy directly the ideai of which objects in the visible world are themselves copks. Poetic mimlri.f is firmly mimisif of th is world, involving no knowledge of higher thing5. The neares t he comes to suggesting anothe r view is in Republic 401 B. where we find gra ndio'IC langua)l:e aOOut the good arti \t who r,an ' track down the nature of the beau tiful a nd graceful". This pr~umably means tha t lhe art ist has some power to recognise and reproduce goodness, and not merely to echo common illusions. He is perhaps on a level with the lo\"er in the lower stages of Diotima's 'ascent' in the S)'mpQJium, IJ who pursues beauty without philosophi ca l knowledge. Th e road to cognit ion of the forms, which would be the neco.>SSary preli minary to 'imita tion ' of them, lies through intense sllldy of philosophy and mathematics ; it has nothing in common wilh th", ways in whkh Ix:....ts and painters go about their thin k ing. So, though Pl ato likes th e paradox of the 'philosopher king', and even hints at a 'philosopher orator', he does not envisage a phil osop he r poet. But if Plato, as is commonly held," never proceeded further " Lau:J 8.829C-
"Sympo.iom
~Ol"
If.
"Some argumenu 10 Ihe C<)ntral)' in Verdenim, op. dt
Mimuis
...,
in this direction, later l'latoniSIS did. \ Ve do nOI know when Ihis trend began, but Antiochus of A.calon in the first cenlury !l.C. ' had ,It least an intermediary role'l! in establishing a higher view of art istic creation than that tll which Pla to himself adhcred . At all events, there is a lair alllount of evidence lat er than Ant iochus for an an,llogy drawn between th e 'demiurge' orthe world and the ani:'l, according to which both conte mplate Ih cir own Ihoughu in ordu \0 form their creations. T he demillrge thinks the ideas, and models the sensib le world on them. T he sculptor Phidias ( the traditional example in the argument) has in his mind specits ph/rhrilr,dinis eximia qUMdam, as Cicero putS it ,l~ "hi,.h he co ntemplatcs as he works on his Zeus or Athena, and hy whic h he guid~ his hand and skill. In this lorm, t he a na logy is associated wi th a metaphysical posit ion diller"m from Plato's: tlu: I rlea~, in~u: ad of having a ", holly ,e parate exi stenc(". have heco"'c the T houghts of God. This was accepted doct rine among many Plalonists of the lirst a nd second cen turi("s A.V . , though its origin is not clear." T he consequent aesthetic theory, in which the artist stands to his work a. the ideas stand to God who Ihinks them. is not reall}' a mimetic theory at all, hut an expressive one, for the artist now brings somethi ng or himsclf (0 the light of day. In Plotinlls "nd the Ncoplatonists, the metaphysics is again more complex, and II,,: cs~!:nt i aJ po in! Ihal ani.11 a nd 1I()!:t derhe Iheir ,uuj.:ct fro m somel hing of a h igher order Ih
" J. Dill"n.
l'latonim ( J9;; ), 93 11". 0" ,\miodlU> "'" "'I'. W. Thdler. [li, I".,n"il"~~!lt; -"",,toro. i,,"", ('934 ), '7 . .. 0'010' 8: '1n hi' mind there .... s an """tamling al'l".r.>nce of b('au,y. and he <" hand I)\" il> likrm:,,: F", 'he '·~pr,"",io" . rf. 1'1. Rrp. 41itc. "Dillon, loc . Cil . ; 1\ . H. Arm"",ng. H.,W;.", fla,dl 5 ( '9"'0) 393 fT. s.n<:<:a (£P;
Criticism in AI/tiqu!!>, (iv) that I'hidias made his Zeus on no sensible modd , but app",hend, ing what Zeus would I()(>k like, ifhe wished 10 appear to our $ighl.'· Later, in Pro<; lus," il is not only the highest but also the second o r 'instruc ti\"(,' kind of poetry that has this relationship to a higher order: the 'instructive poet' knows 'tht real nature of beings' and can provide ' recollectio n' o f 't he eternal principles and various powers'. This Nrop latonist approach was historically very inHuenlial, especially in the Renaissance. It has little to do with Plato ; it would be (ruer to say that it is an attempt 10 justify poetry against his ctnsun:, by bringing togtther the concept of mimesis and the poet's claim to superior knowledge, and re_ valuing them both .
6 Ano ther reaction to Plato '. radical views- and one that was well known to th e r-,'I iddle PlatQnisll! and to Plotinus and his successors - was thaI of Aristotle. I n the analysis of mimesis, as in mnc h d se, the Potlies gives the most sophis ti ca ted literary theory t hat antiquity has left us. Briefl y, Aristotle's position is Ihi!: (i ) He accepll! the cia.>;.<; ifi cal ion ofpoelry a. a mimetic arl. For him, il is all equally 110. The narrower se nse in which 'mimetic' is distinguished from narrative does not concern him much. It is in fact simply a dille rence of mode, and thert an: othtr, olien more important, ways in which one mimisis dillers from another. The chief of these are ' mooia' (di'MII) and 'objects' (ha ). Thns while drama differs frolll epic in mode, it has the same objects and uses the sallie medium, verse . The differ, ence be tween tragedy and comedy, on the other hand, is one of object; and Ihat belween poetry as a whole and lIIusic o r dancing one of mediu m. (ii ) Th e object imitatoo by poetry-as by dan cing, for Ihal "E""",d, ~.8.L. Cf. .\\. 1-1 . Abram •. TM ,IIi"., ""d 1M I",m/>. 4'. and A. H. Arm.,rong in C_o.;IIl' "i,/<)'7 of fAit> (;,,,k P";IOJ~.J. 733 · .. C.m ....~/4f.J OJ! 'IV/'t'bli£' i. '79.5 Kroll. cr.• bo,·~, Chap'er IV 8.
Mim(Jis
'"7
matter - is human action (praxis ), This involves inten tion, execUliorl and uutcome, A praxis is nOi juSt a happening animals ca nnot 'a(t ' (protlein), nor ~ven ch ildren, 20 for ' act ion' is a complex whole into wluch feeling, c haracte r and rational thought all en ter. T he J>O"'t's primary work is therefo re the plot (m~ lhos) of play or epic ; in this he const ructs a representation of peuplt pc rlunni ng actions of the kind s th at p~'(}ple of their sort wi ll naturally do, with the conseq uences that may be expo:ctcd to follow . Th e mimisis is thus an image ofa praxis. Th is ubviously applies to d rama and epic; thoug h Aristotle does not say much a bout ot her grnrt.J, suc h as lyric , he evide ntly held that thc saine account would hold of anything that could properly be brought under thc he ad of poiiliki. (iii ) T he portrayal of action involves the portrayal of iW, i.e. hu Illan Illilnners iI nd charilctcrs, and t hest are eit her 'good' or 'bad ' . Poetry i. therefor.: a representation of some thing morall y differentiated, a nd ils 1,,"0 main kinds ca n be distingui shed, o n th e basis of thei r objects, on this prin eipl ~ : traged y imitates 'good' characters and co medy ' had ' ones. It is no! ea.'y to inter pret this position; tll(!re are pitfalls on either sid~ . On the on~ h'llld, it is tempting to water the statement down , and say that 'good ' a nd 'b"d' an: primarily soc ial o r pol itiealt u m •. There is plausibility in th is. 'The bell er sort' is a common Athtnian way of denoting the upper Sira ta of soc iet y, and it is of course': true that the perso nages of tragedy are heroes and princes, a nd those of corned)' pri vate ci tizens ; Thcophra.tus~' , poJ< e of tragcdy as com prising 't he circumstances ofl":roi(. fortune' , ami of cOllu!dy as 'a stOry of private ilffairs involving nO danger' . Yet this social diflcrcnce ca nnot be the whole story. Prominent among the d lilractcri. ti cs of ilhi a rc wh," we sho uld enll m o r~1 virtues - j ustice. conra!;lc. moderatioJl a nd so forth. T he ·action.\ ' ofthc IlC IWns in the play are partly detc.rmined by these, and partly b y other, mOl"e external, q ualit ics wh ich also eha racteril.c ilki, \.;U t do not a p pear to us as 'moral" at all - power, wealth, statu s o r age. For Aristotle, as for most Gree ks of his tim e, " certain deg ree of good fortu ne in Ih ~'"Se respens was nec=ary for human happ i_ nl'S', an d their presence Or ahsenee affects the way;n wl,ich '''' "DiomcdcsGra"''''./AI.
, . ~H7.
"'"
Critici=
i~
Aflliqlli!y
individual behaves, and goes to determine what son of person he is. (iv ) Aristot 11'22 ~arg that tragedy imitat~.. pcopl" 'ben". than the present population' and comedy thOM: who aT" 'wor.;.,· than these. Again,'l poets imitate eithe r things as they were or are, or a. people sayor think they are, or as th ey 'ought' to be. Yet again,24 the poet is more 'philosophical' than the historjan, because he is not concerned with individual facts but with generalities (Ia kallwioll ). All th ese state ments make it clear that ,\rislOtle's mimisis is something very different from (he striclly realistic copying or mimicry that is the basis of Plato's arguments. The result of the process, it appears, is often an idealisation or a generalisation-in comedy, a caricature-of the object pcrceived in life. The poet, like the painter," can fill up deficie ncies in his modd, and show panicular i lhi in a more complete form than we can e\"er discern them in the world in which we li\"e. (v) This generalising and idealising tend ency in poetic mimisis is to be co nnected with another aspect on which Aristotle lays stress: its instructive ness. We learn by imitating, and we cnjoy the pleasure ofrccognition. But the recognition is not of identical objects, but of sim ilar ones; to see like n~, to sense the common features between events on the stage and events around us, is to e nhan ce one'.' understanding and SO 10 gain a little of the high es t of human pleasures. It is fundamental for Aristotle thaI 'allmen d esire 10 understand'; by his inter_ pretation of mimi.r;. he shows how poetry also may contribute to the fulfilment of the desire.
7 /i.fimisi. thus takes on a creative look; it supplements. improves and illuminales its ostensible models. But it remains of cour.;.,
who lly dependent on them
"'4411"'1·
fOf
its initiati,·es. It cannot 'make
I
" '460' 8. " 145"
" X~"" p hon
(M, ...,abili4 1.10.1 - 5) ·...,poru· a
com·~ ..... 6on
;n "'hieh Soc,a ..,. con"inca Parrh ... iu, lhal b}' r
Mimuis that which it has nOt seen'. For the creative fac ulty of'imagina+ lion' which can do juSt th i~, later writers used Ihe lerm pilaf!' lasia,lt> Now Aristotle did himsdfhave a psyc hological theory orphan/asia : it was n o, 'or """'I'r~ , ;.• "'1",,, ,·<1 .. ~ ~ < ~ "" ~: ml';"; c ", A do. ",alh_ I _26:1: k;J/o,;~ ,", ~~p"'ition mb • • l>k ,'w".,; "","" '- ~ xpooi'i,"1 u( ti"ti",,> ... hi,-h ,,~w, hal'P",,«I. Thi, m~fd)" d" .. if,n 'he ,O.UN' of van<>o, sa)·ing a,,)",hing .hoo, 'he mcn'~ 1 I'fCndix , 1'. 20~ ). JO Hi, namp! .. are all of "lO"wn" of ,,'h.. ,,-. ,ho"ld call1'~ 'h,,,, : At • . 9_H6 ('he ,holl]e .Iil" from lh~ hand, of Eo,)"al",' mo'hef ",h~n ,h. hu", 'he fum'ound ): 11 .119 (Ihe 100...., Aethon ""~.,,,); l
CriliciIm ill Anliquity philosophical Sd'.32 Wh en he makC'S Hdi'-"! n<:rvously advbe Phaeth on how to guide the chariot, 'the writer's sou l mounts with him , shan::'! his risks, and takes wing wi th the horses'; it could not han' achi eved th t-sc imag inative heights 'if it had not moved with equal pa<:e in the course oflhose heavcll ly movemC1J!S'. The implicatiuns of this way o f speaking of the poet's activities seem to be two: (i) he experiences a visio n ur emotional exper io:n c e which d epends on hi. po • ..,osion ofa nat urat capa city, but can he e ncouraged or indu ced ; (ii ) he reproducC'S thi~ experience in a form whic h will then induce it in others. The notion of mimisi.! is thus sup plemented by an appeal to the rhc torical doctrine of emo tions (PalM ); and the whole process is coloured by the terminolog~' of 'enthusiasm', \0 which Longinus is so m uc h addic ted.
8 \Ve thus S
.., Thi. 3t tUS1 is ,,'hat
th~
manuscript tTadition <>f' wnginW!' (t ~_~ ) giva _
11m Manut iu, cottjectuRd 'did 'I,ll " 'ould mal e ' Lo nginu,'
p"".la"o a.
~
a~r ..
capacity which
~hold',
and thi s (an .as)· correction )
e",,,tl y " 'ith I'hil()$tr-atu" and rel"" .. m
,.ppl"",." the 'en
MimtSis
'"
that is thus dcveloped is supp leme nted by the concept of phal1laJia, the memal powe r that can visualise what the eye has never seen. At this poim. writers like ·u.nginu~' and Quintilian invok e also the rhetorical preccpt (known to Aristotle , and indeed commonplace) that a certain degree of emotional excilement in the spea ker is ne.:essa ry for the adequate projection of emo tion \0 ot hers. It is natural to ask whether there are any links between this complex of ideas and other ways in which we fmd mimi>is terminology em ployed. There are two possible areas. T he first rdates 10 the 'mimetic' use of language. This was discussed in ancient theory in eormection both with wordgrouping> (figures and arrangement ) and with individua l words a nd sounds. u.nginus shows how asyndeta a nd hyper_ bata reproduce the haste, impediment and disorder of anxious or excited speech;" Deme trius'" and Quintilian lO make the point that 'small words' and short cola are more expressive of sma 11 things. Some of this th~'()rising is absurd ; but Ihe ela borate analysis b ~' D ioll}'sius of Homer's description of Ihe rock of Sisyphus is worth careful study ..lIi Discussio n of the association of sounds goes back perhaps to Democritus; it is a main theme of Plato'. C,at;·/Ul ; and thc later rhetorical tradition, repre.;ented by Dionys ius and Quintilian, makes a lot of it. [n Ctal.Jius, R repr~nts movement, l:J.ecause of the trill of the tongue; PS, X, S, PH (an aspirated P) produce a sense of agitation: D and T, in which the tongue rests against the tee th, display rest; the long open-mouthed vowels A and E denote size. This kind ofthoory, uased o n ouscrva tion of the mouth and tongue. does nOt say muc h about the aesthetic qualities of sounds, and in this respec t it differs from the precepts commonl r giw:n in the rhetorical traditio n. For Dion ys ius, for example, L is 'sweet' , R 'noble', and S disagreeable if used in excess: ;\ 1 and N ma ke a noise like a horn; and the order of e uphony of the vowel s is A E 0 U I - in o ther .....o rd s, the thinner, front vowels are the least allrae li vt. 31 That poetS usc, · (.onginu,· '9,22. '" l)em~"iu, 48 . ..., Quinlili~n 8.3.20 (on Virgil". '""iguu, mu' ). ,. Sec al",,"c , Ch~p'cr IV , . ., D, ''''''(Jonl;"", ..,/00",.. I~. J.J
",
Criticism in Anliqlliry
or invent, words which reproduce or strongly suggest natural sounds is an obvious extens ion of this way of thinking: Dio Chrysostom discourses at length on Homer's kanachi, bombos, JIJUPOS, and so 011.:18 So we have Iwo a pproaches to the sounds of words: the mimetic and the aesthetic. [n the p ractice of poclSVirgil for example- we can see booth in use. For our present purpooe, it is lhe mimetic that matters; Twining's 'imitation by sound' was clead y recognised in antiquity, while Plato at least tried to see an aCI of mimicry in the ph ysical movements which form the leiters rather than in the resulting noise. 9 T he seco nd area \0 which the te rm mimiJis exte nds has at first sig ht nu mure than an accidental connec tiun with the main sense of the word . It is that of the 'imi tation' of earlier writers by later. This is, in iL'itlf, very important in the history of cri,ieisTTl. [11 classica[ Greek [iterature, Lyric poet! fulluwcd the sto ri es, and sometimes adapted the language. of e pi c, and this hlet was obvious an d widely recognised; morrover, the development of the variou~ genn:s proceeded by a proc<"$ of improvement on existing modds, and this too was recognised, not only for draTTla, but for fourth-cen tury oratory. When we c:ome to Hellenistic: times, we encounter a literature which is almost entirely 'mimetic' in this sense, deriving its inspiration not so much from immediate pn:a ecessor; a s from much carlier 'classical' modcls. Roman literature, again, was, in most formal respects, a reproduction of Greek. In these conditions, wha t makes a work good or bad? It is possible \0 identify at leas! some of the criteria " 'hich ancient critics used to distinguish acceptable imitation from what they called 'theft' or plagiariSTTl (klopi.f~rtum ) ." Th ese were, firsl, ,hal ,he copy should be ac: knowlcdgcd as a copy and be recognisable ; second ly, that the writer should stamp his mark on the material, and so make the borrowing 'his own property' ; and thirdly, that what was ,. OW"" " .WII: (Append;., ['. ,8, ). ,. I ha."" di.cuoscd ,hi. in mon: detail in an asay tk ,"';lal;'" in e"al;", 'm,lalu,R a..t lAli. Lik.al.", ed. D. A. West and A.J. Woodmau, Cambridge '979, , If.
M imfsis
I I3
imitalcd should not bcjUSl some particular feature but a sign of a general ('"cellenee perceived in the model which could be achieved anew in a fresh setting. The links between this theory and the gtneralliterary th eory o rmimisis are te nuou s; but there is an important poinl of resemblance in the insistence on the need for general understanding of the model ralher dlan meeh· anical or (as we might say) phOlographic copying. 1I is the practical cril ici~m based on these principles which c" ciu:s our inleTe,l; a fair specimen of il is CO bc found in the comparisons of Virgil a nd Homer which ;>"hcrohius inhcriled from earlier critics of Virgil. It is not an encouraging specimen. Macrohius offers Iitt Ie discussion of nuances or new a rra ngement ; instead, forced logical or fac,tual points form tbe staple of hi, cornmen t. 40 Once again , we must admit that, in an important department of literary eva luation, the normal prac,tice ofaneienl critic~ is quite inadequa te for the literalure they were considering. Only ·Longinus· relieves thr gloom: he makes worthwhile points about Ihe '",imel ie' relat ionships of DenlOsthen~"S to Eupolis, Euripides to Aeschylus, and Aratus to Homer."
"Sec (~ . ~ . ) .; . '3 .3' H'.. on Virgil"' imi,ation of Homer. descriptio" of Sirife. See al", AI'P",>di • . p. '93 If. .ongmu, , .3' '5. ; ro_ ..
...,
. .,
"
CIIAPTER ElGIIT
Rhetoric
Til lS cha pler is concern ed nOt with the general qu es tion of th" inAuenl'e on literature of oratory and its th eoretical coulllerpart, rhetoric, but with the more specific issue of the way in which rh etoric affected literary understanding a nd evaluation. [ ask not what the rhelor taug htlh e poet, but what he thought of him. Th ese twO questions are quite distinc t. That this is a cent ral issuc ~ hou ld be clear from much thai has been said above; indeed, it is prell y clearl y a sa lielll distinction of all cri ti cism dcrivcd from th e ancicIII model that the categories and presuppositio ns employed are la rgely based on rhetoric. By 'rhetor ic' here is meant a particular academic d iscipline, lh e subj ect laught und er that name in Greek and Roman schools from th e fifth century B. C . onwards. modified in mediaeval times, and la rgely rev ived in iL~ older form by the humani sts.' It enjoyed remarkable stabil it y throughout the classical millennium. If the pupils of Anaximenes in the fou rth century B.C . could have been transported eig ht hundred years on irno the school of Libanius, they would not have found it enti rely strange; th e Illass of new techn ical term s and distinctions to which th ei r m:w t ~achcr would have introd m:ed th em would ha rdl y ha\-e o bscured the familiar out lin es of the basic excrcist:s a nd lesso ns. Like a ll educational 's ubjects', rhetoric had vague boundaries. On o ne fro rnier, th e rhelOr held ground in common with the g'm~ma/i(us. Correctness of spcech-Htllinismos, iAlini/aJ1 Brian V;ck~ ... , C/""UQ/ RN/Oli( i~ &,/i'~ {'Miry ( ' 9]<1), ch. I, offen a conei", hi'torieal "I,",·~ y .
,,'
Rhetoric
is the first of the rhe torical virtues of style ; it is also o ne of the main objec ts of the grammarian's an. T he study of the deta ils of presentat ion and diction (choice and ar-rangcmem of woms, and also figures ), is vital to th e: o rator ; it is also wholly within the provin ce of the g rllm"'ll/i(us, since on e of his p rime tasks is to interpret in detail the class ical poets who were th e staple of education. On Ihe Olher fro ntier , the rhetor disputed terrilOry with the philosophe r. He did this partl y out of natural expan sion ism, adapting simpl ifi L-d philusop hi cal Ih~jtj as exercises in co mposition ; h ut partl y a lso as a meas ure of d efence against t he com mo n charge th a t his art was indi flcren t, or even host;le, \0 morality. T hese areas of interes t greatl y ex tended the rheto r's co ncern with literature in general; and this in turn widened the influen ce of rhetorica l thillking on the cri ticism ofpoetr)' and other li terary forms. Rhetoric claimed 10 leach 'pers uasio n'; th i. was ho w its teac hers generally defined its e nd_prod uet. l T he rhetor accord. ingl)' saw the st udy o f the poets and Olher grea t write r.; as a means to this end. Such stud y was suppl emen tary to thoore tical prece pt and to actual pra ct ice. In early times, it was merel y a convenient ancillary; the pupirs ex ist ing kno wledge o f Homer and tragedy could be put to good use in helping him to frame a cOl wi ncing speech. I n lat er periods, ho wc\'er, in the Gree k woriJ
Co,!.,,., 4.'i3A (:Itt E. R. Dodd, ' DOle); Quin,ili." ' Cf abo,·~. o,apler I :1.
~ -' 5 . 4
If.
,,6
Criticism ill Alltiqlliry
embarked upon in ignorance of illl end. In a sense, everything has to be settled before you put pen to paper. The content and fonn of the speec h depend on a preliminary assessmen t of the situation and of the character and attitudes of the persons who have to be convinced. Any 'analysis of literature undertaken as part of rhetorical instruction has therefore 10 expose the workings of the writer's mind on these lin es. This is a si mple matter when the object under examination is, for example, a speech in Homer or V irgi l, and it is this kind of material to which the rhetorical critic is specially attracted. We S~ this attitude in Quintilian '~ discussions of Homer, Euripid e!! and Aristo_ phanes; and there are good examplC$ of'practica l criticism' of the Same kind in the later pseudo- Dionysia n treatises on 'fig urative discourses', and many echoes of il in the ancient commentaries on Homer and Virgil.· The critic who reads and comments in this way necessarily cons iders the situation, the m~llw. or h~fHJ/hais, which the epic poet or dramatist has set up, ,.. oomething given, and not itJlCtf no rm all y to be cr;ticisedjust as the inventor (fo:/OT) of a ccm/1Qllrfrill is normally not to be blamed for the foolishness of pupils' answeTll to the problem he has sct. So the kind of critique of plot on grounds of coherence and appropriate ending which Aristotle practises in the POdia is aOsent from the rhetorical mode of critici sm. Btl! of course it is not only lhe speeches in epic or drama which are susceplible to the rhetor's procedures. Narrative too i.\ a technique studied by rh etors: darity, orderliness and the capacity to convince by an allractive, well-contrived- and perhaps dishonest-tale are qualities which rhetorical teaching naturally so llght to develop. H istory is thus easily drawn into the orbit of rh etoric, especiallY sin ce the composition or formal speeches had been com monly held to be a necessary part of the historian's work since the time of Thu cydides. The analysis of T huc ydides by Dionysi lls, able as il is, is ..cry little concerrwd with historical research.! AI the same time, th e third main divi$ion of oratol)·- the 'epideiclic' or 'panegy ric' kind , the o ratory of praise and blame- easily embraced the subject• Some c.a'TIl'lco bel<>w. Appendi., p. '93. 'W . K. PritchcH, Diq•.J';."" O. Hwt;,JjJ<j ('975 ) gi ,'co a , ·cry ful l comment .. )· and t .. mtation.
Rht/{Jric
"7
mau er of most lyric poetry, lor whic h indeed it was, historicall y speaking, a substitute, The extre me point of this development can be see n in Hermoge nes, tur whum the term ' panegyric' has come to indude history, philosophy and poe try.6 In the end, therefo re, the rh elOT'S look all literature as their province, and encouraged the kind of ana lysis and criticism that suited their purpose. Th is was to the detriment of aesthet ic judgmem, and mo re o r less hloc ked the wa}' to a historical view ofliterature, With the moralists - and a ncient edu ca tion was essentially moral - rhewric maintain ed a complex rela tionship: o n the defensive kost she be thou gh t amoral, she presented herself mo re and more as the guard ian not on ly of pure and effec tive language bu t of the highest moral values of the past.
, How did all this co me about ? It was gene rally belie\"(:d in the tim e of Aristotle that rhetorical teaching had b.:gun in Sicil y, in the aftermath of the fall of the fifth-century tyrannies in Syracuse and other cities. Democracy brought much litiga tion and political speaking; this in turn brr.d a demand for effec tive instruct ion in th e skills uf speech, un whic h propeny and life mi ght depe nd. Cora:.: and Tisia., were rem e mbered as famou s tcache"l and innovalOrs, thou gh linle is know n of their doctrine. An earlier and more famous Sicilian, Ih e Jlhilosophcr Empcdoeles, was believed by Aristolle to be the first in ventor; a later one, Gorgias of Lcontini, is credited with the first teaching of th e art at Athens. T his last story is false , or at best a partial truth; bu t Athens, with its democracy and its jurrcourts, was the na tural scene for the rapid grow th or the techni que. It is clear from the earl iest ex tant oratory, that of Antiphon, and from many fea tures in Thucydidt"S, Euripides and Ari sto phanes, that j ufO"l, as.."",bly"'en and Ih eatre_ audiences a ll appreciated " certain professionalism. At iL~ lowest level, this amoull ted 10 set forms of exordium and peroration. a recog nit ion of the importance of the occasion and th e courtesr due to the hc'Hers. Dicacopolis, the ' hero' of Aristo-
,.
• Hnm<:>gl'" ~04,:' ~ I Ral ... (.-/ LC :'7:' r. ). cr, bdo"'. Chapter I X
,,'
Crili(iwz in Antiquity
phanes' Adulnriall.<, is made to address his fdJow..;ilizcns with a (llptDlW bc
.~{As",id'"
417 If.
'Pf)cri bcd for I'roo<:mia. lIuI .. Ie... iblc man oughl nol to I>c co" .. nt jun with haL'ing mo •• than an)'on~ die to ... y a bout a giHn subj«:l, but, in ony .ubj<:(;t. to k«p hi. cy. On opportunity (tLt1'~i'i~):
RhtlQric
[ [9
took this stand - if he really did - remains uncertain. Perhaps it was a reaction ag'linst dIe freer spirit ofCice mn ian rhetoric, perhaps a coutlierpart in the sphere of invent ion and arrange_ melll !U COlllem p!>r" ry 'At tieist' ins istenc., On puri ty orlanguage, perhaps merel y an attempt to justify the claim that rhctori e was a scie nce (.piiliml) not . imply an art (ItChlli), In any ca •." it was an eccentric view." Yet rhetoric was always a rigorous discipline. It had arisen in a period of un paralleled inquisitiveness a nd dou bt. It e ncou raged hard thinking, verbal and logical ingen uity, and shrewd psychol ogical ohservation. In its long cen lUriC'! of arid scho lasticism, it ne\'er 'luite lost its edge _ It is the refore somethi ng of a misunderstand ing when writers on allcient lite rature treat the inlluenr.e of the rhetor ical «: hool5 as e nt irely negative and destruc tive. T he mista ke, now less commOn than it was, <:nmes partly from la king PI"to\ polemic as a decisive condemnalion, partly frorD rcgarding rh etoric ilS basica lly an art of verbal embellishmen t, not of reaS<)ning _ I t is obvious thaI rhelOrical teaching hel ped to shape the work of many o f the grea t pox ts and his torians of antiquity, and that Ihis forma ti\'e influence was also an inhibiling one; but both the good and the bad in all this were du e less to rhetor i c'~ concern with the ornaments of speech than to the ralion al framework which she sought to impose on whate,"er them e Or top;'; was handed he r for treatme nt.
3 T he conser\'a t ism of rhctoriCid t(a,-,hing OV<:T sucl, " long p<:riod makes it possihle to gi\'e an a<:oount Qf il as a sysu:m, ba_<;ed on the late text. books wh;';h \Urvi.-e, without feding tha I nne's e<-mel usiolls ,,,"<:: likely to be ru ndamen tall y wrong for the ",,,'Iier period_ Quimilia" is und oubtedly the best guide, the 'Ariadne's thread' through the la byrin th, as R ichard Vol k_ mann said in his st ill unreplaced survey of Ihe whole tield ." "cr, al>o"~, o,apu. tV 7"RA'MiA "n G,i«h", ud RImu •• , cd , ~ (,885) ~, "i : 'Einen c<wYII",I"ell Aria
Criticism in Anliquiry
""The classical di vision of the subject reflects a poim 10 which I ha ve already drawn attention more than on ce: the assumptio n that content and linguistic form are quite separate. ' Things ' we re the subject of thaI part of the discipline of rhclOric whi ch was called 'invention ' (invmtio , hturtsis), and embraced the procedurCl! for 'discovering' what may usefully Ix: said in a given situation. ' Word s', o n the ot her ha nd. were stu died sepa rately, under the lWO main heads of 'choice' and 'a rrangement ' . The concep ts of 'arrangement' and 'figuu' could dearl y be applied both 10 'things' and 10 'words'; and il was in th e discussion of'figu res' of thoug ht and ofs peech \hal th e rhe torical tradition came neares t to admilling that the two
depanm",nts w CT'" not really ~eparable . AU these dements of the art depended on memory for their retention a nd effecti ve use, and o n delivery (actio, lIuJI6krisis) for the ir a cceptabilit y to th e audience. SQ a comprehe nsi ve course in rhelOric- as we can see in Quinti!ian's Imtilulio, a sort of teacher's manual cove red fi ve main subj ec lS : invention, anange menl , diet;..,n, delivery, memory. T he ' things' of which the orator had to trea t might be either 'definite' or ' indefinite'. A teacher like Quintilian envi sages hi~ pupil, as practising both types of them e: not only ' Is M anlius aiming at tyranny?' bu t 'Is the world governed by providence?' And whate" e' th e su bj ect, ce rtain b asic q uestions are the sa me: in order to develo p this general theme we need to a sk, for example, wh ether prov idence exists, what it is, and what sort of thing it is. Beyond this, th e pro<:edure de pend s largely on the purpose o f th e speec h, tha t is to say, on whether it is fo rensic, deliberative o r 'e pideictie'. ' Epide ictic' subjects involve both the actions of the penons praised O f b lamed and their consequences ; the speech will be mainl y concerned with the antithclical topic. of ' honour' and 'exped iency'. In deliberati ve ora tory, we have to engag e not on ly in these questions bu t in die quest ion whether the proposed course of action is feasi bleor not. Obvio usly, stud y o f th e characterist ics of the audi ence is particularly important , since th e outcome rests on enli sting their sympat hy. This is true also of forensic cases; but these ma y be much more complicated, for th ey may involve the organisation of man y different debating topic~ into a single whole , di rected
Rhr/olic
",
to the ach ievement of the very specific goal of an acquitta l or a
convi ction. Forensic oralQry is thus seen as the nowll of the who l<: al·t : the massi,'" I"r" nsi" ' ""cdl"s of O" "'<Js lh"",~. Acschines and Cicero are the dominant moods, to be st udit'tl and analysed in deta il. I t is therefore to forensic speeches that Ihl:' funJ a ml:'ntal analysis into partS beSt applit"S, This a nalysis g0e') ba ck to tb e early d ays of rhe toric , 1.1 and , despite wm ~ vaci lla tion oftcrminology, never changed in its essenti a ls. T here arc alwilYs five milin parts to a speec h: exordium to co nciliat e the juryman , nil rra ti ve 10 instrucI, proof 10 eslilblish you r CilSC, refula li on to o"ert hrow thaI of your opponents. a nd perorati on to refres h the memory or excite th e appropriate emot io n - pity or in d ignation, as the r,ase ma y br, . Th e most elaborat e branch o f the doc trine of ,invention ' , the theoryof status or slasis I4 - ' iss ue', 'standpoin t' - also arises from fo rens ic considerations, and pri maril y from the prob lems of delendants. T here are traces of it as early as Antiphon"s Trlra/ogifJ , hut th e main authority was the Hellenistic leache r Hermagoras, 15 until his work was rep laced hy tlu: more elaborate systems of the Roman pe riod. Essentiall y, Ihe teacher aimed to suggest to his pupil a wa y of cl assifying the pro blem presented tn him , Thus: (i) I f the matt er a t i"s u<: is uncertain- that i, 10 sa}" , if there is a q uestioll o f fact - th e case falls under th e Sia /us cOll/fe/utali, (s/fKhasmOf). Suppose a man is discovered bu rying a corpse in a lo nel y place, and is a ccused of murde r. We ha ve to discover what actually happened. (ii) But Ihe facts Ill ay he clear : it ma y he quite cenain thaI he ki lled the man . \\'e must then ask whether h is actio n fa !ls under th e definition of murder, and was not , fo r example, humic ide committed in self-defence. T his is the sia/us dffi"ili(:w. (hcrismus)• " It i. ""~n auribul<:ful ,ummary in English. Soc also Kennedy, A,'.! P"'.aJion in (,',
'"
Crili!ism i~ Antiqui!J
(iii ) II may indeed have ocen murder - but all the same il may have right: the victim may have been a would-be tyrant. So we haH to as k afte r the quality of the act- was it just or expedient or nOl ? T his is th e 5Ial~~ qualilali~ (~I(llis poiolilos). (iv) And finally, in d espair as it were, the defendant may plead Ih"llh" coun i. nOI compet ent: th is is the SI4I'<$ IramlaIi.·us (mtlalipsis) . Man y other terms and refinements arc found and rhet ol1l engaged in stirring cont roversy over them. We neL-d not dwell on them here, for this kind of thi ng, however mu ch it enco uraged shrewd ness in the a nalysis of sit uat io ns, has lillie bearing On the cri ticism o f poetry o r non- rhetorical prose. Thl""SC maltel1l of 'invention' occupy the centra! books of Quintilian'$ b l$lilulio; it is his su mmary that has guided us so far. From Book VIII oll"'aros, he COncerns himself wilh slyle, which he regards as both a more difficult a nd a more necessary su hj cct .•6 SI yliS\ ic failu re, not fa ilure in a.-g um cnl al ion, has, in Quin tilian's view, produced the canupla doqut~tia aga inst which he i~ ca mpai gn in g. Fro m our present standpoint, it is ve ry interesting that a teacher of rhetoric should say this. It SL"<:mS to be characteristic of the imperia l period. Rh etoric, in QUintilian's hands, is evidellll~' no longer a purely vocationa l train ing; it has acquired much of the eha raet ("'f of a general literary erluca tio n, wi lh a ~Iron g e th it::al e lemen t, and it seeks to impart a type oflilcrary taste a nd prac tice which reflects sound moral alii tudes. This is not done, howeve r, by confining the student to books of acknowledged mora l va lu e, for that would not fit in a t all with the co re of the curriculum, the rhetorical masterpieces occasioncd by the chicaneries and eva~ions of an cien t At hcn ian assemblies a nd courlS. Instead, it is done by drawing the p upil's attention above all to style, and associating stylistic 'good' a nd 'barl' with moral qualities. So it is not o nl y th e st udy ofhistorit::al events and pel1lonalities, but even more th e fo rmal stud y of classical writin gs, that becomes the main ve hicle of mo ral indoctrination. Thi..cons idcration pcrhapsalso hel ps one to Und Cr1l1and ' Longin u'. '· 81', . 13·
RlulM;e
" 3
4 We shall return to style later. '\'Ieanwhile , there are still some points 10 be made abo Ullhe ways in whic h the theoryof 'inven+ tio n' mig ht a tfl:ct thl: a ppreciation and und erstanding of the poets. These points arc perhaps mos t clearl y made by adducing examples. [ select fi rs t o ne which illustrat es the wa y ill whi ch the expectatio ns aro used by rh eto ric al tear-hing a hout the ~ hapc a nd fo rm o f a speech affected th e judgme nt passed o n poe m~. Quintilian's fam ous chapter on authors to he imita ted cOntains :t part ic ularl y elabora te di sc ussio n of Ho me r, Ihe uni. vl:rsa l geni us a nd 'invent ur of rhe tori c', in who m a ll virtu es can he seen. Here , Honlt:r;, all eged 10 be ca pa ble bo th o f ell:vation whe n the su bj ec t r~'<]uires it, and of' proprie ty' wh ere eleva tion is OUI o f place. This is a n Aris to telian tou ch: the poet's language must ",: ver be 'low' , even when his theme is a n evcryday one. Ho mer in fact com hines in himsclf tile capac it y for the mos t diven;e qualities : ri ch",:ss as well as compression, cha rm as well as gra vit y, a bu nda nce as wel l as concbe ness. Natu rall y, he is a mod el fo r the kinds o f e pideic tic di scourM: wh ic h one m ight expect to Hnd in poe try; but he ca n also teac h d eliberativ~ and fo rensic skills. Willl ts~ the Embas, y in Iliad IX and the debat ~-s in Iliad n. He has a co mprehensive range abo in emot ional lOn e, ~'n~ompassi ng bo th palM, Ihe stronger emotions , and i lki , the mil de r Ira its of mann ers. In 'Longinu_~' , tht:st: twO qua lilies art: attribut ed [0 the Iliad a nd the Odyssry rcspec tivc ly; Qui nt ili a n a pparent ly ma kes no such distinc tion , a nd a II his e xa mples arc Iliad ic. He proceeds t he n to enumera Ie the trad itional five ' pans o f a speec h' and to show how Ho m", "ffer.. mod el .. of a ll. In th is he d"u ht les, f"llo ws a n ~" l a hlis hed tra dition fo r the prai se of Ho mer 's prolog ues is \0 be seen ;!Iso in Horace,17 th oug h Quinti lian gi ves it a more cun "enti nnal turn. Home r, he says, illustrat es to perfect ion th e rul e that the prolog ue m ust ma ke th e hearer btnevo{um aI/til/urn doei/mi , welldisp<»;ed, ale rt a nd read y to learn. T he virtu es of na rrative - vividncs~ and conciseness- are also perfectly illustrated by
"4
Critici=
j~
AntiqUl!J
such incidents as the death of Palroclus and the battle of Ihe Curetes and Aetolians. The value of his argumentation - the next main point-is proved, Quintilian thinks, by the frequency with which technical wrilers draw on him for examples; and finally no epilogue could ever equal the prayers of Priam to Achilles. IS Th is e ncomium is a tour-de-force; it i. m"'ant as a serious encouragement to th e young orator to go back 10 the readingofhis childhood , and look at it afresh in the light orhis adult needs. 5
M y second example i. of a diffe ren t kind . It concerns not the parts or elements of a speech o r a poem, nor the ~tylistic
qualities, but what is called the 'figure' ($Chima) ; Ihe question al issue is the rela tionship betwee n prim afacie form and underlyi ng purpose. T eachers of rhetoric were as wc have already observ"d ".pecially int"reot"d in ,h" compl"xi,y of,h"ITl" to be fo und in forensic speeches. Analysis of the purpose and exec u· tio n of the famous orations of antiquit y, especially th ose of DeITlosthcnes, was a favourite pu rsu it of the schools ; and the kind of analysis which was developed could be easily extended to othn branches of literature. There was, for exampl e, considerable d chate about what were called 'fig ured ' speeches (logoi uchimatismtnoi), in which the ostensible intention of a pie.:::e could be he ld to be different from the real olle : Dcmosthenes' D tcQTllna, for instance, was not only ad efellce in cou rt , but a lsoa deliberative and e nco ITl iastic oration , and th ese h.lIe r aspects were in some ways morc important than th e nOITlinal purpose. It was clearly possible to a pply this sorl oflechniquc to 000oratorical lite rature. A late rhe tor -one of the authors of the Art oj R!utor;( anributed \0 Dio o~ius, though not the aut hor of the chapte rs on declamation to which I drew a ttention in Chapter l - coITlpmed two short m :atises on ' figured speeches' (logo; tschimatismeno;), in which he spec ul ated in quite interes t_ ing ways on the whole subject. H is analysis of a play of " '0. I _ .6If, (In C 387 f.J. ' r all"clu,' death · ;. the beg inning of I/. 18, 'the b.ttle of Cur"t", and AelOtia",·. fl. 9..... ' 9 If.
Rhtloric
"5
Euripides, Mtlallipln Iht Wiot IVoma~ , illUSlrates his method. '9 I n I his, he sa)'S, there are two figures (schlmala), one of Ihe poel' s, and the other Ihe eharaCler to.lclanippe's_ Eu ripid es, being a pupi l of Anaxagoras, wished 10 present Ihal philosopher' s vi ews on creation to the public. H e does so in a speech of ,\Idanippe, and 'covertly conveys' (ainilltlai) his respec t for the doctrine and his leacher by mak ing M danippe prt'faee he r exposition by saying 'Not mine Ihe lale- I had it fmm my mother.' T his is a sign 10 Ih e audio;nec, it appears, that the doctrine is verll'rable. At the same lime, the character Melanippc is herself employing a 'figure'. She has exp.osed her ch ildren (who are Poseidon 's) in her f,'\lher's co ....shed, and Ihey a rc tound being suck led b y a cow and gu arded by the bull. H er father lakes Ihis as a supernatura l event, d ecides 10 burn the children, and o rders her 10 prepare them for d ea th. T o save Iheir lives. she d e mo nstratcs scientifIcally lhat nO miraele has ta kcn place; SO . he accom plishes her end nOl by a direct plea but by Ih is 'scie ntific discourse in didaCti c form ' . The o rator, it would appea r, ca n lea rn from Ihis also ; he need nO! PUt f<)rward hi s (;a<;e direc tly, but ma y let convic tion comc ofils own accord from what appears on Ihe suri"ce to be dis<:oursc of a different kind .
6 In a noth er p:u~a ge, ~ little later on, th e ~a ",,: rhet or links Xenophon wilh Homer. zo H is lext iSl he passage in th e Anabasis ..... here the Greek soldiers come 10 suspect that the exped ition is against th e King, and are ullwilling 10 go further. Their general Clearchus undertakes 10 deal with Ihis si tuat ion . He addresses thcm , promisi llg to follow the .oldi ers e"crywherc, but a rg uing for Ih e necc&
,,6
Gri/ids", in Antiquity
Pho.:nix asserts that he will go where Achill es goes, and can no t be separated from him, this being part of Pho.:nix's attempt to ~rsuade Ach illes not to leave the army. 'Nominally he shows wh y h e h;mse!fmUSl sta y, but in fact he is asking Ihe return of
the favours he did Achilles in rearing and educating him, and also doing a favour to Agamemnon.' Sint:e Achilles answers thi s by saying '00 not break m)' hear! with your grief and complai nings, Doing Agamem non a fa,'our"
he shows that he has s~n through Ph oeni x's device. T his means that H omer- once again the rhclOrs' master - has leI us also see what is happening: he 'reveals the an of the first spea ker in the speeches of the res pondents' _ Such discussions, not uncommon in ancient commentaries on Hom er, arc diffic ult to follow unl ~ one reads the texts closely ; but they are undoubtedly acute and, within thdr limitations, must have helped to . harpe" thc pe rceptions of the reader.
7 What Homer was to the Grcl'ks, Virgil becamc to the Roman s. H is commentators adopted similar tcchniques. Thus, when Juno begs Aeolus to raise a ~torm and wreck Aene a-!' nee!, promising him the nymph Deiopea in rctum,l' this i~ seen as an illustration of a rule of'invelllion': if you make a request, it must be within your power, just and reasonable and yuu mu~t offer remune ration. Again, things are sometimes found in the poet which appear to go against the usual rhetorical rules. When Aeneas, II in the middlcofhis narrative of the Sack of T roy, cries 'Alas ! It is wrong for anyone to trust the gods againstlheir will' the cO'llmentator offers an c"cuse. Normally, a general ~tate ment with no reference to the special circumstances would be a fault. But here it is appropriate. It applies to Ihe captivity of Cassandra, shortly to be mentioned: she had trusted in her position as priest~, and is to be brutally dtteived. It also serves as an argumelll to show that the Trojans could not have "A,Mid 1.6S, with Sc,,,iu,' commen t.
"Atuid ~.40".
"7 won however bravely (her fought; and AC IH;a s' narrative of
defeat needs this if he is !O maintain his pres tige as a fighting man. Comments on th~ actual form of S pC~dl L-S are a lso commo n. T here is a very beaulil'ul and moving speech of Anna to Dido nca r the b" g inning or th e fourth book of the ,\cn eid , in whi.;h she delicately urges her sisler lowards marriage with Aeneas.1J Sen.·jus· rhetorical comment is unusually detailed. He rega rd s Ihe speech as a com p lete JuaslFria, in which the spea ker r(moves objectio ns to the proposed coufSe of aClio n, d emonstrates ils c"p.:d ieney (hOllO ur hardly comes in !), and pre5.".'S the <;<1.'1<: hy an appeal \0 fear. He points OU! that Anna begins by de monstrating her love of her sislero dearer
[0
)"our sis tf f tha"
th~
day -
and the n proceeds at o nc e to the hear! of the mail er. \\' ha t follows is a ve r y close an a lys is, following a set form of approach : Then she ta kes up the ,-,,1'ioo5 aSpttlS of lhe question : (i) Dido's personal ily : shou ld she take another husband hecau.,e she has l05t one ? '00 you thin k ashes ~ nd buried spirits ca re for lhis?" (ii) Aeneas' personality: 'Will you figh t c,-cn a love you li ke ?' (iii) l'la~e : '00 you not consi der in whose coo ntry ~-ou have >C lIled ?' (i ,-) Fear: 'Why $hou ld I tell of wars rising out of T yre and your brother'S menaces?' (v) Expediency: 'Whal a ci ty will )'OU beh old here !' (vi) Method: ' Extend his wekome, make reason, for dday .' (vi i) (,.onjnture "bout tile gods' intent ion : 'I Ihink it is ",it h the gods' f"vour . " that his $hip' came (hi, way.' Som~",ha t
simil ar is t he discussion of Aen eas' reply 10 Did o later o n in the sam e bookY T hi s is ill H!rmS of slalus t heor y: Ae neas uses the status of exc use (s/atus vellialis),"' putting the respons ibility I(,r his departure o n th e gods, bill it a lso involves a ]XIi"t of 'definition': he remOveS the objeclio n thaI he is 'running away' by ca lling il 'de panure' , We know that cu tai n teac hers of rhetoric, by name T i[ianus and Ca!vus, pe r haps in
" ","t!" ." J '1.3' n·, 2< Amtld ~. 3~3 tl'. " For Ihi. >«, <,g" Hcrlllogcn •• 39, ' , :
( t'orlUllaliallu,) ,
7~ , ~
Rahc ; Hahn Rl, _11 93, 3' If.
,,'
Crilicism in Anliqui!y
the semnd century .... D.. used Virgil extensively in their leaching. and we re partic ularly co ncerned 1<) illustrate Slolus thCQry from him. 26 R estrictive ;and mec h;l1lica l as much of il is, such criticism had a long history. It persisted in th e R enaissance commentari es, and es pecially in the great and influential work of the Jesuit La Cerda.» Somet hing like it is commun in modem ana lys~ of classical texts ; and the technique. of the ancients still have something to teach .
.. x...;", (lfl AmtiJ
'0.'
f. " Fim puWish«l Mad.-id ,608.
CIlAPTER ..... II<[
Theories of Style , thoories of style grew up almost entirely in the context of a certain kind of rhetorical instruction, or perha ps om: should say philu!IOphical rhetoric . T he third book of Aristotle's Rhf/or;{, :md the lo,t work of his pupil T heophrastus, represent the earliesl attempts 10 set out till: principles. One of our mos t important !IOU rces, t he surv iving trea lise of Demet rius, is in the >;amc Iradit ion and has ,\ SI rong Pcripa letic st rain in it, Stylistic theory was of course of general litera ry conr.ern and dealt with poct~ as wel l as with prose-writers ; but it is important to remem_ ber that its origins were rhetorical, and its purposes primarily norma live rather than descriptive. Its Illost elaborate a",hie"ements, such as the refined soph istries of H crmogcnes, are manifestly part of the rhetorical teachi ng programme of an archa ising age, 'Style' is a term of which any critic must formulate his own definition , in accordance with Ihe needs of his own way of ta lking about literature, But however it is used , il implies a con trast with an clement of content, and the assumption that the message might theore tically at least have been conveyed in some other way _ The mon: soph ist icated the thL>Ory, and the more attention it pays to p
'30
Criticism in Antiquity
Whal t he Greeks called luis, ph'Mis Of htrlllin.i~ , the Romans o:alled diclio o r docutio: Ihey mea nt, quite simply, the verbal dress of thoughL Th e metaphor commonly used to express the relation was indeed that of clothing or orn a ment. l T h is wail no doubt simplc.m inded. Bu t it is not true that ancient writen saw no difficulty in the matt er ; on the contrary, the inconveniences of fixing a frontier between the l.ktikoJ lo/I'Js and t he pragmalik05lopos were often fell. The complexities orthe doctrine of 'figures' are ev id ence of that. And i\ is rertainly {cue of Dem etrius and H ermogenes, and indeed of , Long in us' and Aristid cs and the whole tradition which they represent , that Ihey do not think of I.xis a s a wholly independent thing. All Ihese wrlten agree in denying, in their praoice, that the charaklires logon (' types of discourse' ) are wholly definable in terms of vocabulary and word-order. Content comes into it also. To achieve a cenai n effect, the writer need s to control his choice of thought , his handl ing, his figur"" and finall y his dic_ tion ,,,,d his arrangement. The re i. a good deal of unde ... tanding, in practice, of the organic (onnection between form and content. Th is con nection is indeed seen in term s of the doctrine of decorum, an d of the assumption that 'gn:at word s suit grea l Ihings, and little words little things'. I suggcstcd above 2 Ihal this was somethi ng which se riousl y limitoo the power of the ancient critics to see their literature clearly. It did however save them from an op posite error, to which their highly verbal culture might well be thought prone, namely the eval uat ion of literature solely by the quality and harmony of its words. There are two general obse rvatio ns which may be useful in helping to define the characte ri stics of the ancient doctrine uf I(xis, and to clear it some associations which attach to the modern term 'style' but are not relevant 10 ancient wa ys of t hinking. The fi rst is that these terms lexis and ph rasis, 11;
or
fomle<:! by nccklac.. and pea rl. and long drc$OQ, ,,·hich adorn "'omen; nor would the robe of the "iumplulw,. Ih" which one can think of nothing more aug"". >,,;. ""men: W. ohould re"
Thc&ritS &J SI)'lt
, 3'
mO\'t:mcnt of tht: pt:n, f:xtcnds, in co mmon usage, tn all sons of ac!ivities. 3 ' Style of life' is a metapho r unthinkable in Gree k or Latin. Secondly: 'style' in modern usage is very much an individ u;ol rna Iter. We thi nk of it as a kind of finger-print, uniq uc to every individual, and interes tingl y unique to eve ry interes ting individual. Something like this is of COUTSe fOllnd in antiqllity. Th.: style of a grea t exa mplar, Lysias or D.:mosth.:tlo, is naturall y called the ' Lysian ' o r ' Demosthenic ' (horak/iT. The fac t that sensitive criti cs sometimes felt SUTt: enough 10 identify authOn< by thdr style points the s;O"'O; wa y. Vet the maxim. lotiS orat;o qualis Villi, a wa v of sayiug th a t 's peech re([ crts life', ' ocerns to b~ of a differo;n t appli ca tion altogethn. It ass.:m that specr h i, an indication of the moral charact eristics of the spea ker, marking not his individuality, but his type , This is in accordance with th e general a ncien t view of character, as we see it for exa mpl e when w.: obs.:rve the biographies of Plutarch and th e wa~'S in wh ich th ey di ffer from th e individualised biographies of mod em times; l th ere is not hing surprising in finding th is atti tude prt'valem \Il views of IiteTatuTC as well as in views of life and morals.
, A word of warning is also no;ef:l;sary. \ Ve a re vt:ry re mOt e from these [a"g uag~"', a nd o ur St;n.l ibilitks, howe"cr r,a rcfull y train ~-d, a re very imperfect. We ha ve therefore often to take it for gra!lt~d th a t word s aCluaUy madt: the impres.~ion they are said by our sources to make. 1\"ow th is is no t at all a safe assum ption ; Hermogenes lived ftve centuries after De mos then cs, and he (like the rcst of the rhe toTS ) was in hu siness to gi"e co nftdent j udg men t" eve n if th ey wHe n()[ .. [wa rs I.",.~ed On " ~o u"d !len,;., of the class ical la nguage. Consequently, the discrimination of styles ill Creek a nd Latin, une of the main achit;\"t;mentS cl"im t;d by Ihe critit;S of a nti,]uily, is easie r 10 ad mire than to evaluate. ' X E.D . S." . "l'Ie 111 .<)-,.>6 gi,'C'S" range nf m~I"phoricaI e>len, ion •. ' cr. abo\"<, Chaplctl. l'l.r."h. " •• If.; and II. lIuc her· \st ... X""" • ..J foJ'"iJ•• liliil i. tin Bi6X,.phitJr Plu,art"', Bern ('970 ).
C,;/;rnm in AntiquilJ
, 3'
3 The tendency of Greek tho ught to proceed by d efin ing pairs of opposites is well known: day and night , right and left, male and
female sel a pattern of dichotomy on which much thinking abou t many subjects Wall inevitably grounded. It is no surprise thaI our earliest account of differences in stylistic tone shou ld be of this kind . The agiin betw"en Aesch yl us and Euripides in the Frogs is of course comic in purpose:6 both parties are mcan! to appear ridi culous. But the intended contrast is fairly plain, and the vocabulary seems 10 have inAuenced laler and more serious criticism very co nsid erably , Bolh wrilen oompose, of co urse, within the limits of tragedy, the nature of which is 10 be grandiloque n t. !fEuripides fails to maintain Ihi s grandeu r, the fa ilure is rdative: even th e traits which Aristophanes holds up to ridicu1c- 'Aethcr my pasture' and the like-are in th e grand manner. Now the ~pe<::ial qualities attrib uted to Aesc hylus arc plain cnu ul!Ih:
r~"$UundjJlg
magni loquenc e, b aKd largely
on compound words 'bo1led together', ,md powerful emotional effec ts, mosd)' related to the fea rs and exci tements experienced in war or d a nger. A, hi, subjects are larger than life, 'j() are his wo rds: 'great wnrds'. as he is made to sa y, are the necessary outcome of'great attitudes and thoughts'. This tells us nothing of the path os of Aeschyl us, the speculative power, th eoccasional realist ic humour; but it created a stereotype which laler authurs - notabl y Dio Chrysostom in his account of the three tragedians' Philoctetes pJays,7 but also 'Longinus'-accept without ques tion. In the Frogs, it is Euripid es, no t Aeschylus, who makes claims for his art. H e has found tragedy in an unhealthy state, a nd ha. put he r on a diet to sl im her duwn. He gives traged)' a new adornme nt in the shape of'mo nodi es', and a strictl y economical and inteUigible plot. D io Chrysostom'5 account of Euripides' Philorle/es makes th e same point : Aesch ylus did not bother 10 motivate the presence of his chorus of Lcmnians, while Euripides painstakingly ma kes them a pologise for their long neglect ort he crippled hero, in order 10 make the sit uation seem probable. A certain deg ree of realism IS regu• Cf. al>rn:e, Chapter II 2 (ALe II If.). ' (),.tW~ 5" ( ti LC .1'4 If.). cr_ abm'c, p _ 6].
'33 lar! y thought of as a Euripidean characteristic. But (h t stri ctly stylistic qualilits, as !\rislophanes sets [hem, arc no! so dear. We hear ufprccisiun (the key word is saphis, 'dear', 'd ist;nc\ ' ) , ck gancc (the key adjective is Ifp/os) , ingenuity, sha rp arguments , and word .. suit~d 10 the real world . In brief, Euripides deliberately avoids Ihe gr,,,,d words on which Aes<.;hylu> d epends, a nd lhe grand concep tions thai gu wilh them ; instead, I,,: gives his plays a stricter intellectual d iscipline. and the appropria te language of argume nt. I n term' ufthe effect un the hea rer, A..-schylus ';lma7.C<;' (tkplillti ),8 and stirs his audience to martial enthusiasm b y his hero;!,; images. This is ' Longinus" picture 100. Euripides, on the o ther hand , stimulates the mind by fo rcing us to think about the mrth ical si tuation and see it in terms of real Ii fe, A ristophanes' cri tiq ue of cou.-se is n<>1 a purely literary on e: he also secs the contnlst between the tWO poets
4 What is essent iall y Aristoph;l1les' diehowmy appe ars, though in various forms, as the mOSl widel y accepted class ifica tion of wh
~"d , l.ptixiJ, '~"'m;,hmcn", arc impO
",ilh my 1I0le tdloc_ • D, bo,"", 11.37 (AI£ 331 ).
",,,,,..,,,i.,,, ....
'.'>',
'34
Criticism ill AII/iq"ilJ
slightly unexpected pair, until we recall that they are commonly
opposed to each other in an ..,thkal sense, as 'pleasure' and 'honour'. Under hidonl come two sets of qualities. One is represented by pillu).1WII, 'persuasiveness'. This indude5 the notion of plausible argument, the appeal to th e rational; but it includes also an dem ent of in gratia lion. The other tenns- Mfa, {karl! and so o n - have to do with the euphony and elegance of discourse, not with its intelle<:lual OOnlent. On the othe r side, we have the qualit in which can be seen as varieties of ka/oll. It is al once noticeable that they do not include anything which muses fear, though in Arislophan",-and later in 'Longinus'this is an integral eleme nt of most forms of grandeuL Thi. omission does not seem to be due simpl y to the fact that Dionysius' subject is sun/huis, for he later 10 discusses Homer's ingenuity in adapting sound to sense in passages of pathos, f~ar or heroism. ~Iorwve r , when he comes to identify th<: main types of sUll/hais, these prove to be three in number'rough', 'smooth' (glaphura) and 'mixed' - and the 'rough' i . meant to express em01ion, and is exemplified by the work of Aeschylus and Thucydides. What we have in the list we are considering is essentially a (ontrast between the dignified and the charming; this i. an antinomy whic h has obvious social ovenoncs. It malters litt le that it is applied to sUll/llesis and nOl to Itlns in general. The dirrerences between this and Aristophanes are worth noting. In the Fwgs. Dion~'sus takes pleasure (hi&lai ) in Aeschylus, whom he chOO5es to ta ke back 10 earth, and yet Aeschylus' power lies in grandeur and tkplixis, for he ~hocks and stimulates by an assault on our primitive passions and fears. Euripides, as we saw, stands for ingenuity, realism , neatness or wurkmanship; he stimu lates us to exercise our analytical powers. In Dionysius' antithesis, neither of the two terms is quite the same. ' Pl<:asure' is act ually opposed to grandeurthough this may be only a verbal point of no significance- and ~ecms to stand for something inoftensive, lik eable rather than admirabk, and eliciting a response of painless acceptance; grandeur rouses respect ra the r than fear. Neither disturbs , and ne ither excites.
'35 The antinomy, in one form or another, had a long life, and outlasted man y changes of taste and circumstance. One ve rsio n of it is (he basis of the trealise of Demetrius, whose four rharaJ:lirt!, though he p roves th em to be ind ependent of one anoth er, naturally g roup th emselves into 1WO pai rs : th e grand (mega/IiprtpiS) and Ihe forceful (drinQs) stand opposed to the elegant (glaphuros) and th e plain (iuhnos ). Another, and simpl e r, appliea lion is lU b." found in I he m us ical w r i ICTAristidcs Quintilian us,
for whom th e opposing IOll l"S a rc quite simpl y idenli!led with ' male' and 'female'; even the use ura feminin e no un (limne) for th e ocean can be said to add 'charm' \0 a passage of Home r . II
,
This dichotomy represe nts the simples t possible answer to the qu estion what differences of lu is the re are. [( must a lwa ys be ' gra nd ' or 'n O( grand ' . But it d ,x;s nOt tell us 'wha t co nstitut es a good :;tyle', T h is ques tio n fi m comes \0 th e lro l\t in Aristotle , thoug h it must ha ve been di ~c u ssed from the ea rliest da ys of prose literature, sin ce, while poetry has othe r features besid e luis- metre and a ccompa nyi ng music - which contribute to its excelle nce, prose has o nly wonb and their arrangement, It is noticea b le that Aristotl e regards the p rob lem ra ised by some p red ecesso rs (perhaps Thcodeet tos) of how to make style ' ag reeab le' or 'grand ' (hidus, mrgallJprepis) as of no importa nce: these arc ' mora l \,irtu tos', not proper! r q uali ti cs of luis in itsdf. t2 Jr it is importa nt that /",is should give a n impressio n eon esponding to th ese qualit ies, that wilt fo llow fro m its possession of its own eu<:: ntia l virtu,;, . Th r:sc are corn:<;Inr:ss , darity , a certain measure of dignity (onko, ), and finally propri ety (pr,pon ), th a t is to say a ca pacit y to ada p t itsdf to the re'luin..-rl em otion, charac t"r and su bj ect-rna tier . T hi s theory of arela; (' "irtues ') is both intc!li g,;nt an d cohercnl. It "pplics to poe try a lso, with certain modifi catio ns : poetic;,llanguage avoids 'meann ess' in all ci rCU!llstanCcs,lJ not me rely in accordance with the demands of the part ic ula r sit ua tio n, and also adm its more foreign words and metaphors. The theory o f , virtu es ' has thus nothing "0 .8---9 ( AI.CS~' IL) . 11 RMID,i< r 4 r 4" :to , " I'otli<, r 4:;11" r 8.
'36
en"licism in Antiqui!y
(0 do wilh the distin ction of what we aTe callin g ' ton es' of discourse, whic h Aristotle cl early dismisses as sttondary an d irrelevant to his probl em in the Rhe/a.ic. T he d emand for onk()s should of co urse nOI hl: confus~..:I with a demand for 'grand eu r" ("'.galoprepeia) ; it is sim pi y a req uiremen t for that degree offul1ncs:; and dignity which d is tinguish es public utterance fro m private. The requirements of corrtctness - Hrllinismos, in Roma n writers Latini/as- and di stinClness (saphin.ia) are basic. Ariswlic is much impressed by tbe difference between the wriucll st yle, meant to be used in a cool hour, and the style of imprompt u speech , meant onl y \0 be heard. t. When we w ri te \0 be read , we no longer have exp ressiveness of voice o r gesture to help us in ma king our meaning dear. PunCllIa tio n and worddivision hardly existed in Greek a t Ihis lim e; and Aristode is comme ndin g a kind of akribtia ('exactness') w hich m aktll the wriu en wur d u nambiguous, even in t hese conditi ons. lsocrates had gone far to ach ie" e this, largely by Ihe careful syntactical control of his periods. Aristotle' s d octri ne of arelai was dev elo ped to some ex tent by TheophraSIlIS, who replaced onkof by kalasktui, IJ and probabl y a lso took the step of cha ra cterisi n g this as 'pleasing', thereby beginning th e process of connation be t ween 'virtutll' a nd ' tun es' which is nOticeable in many late r theori es. T h e Stoics, we a re wid, added sunillmia, 'conciseness', to the essentia l virtues; but basically the Peripatetic sc heme was laken for grant"d th roughout antiquity. Pollio 's famous remar k t hai Li\"y had ' Pata\";n itas' is a pa rody of it;16 it means simpl y that the h isto rian '$ IAtinilas was an infe rior, rustic j mitation; h" did nOI pO'lsess the SUfe grasp of gram mar a nd syntax th a t marks the conec!, urban spea ker." " Cf. ~ oo,"e, Chap'er II I I. " T hi, js a mo,.., ""Iernal f~alu": 'ornameol', 'p"",o"l.Iion' , rather th~n ',;u' . Cf. Cicero OrQUW }9. ,. Q"inoilian '.5.S6; K . Laue , CP 35 ( '9411) 56 f. (- KI,i", Sf"'if"" 1196 f.) . 11 h is ",,'e"'onhy tha! Aristotl. use> (urban, urbane, willy) ror tl>< quality tha, makCll clever expr"';I>n . urcClII!ful; RfI,j",ic S. ' <> (ALe 'SO, ,,·ith 1>I i... H ubbard'. not~). The town wa< though, '0 be 'he milieu in which the be.. Ipttch wa. fOUl,d ; " 'e may com""t lal~r Roman arrhai.ing I... ,,,, ,,·hich ~dmiT'" the conU:""ative language of housc·bound women (Cle. De ",al""
4'U'Q'
HS1·
Theorits ofSIJ'it
'37
[Il Dinny,iu_~
we fino a n elaborate form of (h e o'>ctrine o f 'virtucs', which he uscs rath!;r mer, hankally to dcscrihc the qualiti es of the classical o rators and historians ,' · ' Purity', ' d a rit y' and 'brevity' a re ' necessary' vi rtues, togc. th c.r with the prefe rence lor literal over metapho ri cal e:.:pression and Ihe ca pacit y to 'round off and turn ' Ihe thou ght - that is to sa y, to compose coherent periods, But Iher!; is also a range of ' addilio nal' vinues (tpilhtloi altlai) : viv id ness (margtia ), characle risne of writing ; they are , as :\riSl(>tle woul.-l put it, 'c\hica ll y' differentiated. T he sharp disti netion bet",ccn rharaktir and artli is now Ihoroug hl y blurred.
6 [I is in Ihe COnle:.:1 of\his blu rri ng that we sho uld consider (h e class ification of stylistic. 10n~"j\ im o three, nOt two o r ((JUr, ,q main r.ategori ~... whic h is the best known form or s~ y lis~i c th eory in the Rom a n timcs , This 't ripartitc sche mc ' is found aga in and again in Cicero, Dion ysius and Quinti[ia n ,1O I I was Iradil iona II)' iIlustra ted Out or Homer , thc (()unt of a ll wisdom , who was nat U rall y ima gined to have known this ,,1';0. 21 T he grand stylc a nd til(: plain were d escr ibed, il was believed , in lhe account of the o ralory or Od ysseus "nd lI,'l cnelaus in the third book of thc I1i(ld: Od ysse os' words 'eam e likt: tlt e sno ws of winter', while
"1,,,;4, ' 3.
" Four not onl v in U.'m~"iu" hut in IP1utarrh) l-if••1 11••", 73, M"'"robiu. Sal",,,,,/ia ~.l.i. I'rod", in Photi", rod . ~39 (..,e Appendix. p. 00' ). ,. Stt <sperially Cicero /I'MI., 4"; Dion)",iu, Ikmo;lht." , If. and 8 (AI.e 307 IT.) ; Q"i tltilian 12. 10 ,58 If, (AI.e 4'3). II Se •.•. g., Cicero 40 (ALC ",J; Quintilian 1~.!O.6~ (ALC 41 41; Gelli". 6 , '4.7; IPlutarch ) /-if. "1 1/"",,, ' 7>; R~dcrmach.r. IITli ... ",ipl.",·, 6 If. T h. pa ....g .. of Hom.r arc II. 3.'" IT. and, " 49. Libaniu. (&clam , 3 and 4) i'l\'en!ffl "yliuically contrasting l"",,cll'" by M endllul lind Od )'",:u.
1/,",.,
d.liming Helen bock from the Troja",.
,,8
CriliciIffl in Antiquity
the laconic ;\",cnclaus 'spoke Iillk, bUi never mi$.\td th e point'. With them. wherever this illustration is fOlund, apjl(:ars also the figure Olf Nestor, whose words, as we learn from another passage Olf the epic, are 'swee ter than honey'. The division Olf stylistic tones thus portrayed nOw includes [socra!",an smoot hll f$'l and swectnes, as a third characteristic kind, side by side with stormy power and laconic sim plici ty. Whether this scheme was an invention of Theophrastus has been much debated. n Ii probably does date from about hi s time. II ca n be S«ll as a formul ation Olf distinctions dose to those Olf Aristotle, since the plain style may be thought Olf as a reproduction Olf natural language, the Ody~an storms as the emotive style of the courts and assemblies (texis aguniflikl) and Nesto~'s smoothntt'l a. language meant for reading (tmagrWsis). Moreover, the system is taken fo~ grantt>d in what is generally hdie\"ed to he the earliest of the late Hellenistic treatisn to survive, the Rlle/on'ca ad Htrmnium. u Once accepted, such a s.: heme offered a tcmpt_ ing way o r classifying w~itel'S in any genre. Thucydides, Herodo tus and Xellophon stood for the 'three styles' in history;I' Dcmosthenes, lsocrates a nd Lysias in u~atory ; Hesiud demonstrates th e 'middle style', and ,\nlim achus Ihe forcible, in epic." This kind of labelling, whether based strictly on the tripartite scheme or o n some version of the doctrine of arelai, was obviousl y superficial and unsatisfactory; H orace was quite right to make fun of it as applied to the early Roman poets.'" It is natural to ask what tht> rdationships orthe three styles 10 one ano th er was suppose<: Ihl« 'lyl.. and Ih. corr"'f'OIldin~ P"',,".mons. ,. ~lar/.o . I..'>5"9_
.
ThtoritJ of SIJlt
t39
all. H e a$.SO{;iaH:d th\: grand slyle with the oratOrS fUJ1(;(io n of exciting eillot ion, the smooth with his giving pleasure, the plain wi t h his conveyi ng inlo rma lion." /o.'lo reo\'er , he elai med to ha V" <.:om post:d thre\: speeches whi ch might Serve as models of Ihe three kin ds; pro Catcina in Ihe plain slyle, eS]leeia ll~' in the narlalio ; pro Itgt Mam/ia, wi IhiLI large panegyric clement, in the middle sty le; a nd pro Rabirio , whid' deals wilh a highly .:moliv£ political subjec t. in the grand. z8 Ind eed , the hight"St kind of orator- who , for Cicero, was Ihe one bcst <.: apabl\: of rousi ng emotion- actually needed the skills of the olher twO stylcs in order to make his own manner acce ptable. I t is easy to sec how thi s kind of d escr il)lion and characterisati on of "yles cou ld be used for the purposes of literary controversy, that is tosay for advoc;l\ing a taste for certa;n kimi. of writing and dispa ragi ng others. Cice ro's formu la was ]lut forward , to a cer tain extent, in scll~defence against the criticisms of purist.,.19 'Longinu.' too dcarly uscs this whole ra nRC of ideas in a polemical way. O f co urse, /",psos as he sees it is nOI just a matter offtxis ; indeed, choice oflhoughl is a I'ery much more imponan ( part of it. Bill it is Itonc the k ss a specific' (onc' : serious, moving , eloquent ;n One of ~cver al ways, and sharply op po' |
7 Fro", th is point of "icw, Long;ni,,,, hupsos would (,1 quilt: well " O,al., 97 W, 100 H: (ALe ~H f. ), "So one mighl . uggc.. a. ,hort .p«imcn>: /'-,. Ctuti.a 0<>--1 , Pr. Rahi,i. j
13. A o 1'1:' .1I6,ilio 6o;r--70. "a. al>ovc, Chap«r III 5. ," It is pCThap> iml'Jicd in 3+
J-
C,;lici1m in Antiquity
'4"
among th e multifarious idlaiJ1 of the later rh etoricians, for these \00 arc based both on arela; and on charakliru. But ' L.onginus" uniqueness must not be forgotten. H e alone of [he .tylistic theorists identifies the quality he is discussing wilh lIie essence of the highe r kind of lit erature and regards the exponents of o th er qualities a:j practising an inferior art. MOr(:-
o\"cr, he has a dear conviction that a certain kind of moral excellence is necessary to achieve his end, and tha t this mUSt cO me-or is most likely to corne - from Ihe personal qualities of the ",ri ter. Still, so far as the logic of his system goes, he is of much the same school as the rhe loTS we have now to consider. 'Aristides' and Herrnogenes a re Ihe chiefofthesc." Their idtai- like Demetrius' charaklirtj - invuln: thoughts and ways of puuing them - mnoiai or gnomai and ukimala ur m~/hQdoiD-as well as features of language. This is cunnected with the fact that both writers import into the d iscussion a dis. tinction hetween the various kinds ofpruse writing with which they were familiar. I n 'Ari'l;dco' Ihis takco th e form of a separation hell"een 'ora torical' language (politikDs or agonijtikos logos ) and 'sim pie' language (aplulis or IuJplous logos ) ; the Jailer is represe nted especia lly uy Xcnopho n 's C),ropardia and by various Srn; ral;C works. ' Ar istides' hardly has a system ; but the qualities he assigns to palilikos logos ran into two g roups. One comprises the qualiti~ of grand and powerful uratory, the other those of the lighter, more 'Attic' kind . Apkelis logos has a less oven structure , less scope for elahora tion and furce. more e mphasis on characte r, a readiness to accept hum b le examples and a more personal tone. Something like this broad distinction of genres was common doctrine in later rhetoric; we find it, for example. in the rhetoT Menander."'" In H ermogenes, though his terminology fluc tuates, Ihe panegurik<>.f logos comes to be opposed 10 Ihe pa/i/ikos, Ihe exemplar of it ;s Plalo, and it Can " 1.1 0"'''''' (13. 16 ) had alrudy used the term iba in a OI I'lutie co"lo~l. In are linked . ·Aris'W...· i,us and l1'Ari"idt:S' , I~x' in Sp If., and H. RalJe (' 9'3 ) ~'3 If. See Hagedorn. and abo J Syh . ,ri" G""""", ( '930) 5~1I tr. (in R. Stark . RIu/Q,u• • 44" If. ). II ,II"ktJJqi a", in fact of'on . imply 'figures of thought '. ,. cr. Menander 400.8 Sp
."U
'4 '
be held 10 include not only philosophy a nd history, but poetry
as wclp! II is wonh while dwelling on H crmogcncs [or two reasons. The first is that he does make some ao cmpl to justify his method . T he olher is that we can sec him at work as a prac tising a ili c and [(:a ciwr, thanks 10 th e rul1ncs~ of hi , exposi tion and the wealth o f exa mplcs. Hcrmogen cs' ohjccl J6 is 10 give a rat io nale for the p racljc ~ of mimisis, a set ofprind p lcs 1ha( wi ll, he hopes, ma ke il some thing bel leTthan a mal ICTof an irTa tiona! kn .. ck _He the refore iso lates from De mos thcncs a number of c harac teri sti cs, wh ich he calls ideai. IJcmoslhcn es. we arc told, m astered all these, held the m in balance, a nd used them as required, whereas in all other wrilers one or more of the idea; predominates, colourin g the whole style. Demosthe nes' dtin(l/i:i thus co m ists in hi s control of the whok gamut; he i., the universal mastn for tI,,; o rator, as Home r is (o r the poel. HermOgCllCS' idtai r.ll1 into five main groups. T he first is 'darity' (SIlphintia ), whi ch has 'purity' (ka/ka rOli,) and 'd iSlin(." I_ ness' (tukrillda ) a s members. The seCOlld , 'di gn it\", size and gra nd e ur' (ax;oma ka; o"kos ka; mtgtl/lOs) , cm b ra ccs 'solemni ty ' (,mlllolis) , 'brillia nce' (Iamprolis) , 'a hundaJl{;e' ""',iboll), and the iII-disti nguis hed triad of ' rough I1I:SS' . 'culm ina 1in g e ffort' , and 've hemence' (IrathuliJ, akmi, sphrodrolis). T hird comes a sed ion of fea tures contributing to 'ca refulness and beauty' (rpimeln:a Jwi Itallos), mainl y points of se m enee-struct ure and ornamentation by mea ns of voca b uld ',}' and fi gun:s. GQ'golis. the fo urth main head , may be rend ered 'tautness'; it i'l\'olves rapidity and tension, and is npposcrlto slackn ess and fl abb in ess of writing. Fina ll y there i, i thos, a gene ral term lor all the qualiti es associated with All ie deli ca.:}" and charm: 'simpl ici ty' (aphrltia), ·sweetness' (g/ukUlis), 'tanncss' (drimulis ), fairness and sincerity (_pi_ilttia, alflluia)- thcsc I""t being q uali ties of thought ra ther than of language. Even this does not exhaust the complexit)" of th is rambling system, which wa s naturall y capablc of modi ftc at ion when tver th e author want~d to make a tlt w pom!, or ,,!tuck the int er pretation of a r;vuL "Cfabo\·•. (;ha p .. ,Vl tl ,. ,.
~' 3
n°. R aloe (_ Af,C ~6IJ ).
'4'
Cri/icism
i~
Antiquity
To illustrate Hcrmogcnes' ingenuity, I take a sing le and relatively uncomplicated example. This i~ the discussion of 'brilliance' (/ampro/ls) , One uf th e qualities contributing to grandeur and dignity,l? It i~ indeed an essential factor, needed \0 coun teract the harsh or dry dfect (austiros is Hermogenes' word ) that would result from unmitigated solemnity, roughnes.s and vehemence, such as sharp debate demands. So it is a kind of 'bright ness' (phaidrQliJ ), hUI not the kind that depends on ornament or sWl..::mcss, nOr yel that of the smooth, careful manner Iha( is 10 be found in lcsselcvaterl pansofOcmOlllhenes. Lamp7Qlis is a lways dignified. It displays the spea ker's confidence in the im p ressivenas of what he is saying, his own success, and the pleasure of th e audi ence in what he tells it. I\n example is OClllost hcnes' proud ooast: Not with ,{on~s or bricks did [ fortify {he city, nor is thi., of all my achic-'ements, the one of which J am m~{ proud, [fyou want to see my fonifiu{iollJ<, you will find
ann~,
c it i", and pi a""" harbcm'"
~nd
ships, horses in great number-and the men {o fight for all these things,'"
So far as subject mailer i5 concerned, Dt COTOM , with il5 confide nt pride, is an obvious source for la",proli, _Yo It provides also an iJlu~tration of th e ""rhoda; which this idta requires. One should state what has to Ix- said without hesita tion or doubt. Th e famous Mara thon oalh.oo- e l<X\uently and much more pcn::eptiveJy annotated by ' Longi.lUs' - is, for Hennogcn<:!l , an example of brilliant rtU'llwdo5, because it mak<:!lthe prestige of the matter even greater than it would have been if expressed as a simple analogy. In Olher words: No, you did not do wrong- by IhOM: of your ancestors wOO risked llteir Ii,'es a1 Marathon, you did not do wrong, is more 'brilliant' lhan, Jor exam ple: You did nOI do wTOng in running a risk for the frttdorn orGreo.':«; for Ihis is what th06t who risked Iheir lives al Ma rathon did . " 264 If. Rabt, ,.. E.g. 9I', !)II, .88.
.. Dt ,"'"." ~99.. ,08: 'Long;",,,' ,6 ( M.C 480),
Sometimes, however, DCTllosthcllCl; wishcs to va ry the ' brilliant' dfcCl with some thing else, For example: Such was the beginning and first foundation of lhe affair of T hebes, whereas previously the citi es had been broughl into a Slatt of ha(red , dislike and mistrust by thC$e men, This decree made (he danger Ihat hung .wer o ur cily pass away like a cloud," I n this, th e omission of t he words from 'whereas' 10 ' th ese men'
would (we are IOld ) have given uninterrupted ' brilliance' . Dt,mosthencs wanled to avoid eXClOSS and th e consl'(j ucnl !Iil tit;t y. H ermogen cs ' pres.::rip!ion (urns th en to vocabulary; in (his 'brilliance' doc> not differ rrom 'solemnity' , l IS semenceSlruewre, however, i~ distinClive: there should he long co la, and a certain amount or complexity or sy nldx - gcniti\'e absolutes, indirect speech, and the like, Very st ra ightforward narra tive in sim pk statements is 'pure and simple' blll not 'brilliant'," Fina ll y, the rhyt hms: the~e shou ld he in general grand and solemn, though occasionallrochaic patterns may be a llowt..:i. Hc rmogcn es' fimge of examp les is limi led, and his anxiety to define d is tinct qualities leads him of!en imo uncon vinci ng ~ pecial pleading , But Ihe ingenuil Y and sen~ ilivily an: ev idcnt. Tu rcad D. corolla wi th Hermugcnes wo uld have Ucen a SlrCllu, OUI b usiness. li e co mes as ncar as dlly " neien t a Ulhor ever d oes to giv ing a rticutate ex pression to h is se nse orst ytis ti c nuance and colo ur ,
8 In doing all this, Hcnnogen<'S, like Oemt'lrim a nd ' Longinu.', makes considerable use of the doc trine of ' figures' and 'lropes' , a conspicuou s and notorious cle ment in most ancien! cri ticism of indi vidual texts," In his model passages o f De " [1lII . " Hermoge"",,' example (268, 3 Ral>e) is I)emootl""", 20 (I,-pI;",,) [[ _ .. Ba,ic lext" Ad l/mnn;um 4, Cic_ IN ",.,. " 3- [48- 7' , Quintilian 8---<}, Itutiliu. Lupu . (ed , t: . Brook., 1970), and especially ' l.ongim.. ' 16----'29; l.ter Greek treati."" in Spe ngd, R"'""" G,,,,,; (no'" ",cen t edition. of T r)'phoo\ by
'44 (orOlla
Criticism ill tl nliquiry (299 and (88), Hermogenes
isola !<~s
twO phenomena
which he regards as ' figures' (schima/a) of diClion. In ono:'Not with Stones did I fortify the city'- wc have anairtSis, 'negat ion '. In the other- 'Thi s was Ihe beginning of the
Th eba n a!fair'-he sees apostasis, 'delached phrasing', These are uncommon technical ities; they serve to rem ind us of th e length to which thi s labelling of ornamental abnormalities was taken. Both th e theory of 'figu n;s' and th ai of ' tropes' dat e from Ih e Hellenist ic period. Th e o rname nts themselves arc of COUnie as old as lileralUn:; a lmost all could he found in Homer, while early Greek prose, suc h as that ofGurgias, constieminusly ex-
ploited the sound-effects of alliteration and rhyme. There is a lso some pre-Hellenistic theory. Aristotl e discussed metaphor - latt:r \0 be regardL-d as th e most important 'tmpe'- from a chara cteristically intellectualist point of view. H e believed tha t the ca pa city to inven t metaphon. wai; an index to th e writer's understanding of the world, because it showed that he could discern likenes.,cs belw~n dissimilar thing"!!. And he was inter. es ted in the log ical difference between metaphorica l expressions in which the genus stands for the species, those in whic h th e ",verse happens, and th<)!;e which form a kind of proportion. It is these last-'old age is the even ing of life'- that later writen normally llwan by 'meta phor'. as distinct from metonymy or synecdoche. Thcn~ is no doubt that it was Stoic grammatical theory lha t classified and elaborated the doctrine of!ropes: the basic ei ght - onomatopoeia, ca ta ehresis. metaphor. metalepsis, synecdoch e, metonymy, antonomasia, antiphrasis - occur in almost all later texts, and may be regarded as fo rming a coherent .el.u M. I .. III .., ICQ.N .•. I .~ ( '<J6~ ) J and TiberiWl by C . Ballai,.". 1968). C en"",1 di..,u" ion" Volkmann ~15-505. Martin ,. 6' - 3'5> Schcnkovdd '3' - . > K. Bar",·ick. P,. bu",. J" .",,,,ht~ Sp"..hJ.k .. IIht/lm t. 86-, 1I. B. Vick . ... CI... ,ual Rlul"'u i . EneliJA PM"), 83- '5<'. W. G . RUlherford, A C6aprn;" lIN 1/i.IO".! A.""Ia/;•• , and my nole 011 ' Longinu, ' loco cil . .. So Ba""ick, op. cit . Sec pI .• Plo 110m. t61f. (7. 3H If. Ikm~rd.ki,). A not< of hi, ddini,io"" may help . 'Onoma,opoeia' is 'he imit~t;"n ofocnoc by $Ound (J""f'OI. 'cn .. h·; ,,,.t,~ti, '.urged'). ·Ca.achr..;"· .. 'he UK ofa word fO .. oomething ".. hich doc> not ha,'c a name ofi" own: b 'l# m.an. originally a cap of dog', . kin (*"6., 'dog», and it i •• ca, ach r..i. wn
".J
Th~ories
oj SI)'le
'45
The distinction bttween the 'trope,' and the ' figures' is probably also Stoic. It is Ihal a 'Iropt' is a de\'iation from nature (ph~';$) in the usc of an individual word, while a 'figurc' is a similar devia tion in the arrangement of words or the cast of thoughl. Naturally, these di,lin(1ions wcre hard 10 maintain in practice; and the ancient treatis<;S on these suhj ect.l, li ke their mediat'val and Renaissance suceessors, present an ex traordinary and frustrating conliH;ion of lerminology. Nevertheless, [he hasic assumption of[hc Iheory, namely [hal [here is in fact a 'natural' use of a word an d a 'natural' way of putting th ings, is d early important . I [ impli~-s a sense of a norm in language which ma kes link a llowance for historical ditTerence. and for the conventions of different kinds of speech. T he theore[iC-al difficulties were imi<;eJ not altogether neglected: wit nes:; lhc discussion in Alexander'! of th~ qucstion whethcr or not there was in fact a distinction betwee n 'nalural' and 'figured' thought. But in general, grammarians and rhe lOTS wnfined themselves to identifying and labelling, without Ihinking too much either of the theore tical basis oflheir procedures, or ofthe critical value of what Ihey were doing. The doctrine ofthc figures - bolh 'of speec h ' and 'of thought' - was, like that of the tropes, a Hel lenistic product . The defmitive syslematisatiom were ",ade in the first ccnturk-s (I.e. by twO men: Gorgias,"'who l<mglu C icero's son at Ath ens in +t B.C.
a goatskin cap. '''INaphOl"' i. a {ran"ec froo' {he thing propcrly ,ignifinl by a ,,-or,·non)"m . Homer u.... of i, land. hI' me"I,,!"" ' . ·Syn<:C 01" ·Oc-n,,·,.r' for com or ' Heph.c"".' r,,, fire . 'An,o"om •• ;.· i •• xcmptihed h)' "'}'ing ' Pc\id". ' for Achill". or ' Tritogcnei~' for Athena. 'Antiphra'i" apparenlty ;. a !lOr< of irony : AchiU ... 'was not plc=d' mea", he ' was verI' much di",.,...d'. 'r! "tarch' ..tld, allo 'emph •• i. ' , the me of a ..md which .ugg.." ",m •• hing which i. not made explicit ; 'we bu.'. {he Ho .... · implies Ihat Ihe HorJC was 0 l'a >! 'hing. This trope is no\ ," commonly id
,/wo,
,h.
i.,.
U',",
'-4-,.
,h.
Crilirim. ;". Anfiquiry
and later decla imed at Rome in the hearing of the elder Seneca; and Caecilius of Caleacle, better known as the opponenl attacked in 0". s~blimity. Pan al least of Gorgias' treatise sun:ive. in th e La tin adapta tion ofRuliliu$ Lupus, and a good deal of Caecill us' call be reconstructed from later authoTS." ' Lon gi nus' no doubt him self used Caedlius when he tried to enumerale the ·figures' which cou ld contribute to hupj(Js. Hi. discussion ( 16-2 9) is mu ch the most valuable and intelligent that we have. He alone make!; a serious effort to explain how th e identifi ~ alion of th ese abnormalities ~an ~o nlribUl e 10 our understanding of the wri ter's inten t ions and q ualiti e!;. He discu~'Ics th elOri cal questions , asyndeton, combinations of anaphota and as yndeton, polysyndeton, hyperbaton, pol yptoton , plural for si ng ular, present for past, apostrophe, and periphrasi,; laler Oil, under the general heading of diction , he deals wilh the im porta nt trope of metaphor. BUI he makes 110 aHempl 10 be exhau";,·,,. The es<e,,~e of hi s cli. c u •• ;on ;. '0 show th at non e of these orna ments by itself has the de!;ired effect ; every thi ng depends on its appropriaten..-ss to its context, and on a reciprocal alliance between the formal structure and the underlying thought. T his principle is SCI out right at the beginning in the a nalysis ( \6) of the famous ' !l.larathon O at h' in Demosthenes (Dt corona 208 ). Th is was a much discussed passage, and we can compare the treatment of it in various autho rs.""! T he rhetOT Ti berius may well reproduce what Caecilius said: he regards it !lOt as a simple paradtigma (' example' ) but as the same underl ying th oug ht figura tively expr= ed lI..'l an imaginary oath (hQrkofl, with a view to brilliance and cogency (lampro~ ... axiQpis/(m ). ' Longinus' goes much further. He dubs the figure 'apos trophe' , because it involves turning aside to address the Athen ia ns. H e sees tha t it is admirably suited to the situation, and to the need \0 answer Acsc hines. The 'oa th ' mad e the heroes of Marathon a nd Salamis appear divine. It also mad e the hearers 'Ihink big'. It "Sec E. Ofcnlod., CQ«ifiif.a~wl<J . 3Z IT. .. D,WimJJ If. ( ..·ith H . Wanke!"1 (:<>mmon'ary); Tiberiu'1 ·f>9. 3.7' S!",ng'l; Quint. 9.o.6z; IArn,id.) RlUi. 4-'4 If. Schmid ; Cotti)i,.. fr. 60
",.a
Ofcnlo
'47 gave the han: s!atem.:m an ",mo tional form. And the reference
10 the v;clOries of i\'larathon and Salamis ennouled the defeat by Phili p. So tlw passa g(" fulfilled a numher ofpu rposcs, mu ch more than any ot her rhelOT .aw: it demonstrated the r ightnC!;s of the Athenians' a<;lions, it offered ,1 paradti.lJma, it proved Ihe case and it comprised both a n encomium of the men .)f"M and an exhortation to the present generation. To make his point clear, . Lo nginus' add ures a piece of Scholarly crudi lion : 'so me people', he sa ys. sa y (hat Ihe 'sc<:d' (sprrma) of t his passage was
an oath ~poken by an old soldier in a mmedy of Eupolis: ' By Marathon, by my own haltic, noonc shall grieve my heart a nn go away rejoicing.' H ere, he says, tI,e situation was ditkn:nl , for the A lhcni"ns wefe .t i II s"ccessful, and needed no comfort. /\'lore<Jver, in~lead o f making Ihe men inlO gods by whom One could swear a solemn oath, Eupolis 'wandered of[ into the inanimate', making the 'baltic' Ihe object. These crilica l judgments arc, of co urse, of no great value as regards Eupol is. ' Lo ngin us' ta keS no note of his ))anllragic manner, or oflhe comic purj>O'Ses, whatever they were , whidl determined his cho ice of "xpress ion. And th e comrast of 'inanimate' and ' aninl
CllAPTE It TEN
Classification of Literature
idea that works of litera tun: all bdong 10 d efinaule classes is commonly thought cemral to any understanding ofanciem literallln:. Sc holars and critics, from the Renaissance to the present day, have genera ll y acted o n the assumption that there was present in the minds of all ancient writers what Horace calls lex operis, 'the law of the work', and that they either followed its prescriptions or infringed them deliberatcl~' and of I\Ct purpo>;e. T his atli tude has undoubtedly strong justification in the practice of the ancient writers. Early Creek lyri c poetry, for example, was dearly composed in accordance wil h rigid couventions of con tent, metre and music, which were determined by the occa~ions for which the songs were made up. 11 is SO in most pre-literary societies throughout the world. This differenliation oflyric by occasion, the structural clalXlration of Attic traged y and corned)' in thcir earliest known phases, and Jater the rhetorical prece pts that seem to govern so much prose writing, all lend support to the view that the critic's primary task should be to establish categories and assign Ihe in d ivi d ual wnrks 10 th em . In other w<)rds, the key to understanding the Jiu:ra!un: is to be found in the study of i~1 genJ"(':S. II is idle to protest against this word. Time has hallowed the Gallicism. But it has no advautage in precision over native synonyms. I ndeed, it sullers from a disadvantage of its ow n: its exotic look ma kes LIS hope for the exa ctness of a term of art; an d we are of course disappointed. fc)r it i.s used to denote cla!<.les formed on various principles. Historically, 'gcn re-th wry' is very much more a Renaissance inheritance than an 'lucien t o ne; when We come to loo k fo r it THE
CllJSJijiClJliOfi
of LiI(rlJIU'~
'49
III the critics or antiquity, as of course we Illust, 11 "ppears a much more patchy and inco mplete thing than is commonly supposed. /o.-Io reo'·er, the gap het",een thoory and pra<:tke, lU in o the r areas which we have been considering, i, unwmfon"bly " 'ide. I n this c hapter, I sha ll ~onsi d cr somc of the cbssilieations wh ich our (ex(s present, and try to show o n what principles and for whall'UrpOSCS they were m"dc. Ru les ,,,,d cHlegories which are not ",ade cxpli cit in this way, hut ca n I.>c inferred from the practice of poets and prose_writers, 1,111 o utside o ur sll bject; bll t they ca nnot altogether [,,: left oul o f mind.'
, T he most general principle of clafoSifica I ion is t ha t which stales th e d ifferentia of poetry. \ \' e h" "e seen t hat, wit h th c exception of Ari,tolle, thc ancient crilics look a ratl": r nai",: view of th is. V eT'SC rema ined an cssent ia I characterisl ic. It m ig h t he possible occas ionall y 10 call a prose-w riter a poel- Pl ato for the fire of his language, the hi,lOrian Ctcsias "s a 'cr"rtsman of viv id· ness' l- hut Ihis was lillie hut an imtructi\"e hyp~: rb<)l e _ Verse apan, the Ill"in c hara<;1cri sl ic of thc pOet was hi ~ 'li.:cncc' (txOU,;lJ ) , (he liberties of language and fancy grantL-d him , it could be said, in <,omperl5Ht ion for Ihe restri ction of form .l ' Longinu s', who illust rates the difference betwee n ' rh etorical" and 'poetical" phanliliia with c01l5ideraule inteJ!igence, clearly regards the poetical kind as inferior, uecause less involved with reality.' It is pcrlmps grandcur of language rather than im. ag inative reach of subject th at was regarded as the special realm of th~ poet's art. He rode his chariot, the prose.writ~r followed On foot: pu.. o, lol!.os, pedfS/ris oralio a rc the stan dard expressions lor pros(, _ The analogy C011lrast5 nea tly with Valery's eomp"rison wilh walking "nd d anci ng, for it say" nothing of the inherent val uc , the d ement of play, a nd the , On ,h..,. .. and on 'he ,",-holc. I',,,hkm "r 'he rda.i"" t",twan prae
• Quintilian '0." '9. "l..m8i,,,,,' '5_
Criticism in Antiquity
' 50
symbolic character that, to must of us, characterise what the poe t d oes _ ~ I orcovcr, the anc ien! grammaria ns and f hetor.! norm a ll y regard ed poe try a s paraphra sable ; its co nt ent could be expressed in ot he r word s_ Not thaI the poe ts necessaril y
tho ug ht thi s; we ha \'O'! lhe expl ici t tes timo ny of Hora<:c to the contrary! and it is diffi cult to rcad his contempora ry Vi r-gil witho ut being sure that he could ha ve had no such ill usion. 3
The fi rst theo retical d is tinc tion of 'ki nds' of poetry see ms to be that propounded by Plato.o A, we have see n,' he set OU I a n exha uOl;vc div ision into ' mimeti c', 'narra tive ' and ' mixed '.
T hi s is a di vision based no t on occasion, nor on cont ent, but on th e pr~ n ce or absence o f mimicry. In d ra ma , th e who le thing is mimic.ry of persons; in th e dith yra mh , everything i~ narra _ ti ve; in ep ic, there is someth ing of both. I n terms o f la ter th inking, this i ~ u littl e odd . For Aristo tle ,,,,d his succawrs, the d is tin ct ion betwee n n arra tive an d dram a tic is id enti ca l wit h that between epic a nd d ra ma. That the epic poe t repo rts his characters' word s does nOt ma ke him a n actor. Ye t Pl a to evid e ntly tho ugh t it did. H e did of cou rse nee' Aristotle's time, th e si luatio n was different ; the e pi c waS for reading onl y, traged y prima ril y for performam;e , b UI a lso for pri va te readin g.
4 The su bj ec t of Aris totle's Poelics is 'poiili/;;i and ils kin ds (eidi )' . • &1;'" 1.4, 56---60; d. abo, -• . Cha p .. , !I 4 . • R",.
39~D
(ALC 6 1).
, s.:c abo..-c. Ch ap .., V II 4.
Classificat;on oj Lilnolurt
"
,
T he kinds, il appears, arc Iraged y, ~omerly, epic ~nd dithyramb - the last standing ror a ra ngl: of lyr ic forms which Aristotle is not concerned 10 dilkrcnliale. The lirsl three of these dilfer from one another in 'media', 'obje<;ls' or ' mode'; and these criteria would serve 10 define any other 'kinrl' whi ch ca mc into prom inc nce. As ~ prcface to a trealml:n1 of drama, these distinctiollS are sa tisfactory cnough, anrl Ih<::y prepare Ihe way for the thesis tlral drama is a higher form than epic.. But they do nOI ena hle Aristotle to give an adequa te acco un t of lyric ]lOCtry. o r of the epigram, or inrir.ed of any form of nondramatic verse other than epic na rrative. The d efini tion of tragedy" follows from the general considerations advan(l:d in thl: carly .:;hapters. I t is presum ahly a model of how an ,Idos shou ld be defint-d. I t makes four p
• S"" ,""ca. ad I", .; Tap!i". loc. cit. a OOw. ChaplO' 11. n. 3n.
C,ili
157
the practitioner. There is a close analogy between this pro. cedure and what ooth Plato and Aristotle clea rly thought about th e common pr~cepts of rhetori c. He re too, th e ordinary teac hers .:num~rated the pans of a speech in order, from pro. logue to .:pilnguc, and gave instruc tion on how to compose th em. But all this, for PJato lO a nd for Ari stotl e, is 'pre!imina!)' to th e art' , no t the a T! itself. We do not posses.~ Aristotle's book o n comedy; UUI the a nalogy oC the account of tragedy sugges ts Ihal we should ha ve mi ~d in it an acco unt , for exampl e, of the formal features of the comic parabasis, though we can see from Aristophanes that the poetS th emselves had clear rules about Ihis. Let me genera lise the poin t I am tryi ng to make: the ge nre· rules which poets observed are not recorded by the ph ilo. sophical critics, because the y regarded them as superficial and not going to the heaT! of the matter. If we want to knuw about them , we have to infer them from the poems themselves. 5
Th is tendency to classify on very general princi pIes rat her than to record a~tual pra<;li"e persisted in later criticism. This is not surprising, si nce literary th eory remai ned , for th e most pan, firmly in th.: tradition of Plato and Aristotle. The cumpilation called T,a;;lalus Coijli~iml~5 is a good example. L1 The writer divides poetry into 'mime ti c' and 'non-mi metic', but he uses these words in a sc n!K: somew ha t differe nt ooth from Aristotle a nd fro m Plato. ' 1I.l im c ti c' poel!)' consists of ' narrative' (apangtllikon) and 'dramatic', and the latte r has the o bvious subdivisions of comed y, tragedy , mime a nd satyr-play. T he 'non-m imetic' branch is meant evid ent ly to find room for the didactic poetry that Aristo tl e delibera tely excluded. It is thus subd ivided in to 'historical' and 'educativc': 'historical' here covers all knowledge, whel her hum ane or scie ntific, which mini sters 10 our curiosity: 'educative', wit h its subdivisions 'directive' and ' theoretical', pres umably coven gnomic and '. Pla!o PJ"mlrlu 266D If. (ALe 75 ). " Tn! ill Kaibd. C""'U""'''' e'G"'''' ... F''W'''~la 1. Sa Grub. 'H If. App
~O-j.
ClaJSijiWlion oj Lilnalurt
153
philosophical poclry.u T his classificalion, again, is imperfecl. I! leaves no pla ce for lyric, excc]>1 for such as is gnomic or educ a tional in content . This is a classification hy Celwcen form and conl en l. and both lerms arc need ed 10 char,,,:tcrise Ihe 'genre'. Thus hcxameler epic, votive elegy, encomiastic lyric an d so 011 arc easily distinguished; 110 OIlC who does not understand this deserves the name of poet. Hordee works Out one exa mple in detail: Ihe satyr play. Th is is d isIi n!!,"uishcd from tra!!."..,dy hy .ubject, for the heroes a Ild divini tics in it act ridic: ulouslyj a nd from comedy by the laet that its chara(:ters are n<Jt drawn from daily life, but from the world of myth and lege nd . lI\ltthis is not all: the language ;ltld vers ifi ca_ tion of the sa tyr-pia), arc essentially those of tragedy, not of comedy. It is not clear that Hora ce sees this quile as we do, when we ohserve the ' lyl e and metre 01" the Irhf/tul/li o r the C)'clops; but he sees plainly enough that the special chamcter of the genre demands a sty listic le\"C1 which is distinct from both the major g('nres to whic h il is rdated. 6 \Ve must now tum Ii-om theorists to grammarialls. There ,:om he little douht that the form, of ea rl y lyric: were regulated by the ron\"cntions anaching to occasions and ceremonies. ~'I uch of i( was, in a broad sense, rel igious. When Alexandrian scholars came to cI".s ify the poems they had collec1Cd, they did sO Oil the ha.l is of what they knew of these o ften obsolete a nd unrecorded conventions. l'indar was edited under nine hea ds: hymns, pae"ns, d ith yra mbs , 1'ro
'hi't<>ri<~1" 'J
Criliciffll
i~
Anliqui!y
Hellenistic a nd Rom an tim es." A \"e ry late so urce g ives us a summary of an important sc holarl y work on these 'kind~', the critical class ifi ca ti on by the grammarian Proclus, derived from late Alexandrian schola rship, presumahl}' fro m Didymus. lI For Proclus, prose and poetry have the same virtues though in different degree , and Ihe s,'l.me ' three styl es', though in poetry these look rather different: the 'b ig' slyk (hadron) is Ihe one Ihal best produces amazement (tkplixis ) and poetical beauty ; the 's lender' sty le (isdmM ) 'PU l'$u es metaphorical and ornamental composit ion, but is com posed of relaxed dements, so Iha! it is in ge neral 001 fitted for lamentation' . ikl ween th ese IWO styles lies a 'middle' style, but thi s is not the same as the 'A orid' kind (anlhi ron), '6 since Ihis is found in combination with a lllhe olher thrt:e, and especially in d escript ions of places like mead ows and groves." T hi s stylistic Ih oory, whalever its origin, reveals an attempt to adapt rhetorica l principles to the conditions of poetry. It is unfo TlUlmte Ihat its detail. a re not di,dosed; Proclu. evidently disc ussed the 'judgment of poetry', and in thi s connection examined the difference between ((hoi and pathos. We a re however told more al>out his act ual cla .... ificatio n. 'Narrative ' poetry was conveyed in hexamete r.;, iamb iCll, elegy or lyric: in ot her words, a elassifi ca tion by metre suflict"
"s...
H(J"'~~
n""
4 ·~ ·
(App<:ndix, p. '9")' " I'hOli ... Bi~li<>Ilwa, cod. '39 (rd. R . Henry. Plwli., . "01. " ('!Ii? ), ' SS If. Th. d." of,!.;. · I'rocl ... • h"" 1><:"" rli'I>U'W ; i, i. 'OIn~.im.,. h~ td ,ha' h. i. ,h •• ame~' 'he ronh-<:c n' .. 'y 1',,"pta'oni" . h .. , ,he", are good ..ason. f",. Pfeiffer. thinking him much carlier. Dep<:ndellce 0" Did )·m ... (for whom op , ci,,, '7~ If, ) ""'m; Hnai ... t:" ",Ct ill i\pp<:ndix. p. 20' . ' . Thi, view ~pp<ars '0 I><: di=ted again>! that stated in .. n <,'en lalcr "'uree for 'he ""me material (, HeliooOfu" Sdwi;« i. ',,-••-"i; Th,,,,i, +19 Hilgard ). ,,·hieh iden,ifi"" anlNr". ..-i,h ....s ... (',oidd le'). He",), (on Phot;u,. Ioc. cit .) ...,Im 10 me wTOng in rc"""n~in~ Ih, u... of ·lIdiodo ru', ,,·ho rna)' in ",me ""'I"'el. preserve a 'ruer a«oun' of . he original dourine. "Nole Horace A" f>"""" ,6 f. ; font> ,I a,a DialUU rl /i; aq"'" ptr ......., "",bifllS (ALe 180).
=
a,"'"
"l'.'
"'_fln ••
Classifi(alion oj Ultralurr
' 55
an a priori basis of classification: lyric poems a re addressed to gods, (0 men, or to both, or clse rdatc to cerlain circumstances. Somewh~t obscurelv, . the author savs . that this last class 'a re nOt kin d .• of lyr ic poeny, but w~n: anempted hy the poet., themseh·es·. This prcsumably means that 'hymn' , 'paean·, 'd ithyramb', 'epithalamium' , 'partheneion· and the li ke are na mes of actual ridi: 'g~'Orgir.s', 'gnomologic.al poem.', 'a postolics· an d the like are descriptiom invented by poxts, or applied to poems ofa certain type.'~ Th e whole classifica tion tl1<"n involvcs three main clements: (i) a dist inet ioll between poems 'to gods' and 'to men ' ; (ii ) a list of titles derived froTll early custom and religion; (iii ) a su p plemen tary list covering, in (he main, elegiac, gnomic and di d aclic poetry.
7 We come next to classifications of prose. We have had occasion to consider the divbion of o ratory into epideictic, dclibcra tive, and fi)rt nsic, This wu ld be represe n ted as e"elusive, " priori division - the subj ect-lImiter of th e th ree kind~ n; iatcd respectively to presclIl, futun: and past - L"'t it was also " p ract ical one, di/1"crell tiati ng the activit its of en tertaincr, politician and li tiga nt. T here is only one complication: the am, b iguity in the term 'epidei ctic·, which sometimcs covers not merely 'prai.t: alld blame· hut all ki nds ofdisplay speech, cve n those which mimic the deli!;erat;"e or fOrellSic.'9 Fo r the relationship betwee n oratory and other kind s of literature we may turn to Cicero.lO T he orator, he says, is to be dist inguished from four ot her kind s uf writer. Th~"S(: arc the p hilosopher, the sop hist, the hiswrian and the poet. By 'phi lm.oph er·, he means primarily the write .... of dialogues and popular treatiSC'>. 1l1CY write oma/r, but also in a qui"t,
,Ill
"NQ
,. cr. aoo.·.
10
Chap'er II 6 , ,,;,h n. OmW 6, - 11.
~6 ,
,,6
Criticism in Anliquilj'
unprovocative manner, suitable 10 the gTOwe con\<ersation of the learned. Their writing is beller called jermo than lI'olil'l. The 'sophist' is, in a broad sen..:, Ihe epideictic orator, and differs in degree rather than in kind from the orator whom Cicero is
trying to delineate; his characteristic is 10 gi,
Finally, note mUSI be tak en of th e way in which some rhetors of Ihe imperial period class ified, Or ralh er li,,~d, Ihe various kinds of cpideictic speeches practisNl in thcir day. Very [argely, these second- and third-century writers - L\·l emmder and 'pscudo- Dionysius'll - adapted lhe l(~rminolog)" of Ihe grammarian~ who had stud ied lyric poetry. ·rh e)" spoke of a ·monody' when th~y meant an ernOlio nal ~xprcssion of gr id: an 'epi. thalamium' for a marriage speech, and SO on. This was natural; the o ratory for which they we re prescrihing was thought of as a substitute for, or rival to, )lCletry. But not all their terminology came from this source. The 'consolation' (pIlTllmulhilikos ) for example was neve r a poetical form. [n par_ ticula r, Ihey drew an imf'Ortant distinction between formal and informal addresses, calling the latter ' talk!;' (Ialiai, in Latin perhaps $tmlGnts) and prescribing for them not only radical de· panures from sta ndard rhetorical structure but a non-periodic style, based to a certain extent on Xenophon and the lighter pans of P law. They called this style sUIlgraphi/:;os, meaning that it was appropriate to a written treatise rather than to a speech. 11 Hermogelles, {Jr ibi. i03 !T. Ra t><:, rrgard. rl~to a. th~ ucmpiar of the pure paneg)·ric, hut ,.don, the hi"orian. falling under the ,""me general head. His point of,·iew i, not ,·cry di!Te'-"Rt from Cicero· •. II T , an!latio'" of oo.h th .... tt.• " in RU>kn and Witson «I . of M
a,
or
C[~SSffi€~lion
oj Literalare
'57
" ' hen we ~ecall that Plaw1J took «lrmality an d ornament to be the marks ofa sUlIgramma, it is an interesting question how the word ca'ne in th e end 10 ha\'~ almos t thc oppositc associations. The anSwer lies as mud, iu Ihe differcu ce of coutext a~ in thc historical dc\·elopment. Plato was contrasting the natural language of conversation with the formality ofsomcthi ng meant to last. He was not thinking of oratory at all; the P/uudo is a repr~-scuta t ion of <:duc~tcd 1'<:01'[<: talking seriously about serious subjnts in the language of the heart. T he late Thewn; l
"!k. ".p.
F. Cairn •. G",,,;, Com".,;/;o. i. G,ut 6"J HOm6" I'omy. fAin_
burgh '9]2 . " 1\1>0.... .
{:hapt~r
V J 1J
~ ----6 .
,,8
Criticism in AntiquilY
prescriptions s«m most precise and meaningful , the orderly progressiun of topiC\, comes straight from the preliminary exercises (progumnasmala ) practised in rhetorical schools since Hellen istic tim es ,16 This is some thing we have not hitherto had to consider, since it has in i~lf no bearing on the judgment of literature, ho weve r SH:al ilJl influence may have lx:en on the actual practi ce ofwrile ... The young student was laughllo
main stuff of the prescriptions. Encomium is the most important. Its main h eads - origin , upbringing , achieve m ents and vinu <.-s, comparison wid, o thers- were laid down ill the early days o f rheloric , and never changed "",ch." It is Ihe applicalion of
these rules to the various private and public occasions Ihal the epideictic orator might be called upon to celebrale Ihat produces the firm structureof th ese so-called Menandrean 'genres'. It follows that their value as evidence either or poetic practice or of ·geore theory· i. limited and uncenain. u
i~ G,,,* aod H.....u ~;d"'an·." ([9,,7). [7 M [ ~. " Inescapable ",;d
" s.,. D. L. Clark. Riot,,,,,,
g.""...
C Il AI'TIOR ELl:VEI<
Literary History , T II It R E can he little doubt that the historical study of literature in antip,uity w;o, very rudimentary by modern standard,. The 'consciousnes.~ of definitely distinguishable periods', which Ernst Curtius regarded as ~"SSCntial to 'a historical sense', is totally absent.l Am;ient writers seldom go beyond the distinction into ·old· and 'new': ' Periclean·, 'Alexandrian', 'Au gustan· -if lhey mean more than merely chronological limits- '" modern terms. Only isolated obsc rviltions can Ix lound about the relatio ns between literary ;ITld political or social developments, and these seem to be confined to lWO topics: the ilssociation of oratory with republican Iibcrt y;Z and the widely-held view thilt il/lluence led to corruption, in literature as in other thin~. NCHnheless, the Greco-Roman c ritics were no t without historical preoccupations. For one thing, they Were undoubtedly concerned with two~"SSC ntial preliminaries to litera ry history: problems of authenticity, and biographkal fach a!.>out authors. The scholarly illvesligation of dates and authenticity is somethin)\" which wit., very well unders tood ':nn in elas.,ical Greek times. The records of Atheniiln drama tic fcs tivills, inscribed on stont from cilrlicr documents in the fourth century, and ~tudied hy Aristotle, gavc a firm foundiltion for the chronological study of Attic drarna. J In the third ce ntury, the , ulin 1~·I".I." ond 110, Eo ••"",. Middl, At" (E.' L j, 0:;0. l Cic . B'.'.' 46; Ta~ . Diolot M' 16-40; ·Longinu.' H. , ... . P; dard·(:ambcidR~. D•• moli, f.'sli""" of Alh"u ( , 9';1 ). 66 If.; Pf.iffe r 8 .. cr. aoo..·c. Chaptcc ti ll.
Crili6ism
i~ A~liqui!y
Al exandria n scholar'll who carried on th e tradit ion of the Peripatos devoted much care and trouble not only to tragedy but to olhl'r poelic genres and also to oratory. All this raised difficult questions. TI,e authorship of books in antiquit )· Wa.'j often unsure.' Styles and lechniques were stable and often lacking in individuality. Internal evidence often failed. Literary property was not very closely guarded, at least in classical times. It was apparently quite easy for collections of rolls a..ociatcd with a writ{"r- hclonging to his lihrary, for exampl e- to be believed to be his own work. The illlTactabk problems of authentici ty that remain LOV{"1l in the scanty remains of ancient literature are a reminder of this situation _ We do of coursc possess a good dea l of evidence about the scholarly tech niques which were used in antiquity to deal with such thi!\~s. One cxample must suffice: Di on~ius' treatise on the orator Dinarchus.' This is one of the late5t and most sophisticated of Dio nys ius' works. [t is ba>cd on a good deal of learning_ \\'e find him using an arehon list, and knowing the
titles and t<)ntent~ of a large numbn of speeches. H e begins by reconstructing the essential biographical facts. Dinarchus, on his own showing, returned from cx ile °as an old man'. This, says Dionysius, means that he was about seventy. We must there/ore regard as probably spurious any speeches which appear to have been written e ither before Dinarchus was 26 or 27, the age when an orator may be expected 10 begin to practise, or again during the period of hi s exile. Such argumentation is neither beltt:r nor worse than that on which much of our conventional literary history is built; and Di on~'sius makes it clear that he knows that he is working in probabilities, not in certainties. NexI follows an analysis of Dinarch us' character, in fairly gene ral term s ; and the last extant part oflhe treatise is devoted to a critical list of genuine and spu rious speeches. Dionysiu~ never a rgUe5 the casc for authenticity. Despite his S(;cpticism about received opinions and his flat dislrust in the titles (tpigrapllai) of books, he evidently assumes that the burden of prooflies on those who wish to rejeClthe traditional authorship . • Cf. K_ J- !)m'er, Tit. rpiG"u C.,pu, ( 1g68), ~3 If, ';'3 If , Reeent "'I"'r~te «lilian and commentary by G. Ma,..,nghi. /To! il~n, n.d. ; $0<0 aL,o K_J- Do'-O'. op. cit .. '9 If
Li/trary His/ory By contrast, he does present the arguments for his rejeClions. In the majority of cases, the reason given is that the speech is know n to have becn delivcred in One urthc ' unlikel y' puiods. Failing this, Dionysius f" lls hack On stylistic criteria, with occasional recourse to ot her historica l considerations. Now the pUfJ}Q:5e of all this is ct:rtainly not solely histo rical. D inarchus, in D ion)'sius' vicw, is not a gre"t ora tor. He belongs neither 10 the group of inventor.; (heurflai)- Lysias, lsocr.. tes , bacus- to whom arc aLlri[mlCd thc in novations Ihat made Aui c oratory possible- no r to th e 'perfectors' (/dtio/alJDr,rno'lhcnes, Aes,;hi" ..."'I, H ypcrides- who broug ht the promise to liJlfilrm:nt. He is an imi la[(>r. H aving no special ma nner of his own, he dips no w into one, nOw into a notheL All such imitators lack 'natu ral grace', and a taste a ttuned to the masters will a t once di scern this lack. Now it has bttn shown~ that Dionysius' inte rests dncior)(xi in the course of his st udi C!! o f the ora tON, and that the historica l rolc o f hacus as D~mosth cncs' t e ac h~r led him to d evo te more allcnt io" tu that ura tor than hc would have done ifhe hact bee n thinking si mply of his value as an object of imitation. T his is true; nel'erlhelcss, in the Dina rchlls these histo rical inquiries arc dearly undertaken ror a rheto rical purpose, namely to point oul Ihe dilfere" ce between ml""re im itatio" amI th e natural acquisition of rhetoric..1 excellences (6). We thus have" further eXHrnple of th e d ominHnn: of rheturical cunsiderations : literary history is here simply the ocrvant of rhc\<)rical instruction . It is Ilatural to compare the famous passage in "Longin lls' 16, where as we have noted, lhe author points Ollt that the '.ccct" ($perm~ ) of Dclllusthenes' 'oath by the men of1l'la rathon ' i~ said In be certain lines orthecomic JX>CI Eupolis; lit, adduccs this neither \<) show Dcmosthenes as unoriginal, nOr as objcn ivc Qudlen[oruhutlg, hu t to demunst ra!<~ the superiori ty of the fr uil to the seed, and point out where its rhetorical virtue li es.
, D ionysius' Di1laf{ilus began, as we saw, witf: a 'Iife' (bios). T his was nothing new : biog raphical int n est in literary figu res goes • S. F. Bonner. DiD.pius of lia/i,a'.au.,. 57.
,6, ha(.k In cady \imcs. 1 The a rcha ic Greek poets "'cre 10 some ex lent perso ns of kgend. Hesiud defeats Humer al the funeral games of Amphidarnas. S"ppho leaps from the rock. lbycus' murder is avenged by cranes. The eagle dro ps the tortoise on A~h ylus' head. Such legends lIlay be baso--d on rxx:ms, or they may be folk-talcs given a neW name and habita\ ion. They tell us that Ihe poe t is lamous, not that his life helps 10 explain his poems. ThaI needs one further ste p: the acceptance of the proposition that people of a part icular kind wrile poetry of a particular kind. This is we ll form ulated by AriSlophanes' Ag"lhon : A poet ough t to have r.hnn cn related IV the play
hc'~
wriling. For instance: ifhc writes a feminine piece H is I'CrlIOn also needs its feminin e side ... A masculine piece needs masculinity_
And wher<'; ",e're lacki ng. imil ation Ihen Supplies Ihe ""am ... o.,nsidcr how Ihe I:u"ou' lb)'cus. Akaeu. ""d Anacreon of T em,
\\'1>0 ga"e II dcli~ale 1I",'our 10 Iheir song •. Wore \UrbanI; "nd, ill Irue l o"i~ fashion. As men , ...·ere broken ... ForofncceMil), One', poelry is like one', nalure. ' Ribaldry aparl. Ihis represcn ts " common unrclltcling view. I I is a mOTali.li ng \'icw, nOI o nl y in lhe ~cnsc Ihat il rciales moru tu wri ling, but lJ.ecnuse il "lmOSI a l ways involves moral judgments. T here is an obvious link lJ.etween this passage of ArislOph anes and Seneca's formulation "fthe prindpk Idlil oralio qualis vila,9 and his porlrayal of Ihe dfemi nale r.Iaece na5, whose style demonstrated th aI ' he was the marl whose altclldants, when h" , On liter-MY biograph)' .., • •'. Leo. [)i, /:. i«hi"h·.iimtu:M R io/:l.pIli.. I I If.; A. ~!orni~lian". ]'''' [)m lcp .. ,.1 0/ eftd Hiog'.pIl,1 ( , '17' ), «p. fog If. • T"'.<mcp/ICfi8<"_ '49 1f., - 'lIrok. ..· (djd~) is ,,,.,., 'aken in a ""xu,,1 "'''''' : «)"'pore !Jio". Hal. Co,., p. r"b . p.63. ,6 If. U·R. ,..here liegei •• i. o.ai
Lilerary llislory
went about in public, consis ted of two eunuchs-a nd they were
hWtf (".)(amples of manhood than he'. This ~imple principle plays a large and conspicuous part in most allcirll t criticism. I n conjunction wi th the rhetorica I hab i t of slUdying and judging pCl"Suasive c/lectiveness, it formed what we ma y treat as thc conselliUS crilica l a{[itudes of later antiquity. We se.: it everywh ere . It is implied, for instance, in the common and traditional apologia or the frivolous or indecent poet: ca,mt1l las,it'urn, vila Imdira mta . An Ov id or a " ' art ial has toma ke a special cl aim to be thought an exception. 10 SUT\'ivi ng liv cs of ,lncic lll autho f":5 - which a rc nume rous. mostly late, but often based Oil early material. espec iallr Peri p,l\ctic researches o f th e fourth and third centuries lI.e. afC full of thi s approach.lt Vc ry often. il is the poetry that is made 10 caSl light on the man, and not vice ,"ersa. Aleman's nalio nality i.\ debated on the evid ence o f what he s"ys.1l Euripides' hatred of women a nd lo\(, of the sea an: inferred lium hi s plays.lJ Virgil 's homosexual relationshi p wilh an Alexis is made up o U! of the second Eclogue." Ali-an ius introduces homose"lIal alrail"S into h is poetry, 'd isp laying his o wn morals' ." Mos t of this is li ct ion. By ~ontraSt. we hear very lillie of aspects o f the maHcr that arc central to any modern literary hiogra p hy : prcdsc a s-o<.:ia tions of 1'0('1115 wi I h priva(e occ;tsio ns, o r I he dcvelopmclH eilher character or of techn iqu c. T his is not surprising ; it is in gene ral true that the Greeks and R oman.~ thought of a man' s bios more statically and less dyn a mi ca ll y than we do, and inclined always to "lew hi.
or
'OCf 0o,,,th,, ,6.5: n,·. T" , r,. 2 .3~4: ~b" i,,1 ,+11 ; '\p"ki".. A,../. 11 . ""fh ~ m ,,;( « m,·,n ;,·,,' ,·" ll ce';"" ,,(" Greek ,,'X« i. "ill A. """,,,«mann . Biog,.phi G,."i .,i""", (, 8.\5). J.,;,'c' " '~ h. '''"eY" "f'e n prinled in cdi,;",,, i'/i, ~ (I" 137 WC"erman ). "Donal", I.if- of r iftil H ' "",. ApJ""ndix. p. ,Illi.
" Q. "on"
'0. 1. ' 00.
,6,
CriliciJm in Antiquity
can be generalise<:!. Nat ions have their pe<:uliar moru and therefore styles: the exuberance of the 'Asianisu' is associated with e thn ic c haracteristics - or at least wilh the prejudice \hal
Orientals are wild and uncontrolled in exprasion . I6 Mo re im_ portant, generations have charaCleriSlic~ also: the archaism of
Sail US! became a fashion among his followers.!7 But the most influential universalisation is one which we find alread y in Ari stotle's PCJ(Ilics. Whe n Aristotk has explained that poetry derives from our natural inclinations 10 imitation and 10 rhythm and harmony , he continues: P""try was splil according to the various character!; oflhe poeu: the rno..., dignified (s.... ~cUTci) "'pr=ntoo noble ac tions and thO$<: ofl ike
the viler sor l (t"ul<Jum,) represe nted those of inferior per_ sons, fi"'t composing invfi livcs, as the other group oomf><>"'
Th ere follows a pice,", of historical sp ec ulation. Aristotle apparently po$i ~ two parallel developmenu. One includes hym ns and encomia, Homeric e pic and tragedy. The other includes inv,",Cli\"cs, Homn's AfargitlS and com,",dy. The Oasis of this is the correspondence between character and production. This is history wriltcn on a priori principles, in mu ch th,", sam e vein as most ancient theorising about the origin and de,·e]opm enl of civilisation. 3 This passage of the Potties in fact inlrodu ces a seco nd hist orical principle : that nfd evelopme nt. It goes on thus: Tragedy, after starting from an impromptu origin . .. gradually grew, as people developed wha t .... as to ~ ""en in it, and, after under_ going many changts, filia lly stopped changing ~cause it had reached its natural st ature (mile liw haulis plws, ~) ." Vahlen nb>;c rved that Aristo tle, a few Jin es above, had left
...
"".x.". "pUI. "<4,••,
" CicclO B.u .... ~[ _ S.c, ...... t recently, T _Gol"". ill F.."tlinu 1f.,11 , ~, ~9 If.
10
'448"'4 fr.
10 '449" 9.
cr. abo,'. Chapter VI 7.
Littrary History open Ihe question whelher or nOt tragedy 'is nOw adC(juale in its formative constituents', either in itself or in relat ion \0 its audiences, whereas thc statcment that it has achieved ils ' nalural stature' entirely excludes the possibility of future d evelopment in Ihe 'formative r:onstitucnts'. BUllhi. is not a very fair infcrenr:e. Wh at Aristotle puts off is a d;S(USi/Qf! of the question. The answer seems clear: tragedy could not develop rurth.:r: the plw.sis of" thing, we read in the l'alitir.J, is said to be what it is like al the completion of the proces.~or;v; coming_to_be (gtnesis ).lIl In tragedy , subjer:t, m el re ,md scale are nnw all fixed. It has rea c h~-d iv; adul t stale, the end result of inno"a tions and add ition. by a successio n of ktuTe/ai, gifted indi"id uals, somc of who m can actually be named. Future t:hanges in ter:hnique do not mailer. If r:xlens i"e eno ugh, Ihey presumably lead 10 something other than tragedy. Aristotle thus postulates an analogy bel ween the development of a gen re and the lifehis tory ofa living animal. This analogy '(pplkos to growth bu t not 10 decline. If we ask under what condi ti ons Ariswtle thuught an an Or art -furm might degener
"r
'" , ~S~· 3~ · Th~ model ]>Ian'_gro,..,], n ,,·idcntly in Ari"",] • • mind: cf. H. U~·d·Jo" ... CI. 33 ('!)Ii4 ) 37' (- .~ts(~yl'" [Wcgc dc' t'",...,hung 4651 ", If.).
A.,
Cn'tirism in
Antiq~it;,
the need to titillate a j aded aud ience. l ' T hey wne less apprecia_ ti\"e of fact than their maSler, and more wedd ed to theory.
4 Aristotl e appears as po lcntial historian again when we tum 10 rhetoric. H e PUI forward IWO theories which bear on its hislory. O ne relales 10 language: Corgias and theearI y oraton imilated Ihe grandiloquence of poets; they were wrong 10 do so, because Ihe d ict ion of pr~ is dislinct from Iha l of poetry." T his is pre$umably the germ of Ihe common later view-in Strabo and in Plutar<;h for exampl e- Iha t poe try pre<:edcd composition in pr~; 'prost' i> caIled 'speech on fOOl ' (pt<.i lexis, ~dtStris I)rolio ) in Creek and Lalin, because it came down frOIll the chariot a nd wal ked on its own feet. B T he ol her theory concerns Ihe o rigins of o ratory and of rhetorical teaching.'" O ratory too was a Itthni advancing by successive discovcries. It all began, as we have seen. in Sicily. in the fifth century, though the centre of aClivity soon moved 10 democralic Athens. T he essential poinl here is the link be tween oralory and political history. It has all obvious pla usibility ; and we find it agai n and again in lal cr tcxIS , in various guises. For C icero, peace and ease are the conditions of eloque nce: paru eol ((1111" (I liq~e S(KiQ ." It does nOI arise in nasce nl societies, in rond itions of wa r or po,"erty. or under Iyra tln y. T o the "'Tilers orthe empin:, the cha nge from lihrrlas to d(lminal;o ",a.! one of Ihe causes of decline; it h"d broug ht a ",ithdrawal of the oralor from the courts to the schools, from great causes 10 unrea l and frivolous pedantry. 'Longinus' , ",ho views a ll literature on essentiall y rhetorica l lines, considers Ihis pol itical change as one possible explanation for the 'u n iversal dea nh' of which he com pia iliS, but he rejects it in fa\our of a moral one, based 110t on changes in the political structure bUI 011 luxury, emotional brea kdown , and warring
" A" "",Ii,. ~20 If. (ALC 085). 1l Rlwl.,i,S . '4" 4' (ALe ' 36). "Cf. al. w e . Chap'er X ~ . " 0: abo ... , Cha!", H .
,67
Littrar;' History
desires,l6 The yuunger Senc,ca flirts wilh "",yclica! hypothesis. Velleius- who earned Saimc-Beuve's approval for indud ing a <:ouplc of paragraphs o n litnature in the lint boo k ofa general, univcrsal history- docs !lut even (u",i d(r the political hypothesis as an explanation of the cuncentration uf worh 1.11' genius in short periods to which he draws attel1li olJ. 27 Fur him, the possible mechanisms of change arc purel y psydlOlogka l : cm ul ation , whethe r friendly ur ctwiuus (an idea ;IS old as Hesiod ) ;1l! the principle that ' what cannot gu rorward, must go back' ; and uu r natural tendency to look for fields where easy laurels can be wnn. ' Freque nt and inconsta nt change is the grc;.tc.t hi"drancc to pe rfec tion _' 1\·l ust fina-century discussio ns uf this sort of thing are, we shuu ld remem ber, accOunts of declinc. They arc in thc tradi_ tion of Plato's and Aristot le's political theu ry rath ,;r than in th a t of th e literary theory uf the " orlics . But we do also posSC1;.~ somc explanat ions 1.11' prug ress, nUl abl y Diuny. in Latin .J' We shou ld note her~ th~ underlying notion ()fan i"dinati" realised by an individual: it is 0"" more item rn the slender stock orliterary_ hi'lOrical tl",rn ~-,; .
•H
"Vdkiu> [. , 6-- ' 7. So,.(. Appmdix, p. 'zoo. lOt lI 'orb dnd d"-,, " If. : ·So .here ;, '"'' juS! on~ kind or "rif~ hut earth : one to l><: peai,ed " ,h" " )'uu ,,,,,ice "ne bl.meworlh)'.' ,. ALe 3"';; d . at~'H Chap'''' I V , . >oJ ,6 fr. (AI.{.' 44 t ). "Ck ero R,ul" 26 , Ta~_ J);olot", '9 (,11.(: "'9 . H 3).
i, .
',",0
upon
Criticism
;~ A~tiqui!J
5 For lh e stoc k is indeed slendc r. Thc critique of classical authors contain ed in lhe extam treatises on 'imitation· by Dion ys ius and Quintilian is often thought to constitu te a $OTt of literary history. But it is nothing of the sort. The arrangement, though often ch ronological within genres, i~ not designed to demonsml1e historical links, but rat her to make comparisons of style and purpose. Only occasional touches suggest a historical interest. In Quintilian, this appears mOllt clearly in the stale· me nt that Menander admired and fo llowed Euripides. T houg h working in di fferent genres, they were p upi l an d masterY On thc other hand , parts of i'hilost ratus' LiU$ of Ike Sopkisu do have a claim to be litcrary history. Th c introduction dis. cusses the origins of extempore spea king, and the characteristics of the 'old ' and the ' new' sophists.lJ Bm, like oth er literar)" biographies, most of the work is anecdotal: Ihe sophislS' [cad, c", aTc nallK-d, but vcry little uSC i. madc of [hi, in C'xpIain ing their stylist ic charact~ristic~. Though it is obvious enough lhat Ihis whole second-century movement was veIY much a mallcr of local sc hools and their ;nAuence, we $hould know hardly anything of this from Philostrallls. In summary: neither rhetors nor biographers are much interested in the transmission oflilerary characterist ics, or in the rel.Hion between literary events and those in the world outside. This weakness o n th e historical side marks one of Ihe greal dim'Tencl"S between literary scholarship and understanding in antiqui ty and the corresponding activi ties of our own day .
.., Quimilian [O. I.!i9 (.~ /.C 390). .., See tn. opening ~ haplCfI ofllook I (accessibl~ in f.nglilh in the Loeb .,d. of W. C. Wright).
CHAl'TER TWEI.\'£
Epilogue 0" " funct ion of an epilogue, accordi ng to rhetorical theor)" is to recapitulate. It is the on ly funct io n J shall try to fulfil here. I havc tried to Skel