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The Study of Literature

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Aladár Sarbu

The Study of Literature An Introduction for Hungarian Students of English

AKADÉMIAI KIADÓ, BUDAPEST

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ISBN 978 963 05 8649 8

© Aladár Sarbu, 2008

Published by Akadémiai Kiadó Member of Wolters Kluwer Group P.O. Box 245, H-1519 Budapest, Hungary www.akademiaikiado.hu

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means or transmitted or translated into machine language without the written permission of the publisher. Printed in Hungary

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Ta b l e o f C o n t e n t s

Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .xi

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1. The Study of Literature and the University . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BEGINNINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TOWARDS DISCIPLINARY STATUS: SOME CONSIDERATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . RHETORICAL AND ETHICAL USES OF LITERATURE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hugh Blair’s Lectures. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NATIONAL SELF-ESTEEM AND LITERARY HISTORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Warton’s History and Hallam’s Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AESTHETIC AND RELIGIOUS ASSUMPTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Religion of Literature: Matthew Arnold . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE FIRST CHAIRS OF ENGLISH: JOHN CHURTON COLLINS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE SITUATION IN AMERICA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1 1 3 3 4 8 8 11 11 12 15 17 18

2. What Makes Literature Significant? Basic Orientations. . . . . . M. H. ABRAMS ON CONCEPTS OF CRITICISM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE MIMETIC VIEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE PRAGMATIC VIEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE EXPRESSIVE VIEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE OBJECTIVE VIEW AND THE NEW CRITICISM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

21 21 22 25 27 32 36 37

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3. Technicalities of Language Use: Rhythm and Metre . . . . . . . . . . ON RHYTHM IN GENERAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PROSE: STYLE, MIMESIS, EXPRESSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VERSE: LINE, RHYME AND STANZA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ELEMENTS OF METRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stress and beat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Beat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stress verse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The question of measure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Strong-stress verse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Syllable-stress (accentual syllabic) verse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Types of syllable-stress verse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Types of lines in syllable-stress verse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Foot-scansion and syllable-stress verse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Blank verse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Experimental metre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

41 41 45 46 48 48 48 50 50 52 56 57 58 60 62 69 71

ENGLISH AND HUNGARIAN VERSE: A NOTE ON THE SIMILARITIES AND DIFFERENCES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

73 75 77

4. Further Technicalities: Figurative Uses of Language . . . . . . . . . THE ART OF RHETORIC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Figures of thought. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Figures of speech . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE IMAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE FASCINATION OF METAPHOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ALLEGORY AND SYMBOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IRONY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Irony and allegory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Verbal irony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Parody . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Irony of events, comic and tragic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Romantic irony. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . MYTH, ANCIENT AND MODERN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . MYTH AND LITERATURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . MYTH AS MANIPULATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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81 81 83 84 86 91 96 105 105 105 108 111 112 114 115 119 120 121

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5. Genres . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE ARTS, SPATIAL AND TEMPORAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LITERARY GENRES: THE RHETORICAL (FORMALIST) CLASSIFICATION . . . . . . . LITERARY GENRES: CLASSIFICATION BY USE-VALUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

125 125 132 134 136 137

6. Lyric Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LYRIC AND NARRATIVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TYPES OF LYRIC POETRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WHO SPEAKS IN THE POEM? VOICE AND PERSONA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE, DRAMATIC LYRIC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CONTROL OF EMOTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

141 141 142 145 146 147 151 152

7. Fiction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TERMINOLOGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SOME HISTORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE NOVEL THEORETICALLY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NOVEL OR/AND ROMANCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ELEMENTS OF FICTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Character . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Plot. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The matter of fiction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Narrator and point of view . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Focalization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

153 153 154 155 156 157 157 158 158 164 167 169 170 171

8. Drama. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DRAMA AS THEATRE AND AS LITERATURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SOME HISTORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ARISTOTLE ON TRAGEDY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The internal elements of tragedy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Plot (mythos) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Character (ethos) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thought (dianoia) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

175 175 177 178 179 179 181 181

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A note on katharsis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The external elements of tragedy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ARISTOTLE ON COMEDY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE LEGACY OF THE GREEKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hegel on tragedy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rejecting Aristotle: Nietzsche and tragic joy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Modern tragedy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . COMEDY AGAIN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Meredith and Bergson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Typologies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The theatre of the absurd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

182 183 183 184 188 189 191 193 193 195 197 198 199

9. Schools of Criticism and Theory Today . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 EXPLODING THEORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 THE MAKING OF MEANING: HERMENEUTICS, PHENOMENOLOGY, READER-RESPONSE CRITICISM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermeneutics… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phenomenology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reader-Response Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

205 205 207 210 216 217

..................................... Sigmund Freud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Carl Gustav Jung . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jacques Lacan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

219 219 226 229 235 237

..................................... Structuralism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sign, language, reference, system: Ferdinand de Saussure . . . . . . Structuralist poetics: Roman Jakobson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . In pursuit of a narrative model: Roland Barthes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Grammar and narrative: Tzvetan Todorov . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A grammar of narrative? Gérard Genette. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Structure and meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

239 239 239 241 242 244 245 251

LITERATURE AND PSYCHOLOGY

THE (UN)MAKING OF MEANING

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Poststructuralism and Deconstruction: the Postmodern phase . . . . . . . . 252 Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 USES OF LITERATURE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Marxism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The rise of Marxism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Functions of art . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theorizing literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The English and American contribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The period of the Cold War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Does realism triumph? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

262 262 262 265 269 271 274 277 280 281

New Historicism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 Feminism and Gender Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some history . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Virginia Woolf on the feminine element in literature. . . . . . . . . . Sex, gender, class: political orientations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Uses of Lacan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Literary theory: recent developments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gender again. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

292 292 296 298 301 302 306 310 310

Postcolonial Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323

10. The Study of English and American Literature: Hungarian Orientations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 THE EARLY YEARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 LITERARY DISCOVERIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 IN SEARCH OF EXEMPLARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 334 INTRODUCING SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337 A HUNGARIAN CANON OF ENGLISH LITERATURE? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341

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ENGLISH AT THE UNIVERSITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REFERENCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

344 349 351

Appendix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355 DECLINING ENGLISH? SOME RECENT ANXIETIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

What has changed? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Possible causes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The anti-theory stance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Possible futures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Preface

This book is not for beginners. My ideal reader is the student who has had a taste both of literature and literary studies and would like to continue at an advanced level. It was the inception and subsequent growth of this Introduction that led me to such expectations. Years ago I was teaching an introductory course to students of English (which included American) literature at the Eötvös Loránd University of Budapest. The course was a somewhat new venture to me at the time as for decades I had been doing literary history, which is still my principal field of research. What I offer now follows the outline of that course and restates its basic convictions, but in every other respect it is a very different work. Unlike a lecture course, structured according to the curricular requirements of the semester – and it is right in this age of mass-education that it is so structured – a book affords its author space (and time) to dwell at greater length on topics that he believes need special attention and, within limits, it even lets him have the luxury of including material that, he trusts, the more curious of his readers will be grateful for even if others are likely to take only a cursory interest in it. Thus my work has grown from what once I envisaged as “a very short introduction” in the manner of the Oxford University Press series of that name into an extensive treatment of questions students of literature are likely to encounter. It places the “basics” of literary study in a context which, I can only hope, opens up avenues to serious scholarship. People tend to refer to this kind of book – or lecture, for that matter – as literary theory. Theory, however, is only a part, true enough, a very substantial part of my subject, reflecting the unprecedented fertility of the field in the twentieth century, especially in the latter half of it. Much of what fills these pages belongs to the rhetoric of literature. In addition, in both the rhetorical and theoretical sections, there is history, literary, philosophical, educational and of course social and political, depending on the nature of the topic. To avoid the trap that awaits writers on matters which are

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Preface

themselves secondary to something primary – in this case concepts, approaches and explanations of literature in relation to literature itself (which in turn is secondary to the life that it reflects or expresses) – I tried to keep a balance between the abstract and the practical. This accounts for my – hopefully noticeable (and welcome) – insistence on illustration and example to prop up what otherwise might strike the reader as so much hot air. Much as I enjoyed writing the book, getting the required sources was not always easy, because the sources in question were at times difficult to come by. This is particularly true of the works of authors who wrote in languages other than English. The study of literature, even of a national literature like English (which, paradoxically, is the literature of several nations), is and has been international, not to say cosmopolitan. The critical-theoretical equipment we use is the accumulated wisdom of minds shaped by diverse national traditions and in different historical periods from antiquity to this so-called postmodern age of ours. As a result of my hunt for adequate English translations, I am now better acquainted with the holdings of the major Hungarian and some foreign libraries than I have ever been. I have also learnt to appreciate the services rendered to education and scholarship by editors of critical anthologies. Where the Internet offered viable and from the scholarly point of view acceptable choices, I did not hesitate to take advantage of it, as my reader will realize. As the book is meant to be an aid to study, it follows a very transparent pattern. The ten chapters and the Appendix are subdivided into smaller units, some very short, some longer, but all within the bounds of manageability. Subdivisions, when the subject is too heterogeneous, are further divided, and even then, new splits may be necessary. This arrangement, while it does not impair readability, enables the user to locate the section of the text he or she is looking for. I have also availed myself of the now common mnemonic device of the summary, including and emphasizing the key words of the chapter which it winds up. In the long chapter on criticism and theory today, summaries, along with the references, come at the end of each major section. The references also serve as the general bibliography of the particular field discussed. The Appendix, originally a lecture, then an article in the Debrecen-based HJEAS Hungarian Journal of English and American Studies (7.1 [2001]: 135–148), came to me as an afterthought. Most of us are aware of the epochal changes which are taking place both in the national cultures of our time and on the international scene, but do we try to do adapt to the emerging situation? This is not the place to expatiate on the problem, let it suffice to say that literature – its nature and its place within the broader culture – has been thoroughly affected. So much so that some pessimists now envisage its demise, along with systematic literary studies. This, I am sure, is not going to happen, but some consciousness-raising, particularly in the university, is desirable if we want to avoid the worst. In its modest way, the Appendix serves that purpose.

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1.

The Study of L iteratu re and t he Unive rs it y

BEGINNINGS

Inquiries about the nature of literature (and about the nature of other forms of art) are almost as old as literature itself. Even though much of it has been lost, there is an impressive body of work, by the philosophers Plato, Aristotle, the poet Horace and the rhetorician Quintilian, which bears witness to the lively theoretical interest that Classical antiquity took in poetry and drama. Rediscovered during the Renaissance and treated with varying intensity as cult figures in the Neoclassical and Romantic Periods, these authors acted as powerful stimulants in the study not only of Greek and Latin but also of the national literatures of Europe. As time moved on, and as that study became more extensive and more systematic, it also became more theoretical. In England, writers like Sir Philip Sidney, Ben Jonson, John Dryden, Samuel Johnson and others, aware of intellectual and artistic developments in Italy, France, the Netherlands, Spain and elsewhere, were the first to shoulder the task of creating a theoretical and critical context in which to embed the literature of their own country; later, through an inevitable but healthy division of labour, a class of professional critics emerged and took special responsibility for the guardianship of literature. Creative writers did not, of course, give up their right to exercise that privilege and well into the twentieth century had made valuable theoretical contributions to the study of their art. As far as the history of the academic study of English literature is concerned, the late sixteenth century is a justifiable point of departure. There is a lively literary life and a heightened awareness of the issues, theoretical and practical, which agitate literature. Sir Philip Sidney, performing in his An Apology for Poetry, also known as The Defence of Poesy (1579–80, published in 1595), what its title promises, conducts a sustained argument to prove what was not obvious to everyone at the time, that poetry – which means poetry in the vernacular – is a worthy art; indeed he goes so far as to claim that the poet, by virtue of the service he renders to humanity, is superior both to

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the philosopher and the historian. In the period that follows, that theoretical awareness of the points at issue only intensifies. Ben Jonson’s comments – already along neoclassical lines – on technicalities of writing in Timber (1640), Dryden’s systematic theory of neoclassical drama in An Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668), Samuel Johnson’s vindication of the artistic practices of the great Elizabethan dramatist in “Preface to Shakespeare,” which introduces his edition of the plays (1765), are all outstanding testimonials to the excellence that critical thinking had attained to before the eighteenth century was out. Equally significant is the fact that there had developed, in that period, a substantial market for literature produced by English authors in the English language (catered for by an expanding publishing industry). The appearance of the “the common reader” (Samuel Johnson’s phrase) meant that editions were to supply not only the works of authors but also information about them. This public demand is reflected by Johnson’s own The Lives of the English Poets (2 vols, 1779–81). The biographical-critical essays in the book, on Dryden, Milton, Congreve, Swift, Pope, Addison and many other authors, were written at the request of a group of London booksellers eager to meet that demand. Johnson’s book is not yet literary history, and even the choice of poets discussed is eclectic (Chaucer, Spenser and Shakespeare are completely ignored, for instance), but it points in that direction. The widening interest in the national literature is reflected not only by increasing critical attention to English authors, but by important editions of Shakespeare’s plays that the eighteenth century saw: Alexander Pope’s (1725), Lewis Theobald’s (1733–34) and Samuel Johnson’s (1765), the added significance of which is that it gave rise to something like an incipient form of textual criticism. The erroneousness of Pope’s edition was pointed out by Theobald in his pamphlet Shakespeare Restored (1726); Pope, although he retaliated savagely to the criticism, adopted a number of the emendations in his second edition. Theobald’s own edition, on the other hand, contained some three hundred readings that have stood the test of time, the most famous among them being the emendation in the hostess’s account of Falstaff ’s death in Act II, scene iii of Henry V, where he altered the completely meaningless “’a Table of greene fields” (printed in the First Folio edition of Shakespeare’s plays in 1623) to “’a babbled of green fields” (i.e. he babbled of green fields), which is what Falstaff did before he died. It must be noted as a matter of some relevance to the study of literature that Samuel Johnson’s A Dictionary of the English Language (1755 – one of several reflecting the shift in language use towards politeness – used over a hundred thousand quotations from the works of English writers including Sidney, Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, Pope and a host of others, to provide context for its forty thousand entry words. As his critics were quick to note, occasionally he had carried virtue to ridiculous excess, and used poetic texts for illustration when colloquial material would have been more appropriate. We are told, for instance, that “measles” is “a critical eruption in a fever well-known in the common practice,” then get this example, from Coriolanus, of how to use the word: “. . . my lungs / Coin words till their decay, against those measles, / Which we disdain

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Towards Dis ciplinar y St atus: S ome C onsiderations

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should tetter us, yet seek [sought] / The very way to catch them” (III. i. 77–80, emphasis added). By the same token, Johnson defines “sleave” as “a knot or skein of silk” and cites, as an example of its use, this line from Macbeth: “Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care” (II. ii. 36) (qtd. by editors i, emphasis added). No wonder the editors add that “much has been made of this” (i).

TOWARDS DISCIPLINARY STATUS: SOME CONSIDERATIONS

For all the important developments in the eighteenth century, English still has a long way to go to become an academic discipline. Not that there is no literature at the universities. The Greek and Latin authors (Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Virgil, Horace and others: the Classics) are among the subjects taught, their justification being that they were complete (with no new additions to the Corpus to be expected) and the rules which guided their authors were well-known. Through instruction in the Classics young people were given a good grounding in rhetoric and ethics as well: the texts selected for the classroom provided tested material for the teaching of style, the training of sensibility, taste and judgment. An added benefit of this system was the cultural homogeneity it created: because of their central place in the curricula of schools and universities in Europe, the Classics provided a common frame of reference for the educated classes of a large part of the Continent. Literature in the “vernacular,” that is, in English in our case, was admitted into the university curriculum in minuscule proportions. As early as the eighteenth century, there was, in Oxford, a Chair of Anglo-Saxon, where Old English literature supplied specimens of the language under study. More recent writers – novelists, preferably – were accommodated by rhetoric. Yet, as was already apparent in the growth of public interest in the national literature, English culture was set on a course which, eventually, was bound to create the ambience in which making that literature the subject of academic study in its own right became imperative.

RHETORICAL AND ETHICAL USES OF LITERATURE

The rise of English to disciplinary status is the result of the interplay of a number of considerations, which, Bernard Bergonzi suggests, may be described as nationalist, religious, ethical, rhetorical and aesthetic (28). While this classification is undoubtedly valid, the compartments are not watertight, and the forces to which they refer did not necessarily come into play in the order in which Bergonzi lists them. In the second half of the eighteenth century, the nationalist, the rhetorical and the ethical orientations played an almost equal role in shaping the history of English, and they did so roughly about the same time. Also to be considered is the fact that the rhetorical and

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the ethical angle of approach had been part of the study of the Classics long before the teaching of the national literature became an issue. The literature of antiquity offered the student not only material for the acquisition of language skills, but case-studies of proper and improper human conduct, examples of virtue to be imitated and vice to be eschewed. It also had a rich potential for the teaching of rhetoric and oratory as well as for the education of the ethical sense. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the rules and principles to be observed in art – a rhetorical affair, essentially – were those abstracted from the works of the selfsame classics, either in antiquity, by Plato, Aristotle, Horace, etc., or later, by Italian, French, Dutch, Spanish and English critics. To this vast array of ideas and norms inherited from the Greco-Roman past, the eighteenth century added its own. Characterized by great improvements in the various forms of social interaction, the eighteenth century set great store by the steady advance of civilization, one sure indication of which was language. With the multiplication of printing offices and the spread of a new print-culture, attitudes to style and language in general had also changed. The study of prose (written forms) took precedence over the study of verse (more amenable to oral than to written delivery) and clarity became a central concern. Public speakers, face to face with their audience, can always clarify their meaning on the spot. Statements made in written form – in print, that is – must be unmistakable as it is not possible to amplify them after publication. In composition, therefore, there is a movement away from the loose sentence (made up of a series of co-ordinate clauses) to the periodic sentence (employing several subordinate clauses, creating suspense by withholding the meaning to the end so as to make it more effective) (McIntosh 30–35). Grammars, dictionaries and books on rhetoric found a receptive public. In the process, Classical Rhetoric evolved into what was then called the New Rhetoric.

Hugh Blair’s Lectures One of the hallmarks of the New Rhetoric was its literary character. As one critic put it, it was “classical rhetoric re-oriented in terms of eighteenth-century British aesthetics” (McIntosh 158). As rhetoric was expected to have its focus “on the relations between language and civilized values” (McIntosh 145), that is, as it had a pragmatic, socially progressive agenda, it found an ally in the arts and literature which, to be endorsed by contemporary criticism, was also to meet pragmatic demands. “To promote the fine arts in Britain,” Henry Home (Lord Kames) notes in the dedication of Elements of Criticism (1762) “To the King,” “has become of greater importance than is generally imagined.” Then, anticipating Matthew Arnold by more than a century, he adds:

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A flourishing commerce begets opulence; and opulence, inflaming our appetite for pleasure, is commonly vented on luxury, and on every sensual gratification: Selfishness rears its head; becomes fashionable; and, infecting all ranks, extinguishes the amor patriæ, and every spark of public spirit. To prevent or to retard such fatal corruption, the genius of an Alfred cannot devise any means more efficacious, than the venting opulence upon the fine arts: riches so employ’d, instead of encouraging vice, will excite both public and private virtue. Of this happy effect, ancient Greece furnishes one shining instance; and why should we despair of another in Britain? (1: vi–vii)

The emphasis on the phrase amor patriæ is Home’s own, and highlights at once the principal considerations at work in the making of the book. Nationalism, for it boils down to that, in opulent Britain in the eighteenth century implies, if we go by the book, the promotion of social coherence, which in turn calls for the exercise of public and private virtue, which then is most efficaciously served by the fine arts. Home’s subsequent claim that the fine arts or, more precisely, the study of the fine arts can be made a “rational science” which, unlike pure science and metaphysics, will improve manners and taste, leads him to the proposition – two centuries before F. R. Leavis’s idea of “the vital English School” as the centre of the university (29) – that “the science of criticism may be considered as a middle link, connecting the different parts of education into a regular chain” (1: 8). When, obviously with a view to the emergent middle class, the most famous rhetorician of the times, the Scotsman Hugh Blair, is also stressing the necessity of relieving the monotony of busy lives and the wisdom of usefully employing one’s idle time, he quickly ends up with the recommendation of literature for the purpose. “How then shall these vacant spaces, those unemployed intervals, which, more or less, occur in the life of every one, be filled up? How can we contrive to dispose of them in any way that shall be more agreeable in itself, or more consonant to the dignity of the human mind, than in the entertainments of taste, and the study of polite literature?” (Lecture I; L 1* 13, emphasis added). Rhetoric was taught at several universities in England, Scotland and Ireland; by being integrated into the rhetoric course, English literature obtained a quasi-academic position. Blair’s own Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, first delivered at the University of Edinburgh in 1759–60, and published in 1783, supply magnificent examples. “New” as they are, the Lectures fulfil most of the traditional functions assigned to rhetoric. They explain the nature and uses of rhetorical figures and lay down the rules of good style, eloquence and public speaking (at the bar and from the pulpit); they consider what we would today call “English for specific purposes,” such as “historical writing” (Lecture XXXV), “philosophical writing” and “epistolary writing” (Lecture XXXVII) among others. Their significance, from our point of view, however, lies not * In parenthetical references I distinguish the two volumes of Blair’s Lectures (see References) as L 1 and L 2.

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in this but in the elaborate literary theory they incorporate. Starting with the discussion of the origin of language in general and the grammatical and lexical characteristics of the “English tongue” (including sentence construction), Blair has space even for the metre of poetry in that tongue (Lecture XXXVIII). There is then a complete theory of genres, with Classical, English, French, Spanish and Italian authors backing up the argument. Given the special climate of the eighteenth century, it is noteworthy that Blair’s discussion of English literature never takes a narrow, nationalistic character. He presents Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Milton, restoration comedy, the Ossian etc. as parts of a larger, mainly neoclassical, landscape, where Homer, Virgil, Horace, Tasso, Camoens, Corneille, Racine, Molière and Voltaire are equally at home. The multiplicity of national literatures represented by these names is due to what seems to be taken for granted at the time: that literature cannot be studied in isolation. French neoclassical drama illuminates the English drama of the same period and the other way around. The principles of English metre are clarified by comparisons with those that govern Greek, Latin, Hebrew and French verse (Lecture XXXVIII). In some important instances, however, such as language and style in the case of Milton, Swift, Addison and Pope, the standards of value are, of necessity, national. Lecture XX, entitled “Critical Examination of the Style of Mr. Addison in No. 411 of The Spectator,” has this lovely exercise in stylistic analysis: “Our sight is the most perfect, and most delightful of all our senses.” This is an excellent introductory sentence. It is clear, precise, and simple. The author lays down, in a few plain words, the proposition which he is going to illustrate throughout the rest of the paragraph. In this manner we should always set out. A first sentence should seldom be a long, and never an intricate one. …………………………………………………………………………………….. “It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the longest in action without being tired, or satiated with its proper enjoyments.” This sentence deserves attention, as remarkably harmonious and well constructed. It possesses, indeed, almost all the properties of a perfect sentence. It is entirely perspicuous. It is loaded with no superfluous or unnecessary words. For, tired or satiated, towards the end of the sentence, are not used for synonymous terms. They convey distinct ideas, and refer to different members of the period; that this sense “continues the longest in action without being tired,” that is, without being fatigued with its action; and also, without being “satiated with its proper enjoyments.” That quality of a good sentence, which I termed its unity, is here perfectly preserved. It is our sight of which he speaks. (L 1 312–13)

When by the imported norms Shakespeare is found wanting, Blair more than offsets the “vices” of the dramatist by calling attention to the lively action of his plays (Lecture XLVII; L 2 372–73), to his unparalleled knowledge of human nature and his

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uniquely powerful language (Lecture XLVI; L 2 382–83)—qualities no less important from the pragmatic point of view than are any unobjectionable moral tendencies. The same attitude is observable in his treatment of the then controversial new form of “fictitious history,” under which heading he discusses that “very numerous, though, in general, a very insignificant class of writings, known by the name of Romances and Novels” (Lecture XXXVII; L 2 213). Romances and novels have an inordinately great influence, both good and bad, on the taste and morals of their readers, Blair admits, but to the extent to which they are “[i]mitations of life and character,” describe human life and manners, and show the consequences of folly by painting virtue in attractive, vice in repellent colours, they are also to be reckoned with as instruments of moral education: In this kind of writing we are, it must be confessed, in Great Britain, inferior to the French. We neither relate so agreeably, nor draw characters with so much delicacy; yet we are not without some performances which discover the strength of the British genius. No fiction, in any language, was ever better supported than the Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. While it is carried on with that appearance of truth and simplicity, which takes a strong hold of the imagination of all readers, it suggests, at the same time, very useful instruction; by shewing how much the native powers of man may be exerted for surmounting the difficulties of any external situation. Mr. Fielding’s novels are highly distinguished for their humour; a humour which, if not of the most refined and delicate kind, is original, and peculiar to himself. The characters which he draws are lively and natural, and marked with the strokes of a bold pencil. The general scope of his stories is favourable to humanity and goodness of heart; and in Tom Jones, his greatest work, the artful conduct of the fable, and the subserviency of all the incidents to the winding up of the whole, deserve much praise. The most moral of all our novel writers is Richardson, the author of Clarissa, a writer of excellent intentions, and of very considerable capacity and genius; did he not possess the unfortunate talent of spinning out pieces of amusement into an immeasurable length. (Lecture XXXVII; L 2 217–18)

Conceived as an aid to improvement, addressed “to such as are studying to cultivate their taste, to form their style, or to prepare themselves for public speaking or composition” (Preface; L 1 ii), the Lectures assert the pragmatic bend at every turn. The price the national English literature, particularly that latest growth, the novel, had to pay for this modest but by no means negligible position in the university curriculum was the exploitation of its potential for social and cultural uses. But it was a price doubly worth paying. Had it not been there – the strong pragmatic orientation, I mean – liberal as he was in his judgements, Blair would probably not have stooped to consider the literature of his own day, the dominant form of which was the novel. Of course, what matters is not what Blair says of the contemporary novel as a form of literature, as there is nothing original in that; what matters is where he says it.

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NATIONAL SELF-ESTEEM AND LITERARY HISTORY

Important as the rhetorical and ethical considerations were as forces in the rise of English, that importance pales beside the importance of the nationalist argument in promoting the cause. From the second half of the eighteenth century on, inspired in part by the evolving national consciousness in the German principalities, there was a growing awareness in England of the nation as a cultural entity. One might look upon Johnson’s Dictionary as well as his Lives of the English Poets as products of this development. Attendant upon national self-awareness is an interest in history. As in the case of rhetoric, it was a scholar, an academic if you like, who rose most successfully to the challenge of the times, by writing the first literary history, which purported to present, by means of that literary history, the way in which the English nation had attained to the high civilization it had at the time. Thomas Warton’s The History of English Poetry (3 vols, 1774–81), the first historical study of English literature, came out almost at the same time as Johnson’s Lives and, by a strange coincidence, it covered the early periods left out by Johnson and ended where Johnson’s work started. Warton’s book was followed, almost half a century later, by an even more ambitious undertaking, Henry Hallam’s An Introduction to the Literature of Europe during the Fifteenth, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (4 vols, 1837–39).

Warton’s History and Hallam’s Introduction An antiquarian by training and inclination, an admirer of the Gothic in architecture, for a time also Professor of Poetry at Oxford, Warton as a scholar is very different from Blair. For Blair, the cultivation of the English nation was an ongoing enterprise to which, in his own way, he was making an effective contribution. Warton sees his own time as a kind of culmination, as “the age advanced to the highest degree of refinement,” in which it is natural to “contemplate the progress of social life” and to trace “the transitions from barbarism to civility.” Perceiving literary history in terms of “refinement,” he takes no note of Anglo-Saxon poetry at all, because, for him, the history of the English race begins only with the Norman Conquest. It is for this reason that of the three “dissertations” – studies, that is – that he includes in his volumes, in addition to the history of poetry, one is “On the Introduction of Learning into England”; by the same token, a whole section (XXXVII) in the third volume describes how the “English language begins to be cultivated” in the early part of the Renaissance. The pride he takes in English achievements is unmistakable when he points out that such a History as his “. . . teaches us to set a just estimation on our acquisitions; and encourages us to cherish that cultivation, which is so closely connected with the existence and exercise of every social virtue” (Warton 1774 ii). Apart from its historic significance, the book has little to offer to the modern reader: it starts

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with Langland (Piers the Ploughman) and Chaucer, and proceeds as far as the end of the sixteenth century, squeezing in a subsection (XLII) on the plot of The Tempest at the end of the third volume, but as there are no more volumes and the next section (XLIII) continues with a “General view and character of Queen Elizabeth’s age,” that is the end not only of what it has to say about the play, but of its review of Shakespeare as well. Warton’s work has many shortcomings. It is not always accurate, as has been noted. On top of that, it claims to be a history of English poetry, but its first volume is more of an anthology than a history, containing long passages from the poems under review, with authorial comments and explanations in-between. The inaccuracies, in a groundbreaking work, are excusable. The extensive quotations, likewise. As, somewhat apologetically, Warton explains in the Preface to the whole three-volume set, much of the early poetry he discussed was not easily available at the time, and he meant his book to be an anthology as well as a history “of a darker and distant period” (Warton 1781 viii). Whatever imperfections the book may have displayed to its first readers, its chief merit: the stringing together of three centuries of English poetry into a continuous narrative for the first time, kept it in the public eye for a number of decades. * The historical approach adopted by Warton was there to stay, as is shown by the next major project in literary stocktaking, Henry Hallam’s Introduction. Evidently, Hallam’s ambitions were great, much greater than Warton’s, and greater in a way than the ambitions firing Blair. Warton, though an “antiquarian,” recovering what had been lost or forgotten or just needed refurbishing, was not averse to contextualization and called attention to the Classical, the Italian and the French “connection” where there was such a connection. Blair, whose subject was not nation-specific, moved with ease in the whole of the Western tradition. Hallam, who might have narrowed his focus, aims very high, higher in fact than did either Warton or Blair, and discusses three centuries of English literature along with three centuries of European – French, Italian, Spanish, German, Belgic, Portuguese, occasionally Hebrew and Arabic, etc. – literature, giving the latter the same amount of attention as he does to the former, not neglecting their interrelations. In “Chapter 5. History of English Poetry from 1550 to 1600,” for instance, after having reviewed Italian and English developments, he inserts a section on “General Parallel of Italian and English Poetry.” Hallam is a product of his age, as were Warton and Blair of theirs. If the keywords by which one can suggest the orientation of the latter two are cultivation, politeness, manners and virtue, for Hallam the keywords might be system and comprehensiveness. The three centuries covered by the Introduction are divided into fifty-year periods, each period accom* The copy of Warton’s book that I have consulted is the first edition. It is available in the Library of the School of English and American Studies of the Loránd Eötvös University, and was deposited there as part of the estate of its first Head, Arthur Patterson, who was appointed to the post in 1886. In all likelihood, Patterson used it as a textbook.

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modating eight fields of knowledge. In the 1550–1600 bracket, for instance, we have the following chapter headings: I. Ancient Literature (that is, literature produced in Latin – Greek being relatively uncommon at the time); II. Theological Literature; III. Speculative Philosophy; IV. Moral, Political Philosophy and Jurisprudence; V. Poetry; VI. Dramatic Literature; VII. Polite Literature (among others, Sidney’s Arcadia and The Defence of Poesy are discussed here); VIII. Physical and Miscellaneous Literature, including subsections on Algebra, Copernican Theory, Tycho Brahe, Gregorian Calendar and Columbus; this last one is, of course, not the discoverer of America but, we are told, a Professor of Anatomy at Pisa and Rome, whose principal claim to immortality is, at least on the basis of this book, that he was “arrogant in censuring his great predecessor,” Vesalius (Hallam II 345). It would perhaps be too bold to say that the book was conceived in the spirit of positivism – it came too early for that – but its broad sweep, abundance of material and unflagging insistence on systematizing that material betray a certain measure of affinity with it. (Talking of systematizing: if Warton was unfair to Shakespeare when he cut off his narrative, for chronological reasons, soon after he had summed up the plot of The Tempest, Hallam is no better when in Chapter VII of his fourth volume – “History of Polite Literature in Prose, From 1650–1700” – he has room for A Tale of a Tub, but would not cross the timeboundary for a fuller account of Swift. To some, this overexcessive insistence on design might suggest some principled scholarly stand; the fact of the matter is, however, that for all the inflexibility of the self-imposed system, his individual judgements are highly subjective and impressionistic, as is demonstrated by this account of the poems of Buchanan, a Scottish poet writing in Latin: If such were their meaning I should crave the liberty of hesitating. The best poem of Buchanan, in my judgement, is that on the Sphere, than which few philosophical subjects could afford better opportunities for ornamental digression. He is not, perhaps, in hexameters inferior to Vida, and certainly far superior to Palearius. (Hallam II 246, emphasis added)

* The idea of literature as the expression of the mind of the nation had a long sway over study and teaching. It had become strong enough by the mid-nineteenth century to be given thought by the education authorities, not least because this had already been done in major European countries. One of the Commissions appointed for the purpose reported in 1868 that [a]ssuredly, it would be a most valuable result if anything like a real interest in English literature could be made general in England; and we cannot believe that English could not be studied in English Schools with the same care and with the same effect as French is in French schools and German in Prussian schools. (Qtd. in Kierney 5)

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Aest hetic and Religious Assumptions

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As late as 1921, the patriotic poet Sir Henry Newbolt admonished teachers of English in a Government publication, The Teaching of English in England (the “Newbolt Report”) not to forget that “English is not merely the medium of our thought” but “the very stuff and process of it. It is itself the English mind, in which we live and work” (qtd. in Bergonzi 30). The time-span connecting the eighteenth century with the first decades of the twentieth suggests that for at least a century and a half literature was seen as the vehicle of some nationalist agenda which was justification enough for its serious study.

AESTHETIC AND RELIGIOUS ASSUMPTIONS

As is apparent from the foregoing, a good deal of what was classified as rhetoric in the eighteenth century and later – literary theories and the norms inherited or based upon contemporary literary practices – might be brought under the heading aesthetics – the term, loosely conceived, allows for such usage. But the concept of aesthetics denoting the contemplation and study of the human experience of art had not yet been invented. The word was given this specific meaning by the German poet, dramatist and critic, Friedrich von Schiller. His idea of art as the domain of freedom, play and beauty offering us relief from the restrictions of quotidian life gained wider currency after the publication of his Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man (1795). The earliest occurrence of the term aesthetics in English dates from 1825. Whether there is anything specific about the experience of art is open to debate today (Scholes 76–77), the dominant view, however, from Romanticism to the demise of Modernism – with the possible exception of Naturalism – was that art in general and literature in particular, if approached with the right sensibility, revealed realities superior to the world we live in. There is a strong religious element in this idea of what art is and can do, so it blended very well into what theories of literature in English Romanticism – those of Coleridge, Shelley and Carlyle – had to say on the matter. When in the latter half of the nineteenth century, appalled by “[t]he receding sea of faith,” Matthew Arnold proposed that literature might be substituted for religion as the new source of spirituality and of social cohesion, his ideas fell on fertile ground.

The religion of literature: Matthew Arnold From the perspective of disciplinary developments, Arnold is an anomaly. An intellectual jack-of-all-trades rather than a system-maker or scholar, he was in no position to offer any direct contribution to the emergent new field of study. Yet his niche in the Pantheon of the architects of academic English is a well-earned one. The climate shift that he helped to bring about by declaring literature not only first among the

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arts – as is evidenced by his “Epilogue to Lessing’s Laocoön” (1867) – and the central part of culture, but also the religion of the future, played at least as important a part in enhancing the status of literary studies as did the self-generated internal growth. His excessive claims for literature’s social role – and that included the spiritual as well – sprang from genuine anxieties: that, in the absence of any strong cohesive force, secular as well as spiritual, English society would be blown apart by its mounting internal tensions. “Thus in our eye,” he wrote in his seminal Culture and Anarchy (1869), “the very framework and exterior order of the State, whoever may administer the State, is sacred; and culture is the most resolute enemy of anarchy, because of the great hopes and designs for the State which culture teaches us to nourish” (204). Over a decade later, in “The Study of Poetry” (1880), he was even more outspoken: “The future of poetry is immense,” Arnold prophesied, “because in poetry, where it is worthy of its high destinies, our race, as time goes on, will find an ever surer and surer stay. There is not a creed which is not shaken, not an accredited dogma which is not shown to be questionable, not a received tradition which does not threaten to dissolve” (340, emphasis added). It must also be noted that it is the context which makes Arnold’s concept of literature as substitute religion significant and not any intrinsic merit, not to say originality. The idea is a Romantic commonplace, latent in Coleridge’s On the Constitution of Church and State (1829). Worried that the conflicting interests of the classes would fatally disrupt English society, Coleridge believed that cultivation – culture, that is – was the force capable of imparting to individuals the values, the sense of responsibility necessary to stop it. Not only did Coleridge allocate such an elevated place to culture in his social scheme, he envisaged the creation of a special class of educated people, the clerisy, to take charge of it. The idea of art, if not culture, as a redemptive force, is quite explicit in Carlyle’s On Heroes and Hero Worship and the Heroic in History (1841) (Kierney 11). For Carlyle, in true Romantic fashion, the hero is personified, among others, by the poet, a man who penetrates into “the Divine Idea of the World” and is not essentially different from that other personification, the prophet (72), which highlights the essentially priestly nature of the poetic vocation. Considering also that in The Defence of Poetry (1821) Shelley defined the poet’s mission as “the partial apprehension of the invisible world” (5), Arnold is not the only one, and is certainly not the first, to attribute a religious function to literature and a sacerdotal role to the poet.

THE FIRST CHAIRS OF ENGLISH: JOHN CHURTON COLLINS

Arnold’s exaltation of literature, his exaggeration of its potential to shape human lives, was thus a toned-down Romantic reaction to a very real problem. Paradoxically, this prophet of the religion of literature was deeply suspicious of the then unfolding campaign to admit English to the university. When asked about the desirability of the

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university recognition of English literature in 1887, he prevaricated, suggesting that the incorporation of some English authors into established Classical syllabi might be sufficient (Kierney 73–74). Arnold assessed literary phenomena with the help of ideas borrowed from English and German Romantic theory and stressed the relevance of the Classics, but apart from that he had little to offer in the way of methodology. Thus, despite attempts to bring into the study of literature some scholarly rigour, impressionism was to remain the hallmark of methodology even when that study was well within the gates of the universities. But getting within the gates was no small matter, either, as conservatives at Oxford and Cambridge erected strong defences to keep English out. The more serious objections were that there was no need to teach literature as a degree-subject, because anyone interested could pick it up; that it did not possess any of the elements of a rigorous and intellectually demanding subject; that it was not sufficiently “solid and tangible” and was therefore “unfit” for examination purposes, as examinations in literature would test only the student’s cramming ability and not his (or her) intelligence (Kierney 70–87 – Chapter Five, “The Oxford Dispute”). Paradoxically, where there was support for the idea, it rested on even more ramshackle foundations, a lovely specimen of which was supplied by a Professor of Theology at Oxford, who said he liked the idea of a new School of English, because “there were the women to be considered, and the third-rate men who would go on to become schoolmasters” (qtd. in Bergonzi 41). Before we censure the good professor for suggesting that a woman, irrespective of her abilities, has the exchange-value of a third-rate man, let us remember that when, a few decades later, those women and third-rate men were already at the university – more women, in fact, than men – Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, the first holder of the Chair of English at Cambridge, would still address the lecture hall as “Gentlemen” (Eagleton 28). But that is now history. The defences of conservatism crumbled, the stronghold was taken, and Schools of English, with degree-courses to run, were established. First in Oxford, in 1894, then in Cambridge, in 1912. The change is part and parcel of an accelerating process which began earlier in the nineteenth century, when in London – as early as 1828 – and at several provincial universities posts were created for teaching courses – but not to award degrees – in English. The national literature was made part of the Civil Service Examination, and literature classes were the most popular in the University Extension Movement. (The “Extension Movement,” springing up spontaneously in the 1860s as a form of extracurricular teaching for the public at large, was in the 1870s brought under the supervision of the Universities of Cambridge, London and Oxford.) The situation called for qualified teachers with degrees in the subject. Resolution of the problem would probably have taken longer, had it not been for the unflagging campaign for the academic recognition of the subject led by the critic, reviewer and educationist, John Churton Collins. A graduate of Balliol College, Oxford, Collins was an autodidact in matters of English literature. He received almost no instruction in English at school and none at the

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university where he studied Law, and where the closest approximation to instruction in English literature was Anglo-Saxon and the grammar-oriented subject philology, this latter concerned not with the imaginative but with the linguistic aspects of great works. It is not without significance, however, that Warton’s History and Hallam’s Introduction were among his readings while at Oxford (Kierney 9). He was also influenced by Arnold’s idea of literature as the vehicle of spirituality in an age of religious decline, and by Carlyle’s concept of the poet as a personification of the heroic. What he had read and learnt was not lost on him, as is evidenced by his book The Study of English Literature: A Plea for Its Recognition and Organization at the Universities (1891), in which he collected the accumulated documents of his campaign and, enriched by the experience he had obtained as a tireless lecturer in the Extension Movement, stated his case again. The basic structure of the academic English that he envisaged in his Plea was historical – one of the headings in the third chapter is the “Necessity of teaching English Literature both (a) historically” and “(b) critically” (Collins xiv–xv) and, as the courses he designed show, comparative. Like Warton, Collins would have nothing to do with the Anglo-Saxon period, which he regarded as immature (Warton’s epithet for the same was “barbarian”); it was immature, he contended, because it had been denied the civilizing influence of the Classics (Kierney 44). Collins’s ideal History of English Literature would be thoroughly embedded in both the Classical and the European traditions – tradition including rhetoric, criticism and, listed under criticism, a substantial amount of philosophy as well. His “international” sweep is less broad, however, than was Hallam’s, as “Europe” in this case covers only France and Italy. We have no direct evidence that he had read Blair’s Lectures, but whether or not he knew them, he made rhetoric as integral a part of his projected literature course as he did criticism (Collins 144–45). Offering his specimen scheme of study was of course only one half of the job. Yes, literature held numberless opportunities for the exercise of intellectual rigour, the scheme suggested. But there was then the task of demonstrating that it was a fit subject for examinations as well. In his zeal to carry the day, Collins produced such a string of questions on such a variety of subjects that the general impression was that no one but himself could have taken those examinations with any chance of success. For all that, there is method in the way in which those questions are composed and arranged. They represent the six related fields that constitute his course: English History; History of English Literature; Comparative Study of English and Ancient Classical Literature; Comparative Study of English and Italian Literature; Comparative Study of English and French Literature; Critical Questions. Within their fields the questions follow the chronological order, the first one, as a rule, being comprehensive, the rest more specific. Collins’s campaign was successful, but personally, he had little cause to rejoice. The stranglehold of Anglo-Saxon and philology was still too strong, and the first syllabus of the School of English approved in 1894 contained five (examination) papers

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on Anglo-Saxon, Middle English, the history of the English language and Gothic, and only three on later English literature up to 1832, and none on “ancient Classical Literature” (Kierney 83). Not surprisingly, it attracted very few students. But the idea had struck root, and a Chair of English Literature more like the one envisaged by Collins was set up at Oxford in 1904. Unfairly, his application for the post of Head was turned down by the University, which chose Sir Walter Raleigh as its first Merton Professor of English Literature. Cambridge followed suit in 1912 when it appointed Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch to the post of Regius Professor of English Literature. Its first English Tripos (an honours examination for superior students, originally employed in mathematics), introduced in 1917, signalled the full integration of the new subject into the disciplinary structure of the university. Passed over by Oxford, Collins had two years of life left in which to implement his ideas. In 1906 he was appointed to set up a School of English Literature at Birmingham University (Kierney 123), a task which he accomplished before he died in 1908.

THE SITUATION IN AMERICA

The history of the subject in the United States, owing to the common past, historical and literary, and also to the common language, is not unlike its history in Britain. Of the various considerations operating in the emergence of the discipline, the rhetorical and the nationalist appear to have played an equally significant part in America. As in Britain, literature in the eighteenth century was for a long time represented by the Classics of antiquity, as is shown by the curriculum of Yale College for 1822–23; it is symptomatic, however, that it includes Blair’s Lectures on Rhetoric, with its discussion of English authors (Scholes 181–84). The course of study of Rhode Island College (the predecessor of today’s Brown University) shows much the same picture: the only item in the 1783 list, which suggests some involvement with literature in the English language, is Kames’s Elements of Criticism, which was of course included for its rhetorical value (Scholes 185). The emergence of the study of English – and eventually American – literature, as in England, may be perceived as an unstoppable educational paradigm-shift: Rhetoric and the Classics giving way to or being absorbed into the new subject. The curricular history of Brown University exemplifies this fairly typical process. The course catalogue for 1851 lists a Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature – the old established subject and the upcoming new one being taught by the same professor is an indication of the ground gained by the latter. As a mark of continued expansion, knowledge of English literature (the analysis and prosody of Act I of Julius Caesar) became an admission requirement in 1876. A separate Department of English Literature and Language was set up in 1891 and the first (Associate) Professor of American Literature appointed in 1895. Course offerings at this stage

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included Shakespeare, Spenser, Bacon, Milton, Dryden, Burns, Keats, Victorian literature (Matthew Arnold), the nineteenth-century essay and American literature. Harvard University gave departmental status to English, along with German, French, Italian and Spanish, in 1872, which was followed four years later by the appointment of Francis James Child, an outstanding Chaucer and Spenser scholar, to its first professorship in English (Graff 66). America, however, was not ahead of Britain in giving recognition to academic literary studies in their own right, as the crucial methodological problems which were plaguing the subject, say, at Oxford, were not resolved on this side of the Atlantic, either. Philology and Anglo-Saxon, when English literature at long last had got within the gates, were there to combat, too. Where the universities of the two major English-speaking countries differed in this respect was the relative importance of the part the universities and the university extension movements played: in America much of the pressure for change came from within the universities; in Britain, from the Extension Movement. For all that, the problems and the objectives were the same, as was shown by the popularity of Collins’s The Study of English Literature and the enthusiastic welcome he received when in 1893 the American Society for the Extension of University Teaching invited him to lecture in the United States. He was seen there as the relentless foe to the medieval [sic] spirit in English education, and to the shameful neglect of aesthetic discipline and of the systematic study of English literature in the English universities. For the study of literature, not as a collection of grammatical exercises, not as a discussion of mooted points in philology, but as a clear expression of the life of a people, he is perhaps the strongest pleader today before the English-speaking world. (Harper’s Weekly, 3 Feb. 1894; qtd. in Kierney 85)

But as in England, establishing the subject as a legitimate field of study was, for all its importance, only one stage in the evolutionary history of the discipline. In both countries, advocates of the idea were looking for a paradigm which would bring to the study of literature the kind of rigour that established disciplines, including AngloSaxon and philology, already had. * Looking back to these academically interesting years, the last of which is now a century away, one may wonder, what good is it, digging up this particular past, apart from its obvious historical interest? My answer will sound platitudinous, but will be true, nonetheless. Unlike Blair, we no longer see literature as an instrument for improving either the manners or the morals, or both, of our fellow citizens. But when we teach the genres, metrics, imagery and the like, we still do what he was doing: teach the rhetoric of literature. Literary rhetoric may have slipped into strange disguises in the twentieth century, but it is still with us as New Criticism and Deconstruction or,

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at another level, as “Reading Skills,” “Presentation Skills,” “Academic Writing” and the like. When academic English finally wriggled itself free from philology and was trying to rid itself of critical impressionism in what one scholar called “the early professional era” (Graff 55), the first thing for it to do was the creation of a workable paradigmatic model for teaching and research. That model was the historical – witness only the monumental The Cambridge History of English Literature (fourteen volumes, 1907–1916) – a model already tried, and not unsuccessfully, by Warton and Hallam. We may lament that when English literature had been fully admitted to the university the comparatist impulse, along with the openness towards the contemporary as epitomized by Blair, became somewhat dormant; we should not forget, however, that those early years of the twentieth century were a time of stock-taking, and the dormant impulse was to be activated a few decades later, if not in England, certainly in America, where the Comparative Literature Department turned out to be a magnet attracting the best and the brightest, and where, early in the century, at least one attempt – William Lyon Phelps’s undergraduate course on “Modern Novels” at Yale University – was made to secure a place for contemporary writing as well (Graff 124). In our days, when the proliferation of critical methodologies has reached formerly unthinkable proportions, threatening the very disciplinarity of literary studies, that first century and a half of the history of English may seem too remote to be of much interest. As the next few chapters will demonstrate, that is far from being the case. Appearances to the contrary, we have not outgrown our past.

SUMMARY

Until the final decades of the eighteenth century, literary studies in British universities were confined to the Greco-Roman classics. The readership of the national English literature grew significantly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; this was accompanied by a good deal of critical and theoretical activity. Print-culture led to heightened language-consciousness, which in turn created a new interest in rhetoric. Rhetoricians responded to the public demand for guidance in the use of English. Hugh Blair, the most famous of them, discussed recent and contemporary English authors in his Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, in which he combined the rhetorical with ethical considerations, thus took the first significant step towards making the national literature the subject of academic study. The century regarded itself as the acme of civilization and read English literature as a reflection of the history in the course of which this had been achieved. Thomas Warton’s The History of English Poetry and Henry Hallam’s An Introduction to the Literature of Europe, both of which presented important periods of English literature in a comparative context, reflected this conviction. Schiller’s concept of literature as a source of aesthetic experience is latent in the Romantic theory of poetry. Looking for an alternative spiritual

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force in an age of religious decline, Matthew Arnold found it in literature. The existence of an informed and interested public highlighted the anomaly of there being no degree courses in English literature. Owing largely to the advocacy of John Churton Collins, the universities of Oxford and Cambridge established their first English departments in the early twentieth century. The history of the discipline followed much the same pattern in America as well, with the difference that it remained under the tutelage of rhetoric for considerably longer than it did in Britain.

REFERENCES Arnold, Matthew. “Epilogue to Lessing’s Laocoön.” 1867. Arnold: Poetry and Prose. Ed. John Bryson. London: Rupert Hart-Davis, 1967. —. Culture and Anarchy. 1869. Ed. J. Dover Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1932. —. “The Study of Poetry.” 1880. In Selected Prose. Ed. P. J. Keating. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970. 340–66. Bergonzi, Bernard. Exploding English: Criticism, Theory, Culture. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1990. Blair, Hugh. Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. 2 vols. 1783. Edinburgh: Andrew Wallace, 1814. Carlyle, Thomas. On Heroes and Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History. 1841. Sartor Resartus, Heroes and Hero-Worship, and Past and Present. London: Routledge and Sons, n. d. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. On the Constitution of Church and State. 1829. Samuel Taylor Coleridge: A Critical Edition of the Major Works. Ed. H. J. Jackson. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1985. 686–96. Collins, John Churton. The Study of English Literature: A Plea for Its Recognition and Organization at the Universities. London: Macmillan, 1891. Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell, 1983. Graff, Gerald. Professing Literature: An Institutional History. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987. Hallam, Henry. An Introduction to the Literature of Europe during the Fifteenth, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. 4 vols. 1837–39. London: John Murray, 1872. Home, Henry, Lord Kames. Elements of Criticism. 1762. 2nd ed. 2 vols. Edinburgh: Bell and Bradfute, etc., 1815. Kierney, Anthony. John Churton Collins: The Louse on the Locks of Literature. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic P, 1986. Leavis, F. R. Two Cultures? The Significance of C. P. Snow. With an Essay on Sir Charles Snow’s Rede Lecture by Michael Yudkin. London: Chatto and Windus, 1962. McIntosh, Carey. The Evolution of English Prose, 1700–1800: Style, Politeness, and Print Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998. Menand, Louis. “The Demise of Disciplinary Authority.” What’s Happened to the Humanities? Ed. Alvin Kernan. Princeton NJ: Princeton UP, 1997. 201–19. Scholes, Robert. The Rise and Fall of English: Reconstructing English as a Discipline. New Haven: Yale UP, 1998.

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References

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Shelley, Percy Bysshe. The Defence of Poetry. 1821. Shelley’s Essays and Letters. Ed. Ernest Rhys. London: Walter Scott, 1886. 3–41. Warton, Thomas. The History of English Poetry. 3 vols. London, 1774, 1778, 1781, respectively.

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*

Index

The writings – imaginative as well theoretical – of literary authors, likewise, the theoretical writings of Classical authors, are listed under the relevant name. In all other cases, information about particular works is supplied in the chapter and the References section of the chapter in which the name of the author appears.

Abrams, M. H. 21–22, 24, 29–30, 33, 204, 273 Achebe, Chinua 313, 315–316, 320, 321, 323 “An Image of Africa” 315 “Colonialist Criticism” 315 Adams, Hazard 186, 204, 360 Addison, Joseph 2, 6, 9, 329 Adorno, T. W. 278–279 Aeschylus 3, 115, 177–178, 191, 199 Agamemnon 126, 177 Eumenides 177 Libation Bearers, The (Choephoroi) 177 Oresteia 177–178, 191 Proteus 177 Ahmad, Aijaz 285, 322, 323 Althusser, Louis 279, 281, 286, 290 Amis, Kingsley 164, 228 Lucky Jim 228 András II, king of Hungary 326 Apuleius 154, 170

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“Amor and Psyche” 154 Metamorphoses (The Golden Ass) 154 Aquinas, Thomas 206 Arac, Jonathan 286 Aragon, Louis 266 Arany, János 74, 74n, 75, 339, 340, 350 “Sir Patrick Spens,” trans. 74 Aristarchus 205 Aristophanes 178, 199 Clouds, The 178 Lysistrate 178 Thesmophoriazusae 178 Aristotle 1, 4, 22, 23, 25, 26, 32, 35, 36, 37, 43, 46, 81, 91, 94, 125, 132–133, 134, 136, 137, 141, 158, 167, 177, 178–184, 185, 186, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 199, 214, 245, 248 Poetics 23, 26, 32, 91, 125, 132, 159, 167, 171, 177, 178, 181, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 199

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368

Index

Politics 134 Rhetoric 43, 46, 81, 91 Arnold, Matthew 4, 11–12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 118, 149, 356 “Epilogue to Lessing’s Laocoön” 12 “On the Modern Element in Literature” 149 “Study of Poetry, The” 12 Culture and Anarchy 12 Aston, Elaine 176 Attridge, Derek 49, 50, 51, 55, 57 Auden, Wystan Hugh 58, 61, 67, 72, 77, 128, 143, 223, 236, 271, 316 “Bride in the 1930’s, A” 146 “In Memory of William Butler Yeats” 143 “Legend” 61 “Love Feast, The” 58 “Musée des Beaux Arts” 128 “Ode” 143 “Our Hunting Fathers” 223 “Paysage Moralisé” 72 “September 1, 1939” 223 “Spain 1937” 223 Auerbach, Erich 24–25, 36, 37 Austen, Jane 157, 160, 167, 297 Pride and Prejudice 160 Austin, J. L. 309, 318 Babits, Mihály 341, 343 Bacon, Francis (1561–1626) 16 Bajza, József 339 Balassi, Bálint 326 Balzac, Honoré de 243, 267, 269, 303 Sarrasine 243, 253 Barthes, Roland 35, 87, 119, 120, 145, 164, 242–244, 247, 251, 252, 253, 258, 260, 261, 285, 305 Báthory, Zsigmond, prince of Transylvania 326 Baudelaire, Charles 343 Bayer, József 334, 340 Baym, Nina 156, 306 Beardsley, Monroe C. 34

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Beauvoir, Simon de 294, 298–299, 307, 310 Becket, Thomas 42 Beckett, Samuel 198, 278, 279 Endgame 198 Waiting for Godot 198 Bécsy, Tamás 175, 185, 276 Beebee, Thomas O. 134, 135, 136, 332 Béldi, Ferenc, Count 336 Bell, Quentin 224 Belsey, Catherine 287, 302 Bennett, Arnold 159 Old Wives’ Tale, The 159 Bercovitch, Sacvan 286 Bergonzi, Bernard 3, 11, 13, 316 Bergson, Henri 193, 195, 199, 223, 259 Bérubé, Michael 359, 360, 362, 363, 364 Berzsenyi, Dániel 332 “Észrevételek Kölcsey recenziójára” 332 Bessenyei, György 329–330, 349 Az embernek próbája, trans. 329 Bessenyei, Sándor 330n Betanzos, Roman J. 208 Bethlen, Miklós [Nicolas] 327–328 Bhabha, Homi K. 317, 318, 319–321, 322 Bible, Biblical 86, 102, 115, 116, 117, 129, 185, 190, 206 Blair, Hugh 4–7, 8, 9, 14, 15, 16, 17, 82, 82n, 332, 350 Blair, Tony 321 Blake, William 67, 87 “Tiger, The” 55, 67 Bloom, Harold 205, 280, 305, 358, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363 Boccaccio, Giovanni 154 Decameron, The 154 Bodkin, Maud 228 Bohlmann, Otto 190 Boldizsár, Iván 336 Bölöni Farkas, Sándor 336–337, 350 Booth, Wayne C. 106, 109, 248 Bowdler, Thomas 340

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


Index Bradbrook, M. C. 225 Brahe, Tycho 10 Braine, John 161n Life at the Top 161n Room at the Top 161n Brecht, Bertold 266, 275, 278 Bricmont, Jean 361 Bridges, Robert 71 Brontës 297 Brontë, Charlotte 305 Jane Eyre 305 Brontë, Emily 34, 103 Wuthering Heights 34, 103 Browning, Robert 57, 59, 107, 146 “My Last Duchess” 146 “Toccata of Galuppi’s, A” 59 Brueghel, Pieter 128 “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” 128 Buchanan, George 10 Bunyan, John 97 Pilgrim’s Progress, The 97 Burke, Edmund 292 Burns, Robert 16, 143 “Auld Lang Syne” 143 Butler, Judith 306–309, 310 Byrom, John 61 “My Spirit Longeth for Thee” 61 Byron, George Gordon 113, 115 Caillois, Roger 213 Camoens, Luis de 6 Campbell, Matthew 43, 44 Campion, Edmund 326 Carlyle, Thomas 11, 12, 14, 18, 29, 99, 229, 286 Carpenter, Edward 293, 295, 306 Carroll, Lewis (C. L. Dodgson) 51, 59 Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 51, 59 Castelvetro, Lodovico 185 Castle of Perseverance, The 185 Caudwell, Christopher 219, 223, 271, 272, 273, 274, 281

Sarbu.indd Sec1:369

369

Cervantes, Miguel de 155, 161n, 170, 249, 268 Don Quixote 155, 161n, 170, 268 Chafe, William H. 296 Chardin, Jean-Baptiste-Siméon 268 Chatman, Seymour 48, 158 Chaucer, Geoffrey 2, 9, 16, 47, 57, 143, 297, 333 Troilus and Criseyde 143 Child, Francis James 16 Chishull, Edmund 326–327 Christ 25, 114, 115, 127, 143, 228 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 81, 83, 105 De Inventione (On Invention) 81 Cixous, Hélène 300 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 11, 12, 29, 53, 55, 57, 71, 77, 87, 99, 101, 102, 103, 104, 113, 132, 149, 269, 272 “Christabel” 53, 57, 71 “Destiny of Nations, The” 99 “Frost at Midnight” 103 “Preface” to “Christabel” 53 “Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The” 55 Biographia Literaria 29 Lyrical Ballads 148, 149 On the Constitution of Church and State 12 Statesman’s Manual, The 102, 269, 289 Collins Cobuild English Language Dictionary 95 Collins, John Churton 12–15, 18, 344, 356 Columbus (Professor of Anatomy at Pisa) 10 Congreve, William 2, 196 Way of the World, The 196 Conrad, Joseph 111, 116,122, 133, 145, 159, 162, 168, 172, 191, 192, 224, 225, 227, 236, 246, 249, 313, 315, 323, 341 “End of the Tether, The” 191 “Secret Sharer, The” 224, 225, 232, 236 “Shadow-Line, The” 116 “Typhoon” 191

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370

Index

Heart of Darkness 111, 133, 157, 168, 246, 315, 323 Lord Jim 159, 192, 227 Nostromo 159, 162 “Contest of the Ivy and the Holly, The” 52 Cooper, John Xiros 130 Copernicus, Nicolaus 10 Corneille, Pierre 6, 186 Cornhill Magazine, The 344 Courbet, Gustave 268 Cowley, Malcolm 274 Cowper, William 58, 67 “Poplar-Field, The” 67 “Shrubbery, The” 58 Crashaw, Richard 150 Crossman, Richard 254n Crowley, J. Donald 123 Csernátoni, Pál 327, 328 Csokonai Vitéz, Mihály 329, 330, 350 “A lélek halhatatlansága” 330 Dorottya 330 Culler, Jonathan 240, 242, 245, 251–252, 253 Czigány, Lóránt 344 Dangerfield, George 294 Darnton, Robert 358 Dávidházi, Péter 333 Day-Lewis (Day Lewis), Cecil 219, 271 Defoe, Daniel 45, 160, 161n Journal of the Plague Year, A 45 Robinson Crusoe, The Adventures of 7, 160, 161, 250 Delbanco, Andrew 357, 358 De Man, Paul 31, 99, 100, 102, 103, 105 Derrida, Jacques 35, 241, 254, 255–260, 261, 285, 308, 317, 319 Dickens, Charles 105, 157, 160, 161, 162, 171, 250, 286, 337, 341, 345 Christmas Carol, A 341 David Copperfield 157, 160

Sarbu.indd Sec1:370

Great Expectations 161, 250 Hard Times 161, 341 Oliver Twist 112, 337, 341 Dixon, Peter 81, 82 Donne, John 143, 150, 151 Donoghue, Denis 100 Dostoevsky, Fyodor 268 Dowson, Ernest 88, 144 “Dregs” 88 “Vesperal” 88 Dryden, John 1, 2, 16, 26, 142, 150, 186, 187, 199 Essay of Dramatic Poesy, An 2, 26, 186 Duban, James 286 Dunn, Douglas 70, 146 “Gardeners” 70 “Artist Waiting in a Country House, An” 146 Durrell, Lawrence 164, 166 Alexandria Quartet 164, 166 Eagleton, Terry 13, 191, 255, 278, 279, 280, 281, 291, 364 Edel, Leon 154, 224 Egri, Péter 276 Electra myth 191, 305 Eliot, George 107, 161, 162, 171, 297, 341 Adam Bede 341 Middlemarch 341 Mill on the Floss, The 161 Eliot, T. S. 31, 32, 42, 43, 44, 45, 53, 67, 72, 87, 100, 101, 118, 130, 131, 135, 141, 145, 146, 149, 150, 151, 163, 172, 191, 256, 272, 297, 341, 343, 346 “Burnt Norton” (Four Quartets) 32, 256 “Hippopotamus, The” 87 “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, The” 131, 146 “Metaphysical Poets, The” 131, 150 “Preface to Anabasis” 131 “Reflections on Vers Libre” 72

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


Index “Three Voices of Poetry, The” 146 “Ulysses, Order and Myth” 118 Cocktail Party, The 191 Four Quartets 31, 44, 45, 101, 130, 131, 256 Murder in the Cathedral 42, 191, 256, 343 Sweeney Agonistes 191 Waste Land, The 118, 132, 135 Elizabeth I, queen of England 9, 289 Ellis, Havelock 293, 295, 306 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 29, 30, 90, 99, 100, 101, 103, 189, 229, 295, 342 Empson, William 143 Engels, Friedrich [Frederic] 263, 266, 270, 279, 281, 293, 298, 306 Engler, Balz 355n Eötvös, József 335, 337, 344, 350 Erdélyi Muzéum [Múzeum] 339 Euhemerus 114, 153 Euripides 3, 115, 148, 177, 178, 180, 191, 199 Alcestis 191 Everyman 97, 104, 185 Fanon, Frantz 277 Fast, Howard 343 Spartacus 343 Faulkner, William 168, 223, 236, 248 As I Lay Dying 168, 223 Sound and the Fury, The 223, 248 Faust, Johann 114 Felman, Shoshana 225, 233, 234–235, 237, 303 Fest, Sándor [Alexander] 326, 327, 329, 330, 332n, 333, 334, 348, 350 Fielding, Henry 7, 24, 46, 112, 121, 155, 160, 167, 273 “Preface” to Joseph Andrews 155 Joseph Andrews 155, 160 Tom Jones 7, 24, 45–46, 160, 167 Fischer, Ernst 275 Fish, Stanley 135, 214–215, 217, 357 Fitzgerald, F. Scott 168 Great Gatsby, The 168

Sarbu.indd Sec1:371

371

Flaubert, Gustave 268 Madame Bovary 249, 253, 289 Fleishman, Avrom 358, 360, 361, 362, 363, 364 Flint, F. S. 151 Ford, Ford Madox 159 Forster, E. M. 157, 158, 159, 171, 219, 252, 313, 317 Passage to India, A 317 Foucault, Michel 164, 287–288, 307 Fowles, John 164, 167 French Lieutenant’s Woman, The 164, 167 Fox, Ralph 271, 272, 273–274 Frank, Joseph 132 Frank, Tibor 344 Franklin, Benjamin 358 Fraser, G. S. 48 Frazer, Sir James George 115, 117, 118 Freud, Sigmund 117,118, 219–225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 277, 278, 280, 288, 298, 299, 301, 302, 305, 306, 309, 321 Friedman, Norman 167 Frost, Robert 62, 129 “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” 62 Frye, Northrop 57, 115, 117, 119, 127, 133, 136, 141, 143, 153, 175, 197, 228, 252 Fuller, Margaret 295, 298, 310 Gabler, Hans Walter 83n Gabor, Dennis 341 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 207, 210, 211, 216 Gallagher, Catherine 286, 287, 288, 289, 290 Galsworthy, John 162n, 298, 341, 342 Forsyte Saga, The 162n In Chancery 162n Man of Property, The 162n Modern Comedy, A 162n Garnett, David 343 Lady into Fox 343

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


372

Index

Geertz, Clifford 289 Genette, Gérard 167, 169, 171, 245–251, 252, 253, 260 Gertrudis, queen of Hungary 339 Gibbon, Lewis Grassic (James Leslie Mitchell) 271 Gifford, Don 82 Gilbert, Sandra M. 305 Gilbert, Stuart 82, 130, 165 Giotto, di Bondone 104, 129 Saint Poverty 104 Scenes from the Life of St Francis 129 Virtues and Vices 104 Gladstone, William 356 Globe Theatre, The (London) 176 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 99, 115, 227, 236, 268 Faust 99, 227, 228 Golding, William 118, 164 Lord of the Flies 164 Goldmann, Lucien 287 Goldmann, Márta 343 Goldsmith, Oliver 196 She Stoops to Conquer 196 Gombrich, E. H. 214 Gömöri, György 326, 327 Gorky, Maxim 266 Gosse, Edmund 356 Graff, Gerald 16, 17, 203, 362 Gramsci, Antonio 271, 281, 287 Gray, Thomas 68, 69 “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” 68, 69 Greenblatt, Stephen 286, 287, 288, 289, 290 Greene, Graham 118 Gregory, Lady Augusta 118, 346 Gregory, Robert 100 Gubar, Susan 305 Guha, Ranajit 317, 318 Guthrie Theater, The (Minneapolis) 176 Gyöngyössi, Pál 327

Sarbu.indd Sec1:372

Gyulai, Pál 344 Egy régi udvarház utolsó gazdája 344 Haas, Renate 355n Hallam, Henry 8, 9–10, 14, 17 Hamer, Enid 63 Hardy, Barbara 160, 169 Hardy, Thomas 105, 112, 127, 157, 160, 161, 162, 171, 175, 191, 192, 294, 210 Dynasts, The 175 Jude the Obscure 157, 294 Return of the Native, The 161 Tess of the D’Urbervilles 105, 112, 161, 191, 192 Harkness, Margaret 266, 270 City Girl 266 Harper’s Weekly 16 Harsányi, István 329 Harte, Bret 334 “Aged Stranger, The” 334 Hartvig, Gabriella 331 Hassan, Ihab 254, 255 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 30, 90, 97, 103, 116, 154, 156, 169, 192, 249, 250, 286, 294, 295, 296, 337, 342, 343 “Artist of the Beautiful, The” 30 “Celestial Railroad, The” 97 “Custom House, The” 156 “My Kinsman, Major Molineux” 116 “Preface” to The House of the Seven Gables 156 House of the Seven Gables, The 169 Marble Faun, The 90 Scarlet Letter, The 103, 192, 294 Twice-Told Tales 154 Heaney, Seamus 128 “Seed Cutters, The” 128 Hegel, G. W. F. 133, 155, 156, 170, 188–189, 192, 193, 199, 259, 263, 264, 268, 272, 273, 321

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


Index Heidegger, Martin 207, 209–210, 216, 241, 255, 278 Heliodorus 154, 170 Aethiopica 170 Hemingway, Ernest 191 Old Man and the Sea, The 191 Herbert, George 127, 150 “Easter Wings” 127 Hervey, James 330, 331, 350 Meditations among the Tombs 330 Hirsch, E. D. 135, 176, 210–211, 215, 216, 217 Hogarth, William 129 Rake’s Progress, The 129 Home, Henry (Lord Kames) 4, 5, 332 Homer 3, 6, 21, 24, 26, 64, 111, 114, 115, 126, 132, 141, 163, 167, 205, 250, 265, 331 Iliad 21, 126, 133, 155, 167, 250 Odyssey 21, 63, 110, 111, 118, 133, 163, 246, 250 Hopkins, Gerard Manley 44, 52, 54, 71, 72, 144 “Author’s Preface to Poems (1876–1889)” 52, 54 “Harry Ploughman” 144 “Tom’s Garland” 144 “Wreck of the Deutschland, The” 71 Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) 1, 3, 4, 6, 25–26, 27, 36, 127, 184 Ars Poetica 25, 184 Hughes, Ted 119 Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow 119 Hugo, Victor 133, 141 Hume, David 29 Husserl, Edmund 207–208, 211, 216 Hutcheon, Linda 36, 108, 109, 110, 177 Huxley, Aldous 341–342, 346 Huxley, Julian 341 Inwood, Michael 287 Irigaray, Luce 301

Sarbu.indd Sec1:373

373

Iser, Wolfgang 22, 211–214, 217 Jakobson, Roman 95, 241–242, 260, 270 James I, king of Scotland 47 James, Henry 34, 98, 105, 107, 109–110, 145, 154, 156, 161–163, 165, 167, 168, 171, 192, 208, 224–225, 234, 236, 247, 249, 285, 294, 295, 341 “Art of Fiction, The” 156, 165, 285 “Aspern Papers, The” 154 “Daisy Miller” 154 “Turn of the Screw, The” 154, 224, 232, 234, 236, 237 Ambassadors, The 34, 165, 168, 192, 249 Awkward Age, The 168 Golden Bowl, The 109, 163 Portrait of a Lady, The 105, 107, 161 What Maisie Knew 249 Wings of the Dove, The 98, 163 James, William 223, 224, 226 Jameson, Fredric 135, 279, 281, 285, 322 Jászberényi, Pál 327 Jehlen, Myra 285, 286, 290 Johnson, B. S. 167 Unfortunates, The 167 Johnson, Samuel 1, 2, 3, 8, 27, 67 “Preface to Shakespeare” 27 “Short Song of Congratulation, A” 67 Dictionary of the English Language, A 2 Lives of the English Poets, The 2, 8 Jókai, Mór [Maurice] Az új földesúr 344 Mire megvénülünk 345 Jones, Ann Rosalind 300 Jones, Howard Mumford 346 Jonson, Ben 1, 2, 6, 187, 196 Alchemist, The 196 Timber 2 Volpone 196 Joyce, James 34, 46, 82, 88, 93, 95, 100, 101, 110, 118, 130, 133, 136, 137, 141, 144, 145, 154, 159, 163, 166, 168, 171, 197,

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374

Index

223, 229, 236, 248, 266, 272, 273, 274, 276, 341, 343, 346 “Aeolus” (Ulysses) 82, 87, 89, 93, 95, 105 “Circe” (Ulysses) 223 “Homecoming, The” (Ulysses) 163 “Oxen of the Sun, The” (Ulysses) 110 “Sirens” (Ulysses) 130 “Telemachiad, The” (Ulysses) 163 “Wandering Rocks, The” (Ulysses) 131, 168 “Wanderings of Odysseus, The” (Ulysses) 163 Dubliners 154 Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, A 34, 46, 101, 133, 144, 168 Ulysses 82, 92, 95, 110–111, 118, 130, 131, 136, 137, 159, 160, 163, 164, 166, 168, 197, 223, 229, 246, 248, 272, 274 József, Attila 266 Jung, Carl Gustav 117, 118, 223, 226–229, 235, 236, 237, 298, 306 Kafka, Franz 278, 279 Kant, Immanuel 33, 36, 254, 270 Kaposi, Samuel [Sámuel] 327 Károli, Gáspár (name of university) 349 Károlyi, Mihály [Michael] 335, 337 Katona, Gábor 326 Katona, József 339 Bánk Bán 339 Kazinczy, Ferenc 331, 338, 350 Érzékeny útazások Francia- és Olaszországban, trans. 331 Hamlet, trans. 338 Macbeth, trans. 338 Keats, John 16, 57, 96, 103, 104, 113, 128, 143 “Ode on a Grecian Urn” 128, 143 “Ode on Melancholy” 96 “To Autumn” 104 Kerékgyártó, Elemér 328 Kermode, Frank 31 Kéry, László 223, 347

Sarbu.indd Sec1:374

Kierney, Anthony 10, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 345, 356, 356n Kipling, Rudyard 298, 313 Kis, János 332 Klebelsberg, Kuno 345–346 Koczogh, Ákos 339 Kocztur, Gizella 347 Kölcsey, Ferenc 332 Kollonitsch [Kollonich, Colonicza], Lipót, Cardinal 327 Kossuth, Lajos 342, 348n Kosztolányi, Dezső 343 Kövecses, Zoltán 87 Kretzoi-Valkay, Sarolta 349 Krieger, Murray 127, 128, 129, 130 Kristeva, Julia 300, 301, 303–304, 306 Lacan, Jacques 225, 229–235, 236, 237, 258, 279, 280, 300, 301–302, 304, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 316, 321, 361 Lamb, Charles 334 King Lear (Tales from Shakespeare) 334 Lambert, E. D. de 333 Langland, William 91, 97 Piers the Ploughman 91, 97 Larkin, Philip 143 Lassalle, Ferdinand 266, 270 Franz von Sickingen 266 Lawrence, D. H. 34, 162, 223, 272, 273, 294, 310, 341, 342, 346 Rainbow, The 162 Sons and Lovers 34, 162, 223 Women in Love 162 Leavis, F. R. 5 Leech, Clifford 191 Leech, Geoffrey N. 52, 92, 93 Léger, Fernand 266, Lemouton, Joannis [Jean] 333, 344, 350 Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich 197, 263, 268, 269, 270, 281, 318 Lennard, John 47, 51

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


Index Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 12, 125–126, 129, 136 Lévi-Strauss, Claude 241, 245, 257, 260, 309 Lewis, Sinclair 343, 346 It Can’t Happen Here 343 Lifshitz, Mikhail 270, 281 Lillo, George 187, 188 “Dedication” to The London Merchant 187 London Merchant, The 187 Liyong, Taban lo 314, 322 Locke, John 29 Lodge, David 91 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 356 Longinus (Pseudo-Longinus) 28 Lowell, James Russell 356 Lubbock, Percy 34, 168, 171 Lukács, György [Georg] 24, 25, 36, 37, 189, 192, 199, 263, 265–266, 267–269, 270, 273, 274, 275–278, 279, 281, 287 Lyotard, Jean-François 254–255, 320 Macaulay, Thomas Babington 334 MacLeish, Archibald 34, 73 “Ars Poetica” 34 “Lost Speakers, The” 73 MacNeice, Louis 147, 227 “Eclogue for Christmas, An” 147 Macpherson, James 331, 350 Ossian 6, 332, 336 Mallarmé, Stéphane Maller, Sándor 338, 339 Mankind 185 Mann, Thomas 266, 276 Marlowe, Christopher 115, 176, 297 Edward II 176 Martin, Jay 363 Marvell, Andrew 143, 150 Matthias [Mátyás] I, king of Hungary 154 Matthiessen, F. O. 98, 290, 342 McCarthy(ism) 285

Sarbu.indd Sec1:375

375

McIntosh, Carey 4, 45, 82 Mehring, Franz 270, 281 Melville, Herman 98, 99, 103, 113, 136, 192, 224, 227, 236, 250, 286, 337, 342 “Tartarus of Maids, The” 242 “Whiteness of the Whale, The” (Moby-Dick) 98 Billy Budd 224 Moby-Dick 98, 103, 113, 136, 192, 224, 227, 228, 250 Pierre 99 Menander 178 Meredith, George 144, 193–195, 196, 199 Modern Love 144 Mérey, Sándor 338 Szabolcs vezér 338 Tongor, vagy Komárom állapottya a VIII. században 338 MIA: Encyclopedia of Marxism: Glossary of Terms 286 Mikes, Kelemen 329 Törökországi levelek 329 Millay, Edna St. Vincent 91 “Pity Me Not Because the Light of Day” 91 Miller, Arthur 192 Death of a Salesman 192 Millett, Kate 294, 299–300, 310 Miller, Henry 299 Milne, Drew 280 Milton, John 2, 6, 57, 135, 143, 150, 214, 215, 327, 330 “Lycidas” 135, 143, 215 “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” 143 Areopagitica 327 Paradise Lost 330 Paradise Regained 330 Mitchell, Stanley 279 Molière (Jean-Baptiste Poquelin) 6, 186, 196 Moore, George 109 Morf, Gustav 224

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


376

Index

Morgan, Charles 341 Morris, William 271, 356 Morton, A. L. 277 Muecke, D. C. 105, 106, 107, 111, 113 Murdoch, Iris 164 Under the Net 164 Murphy, Gerard 176 Nagy, Imre 275 Naipaul, V. S. 313 Napoleon, Bonaparte 119, 267 Neumann, John [Johann] von 342 New Masses,The 274 New Testament 25, 206 Newbolt, Sir Henry 11 Nexö, Martin Andersen 266 Ngugi, wă Thiong’o 314–315, 320, 321, 322 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm 189–190, 192, 253, 254, 278 Noah (miracle play) 197 Norris, Christopher 254 Nyugat 343 O’Casey, Sean 192 Juno and the Paycock 192 Red Roses for Me 192 O’Neill, Eugene 191, 192, 343, 346 Long Day’s Journey into Night 191, 192 Mourning Becomes Electra 191 Okri, Ben 118, 313 Old Pupil, An 345, 346 Old Testament 206 Orange, Prince of 327 Országh, László [Ladislaus] 345, 346, 348 Owuor-Anyumba, Henry 314, 322 Paget, William, Lord 326–327 Paglia, Camille 361 Palearius, Antonius 10 Pálffy, István 343 Pankhurst, Emmeline 293–294

Sarbu.indd Sec1:376

Partisan Review 274 Pater, Walter 33, 104, 130, 165, 208, 214, 229, 240, 273, 278, 356 “Conclusion” to The Renaissance 33, 165 “School of Giorgione, The” 130 “Style” 165, 273 Studies in the History of the Renaissance 33 Patterson, Arthur J. 9, 333, 344, 345, 350 Last Master of an Old Manor House: A Transylvanian Tale, The, trans. 344 Magyars, Their Country and Institutions, The 344 New Landlord, The, trans. 344 Pázmány, Péter (in names of universities) 344n, 346, 349 Péczeli, József 330–331, 332, 334 Pericles 149 Péterfy, Jenő 342, Petőfi, Sándor 331, 338, 339, 340, 350 “Homér és Osszián” 331 Petrarch (Francesco Petrarca) 144 Petronius 24, 154, 176 Feast of Trimalchio, The 24, 154 Satyricon 24, 154 Phelps, William Lyon (Billy) 17, 360, 364 Picasso, Pablo 315 Pinter, Harold 191 Birthday Party, The 191 Caretaker, The 191 Plato 1, 4, 22–23, 26, 28, 30, 31, 33, 35, 46, 81, 99, 127, 167, 178, 240, 245, 248 Gorgias 81 Phaedrus 28, 81, 127, 178 Philebus 178 Republic, The 22, 26, 28, 46, 167, 178, 248 Plautus, Titus Maccius 178, 184, 186 Plekhanov, Georgi 270 Plotinus 28, 36 Six Enneads, The 28

2008.11.27. 20:49:49


Index Poe, Edgar Allan 33–34, 35, 51, 59, 154, 233, 234, 237, 243–244, 253, 342, 343 “Eleonora,” 244 “Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The” 35, 243–244, 253 “Ligeia” 244 “Morella” 244 “Murders in the Rue Morgue, The” 233 “Poetic Principle, The” 33 “Purloined Letter, The” 233, 237 “Raven, The” 51, 59, 60, 343 Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque 154 Pope, Alexander 2, 6, 23, 329, 330, 343 Essay on Criticism, An 23 Essay on Man, An 329, 330, 350 Rape of the Lock, The 330, 350 Pound, Ezra 53, 87, 101, 132, 142, 151 “Encounter, The” 142 “Few Don’ts By An Imagiste, A” 151 Praxiteles 90 Faun 90 Price Herndl, Diane 301, 302 Propp, Vladimir 244 Proust, Marcel 245, 248, 250 Remembrance of Things Past 245, 246, 248 Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur 13, 15 Quinones, Ricardo 363 Quintilian (Marcus Fabius Quintilianus) 1, 81 Institutio Oratoria 81 Rabelais, François 155, 170 Gargantua and Pantagruel 170 Racine, Jean 6, 186 Rákóczi II, Ferenc, prince of Transylvania 329 Raleigh, Sir Walter 15, 345, 356 Rask, Erasmus 356n Reed, Ishmael 119 Reynolds, David S. 224 Rich, Penelope 85 Richards, I. A. 41, 88, 92, 102, 272

Sarbu.indd Sec1:377

377

Richardson, Samuel 7, 136 Clarissa 7, 136 Pamela 136 Richthofen, Frieda von 223 Ricoeur, Paul 94–95, 96, 159, 171, 214 Rimmon-Kenan, Shlomith 158, 169 Rivera, Diego 266 Rogin, Michael Paul 286 Rorty, Richard 362 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel 128 “Sonnets for Pictures” 128 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 293 Émile 293 Royal Shakespeare Company 176 Rushdie, Salman 118, 313 Russo, Richard 357 Straight Man 357 Ruttkay, Kálmán 338, 339 Said, Edward 313–314, 315, 316, 321, 322 Saintsbury, George 356 Sándor, István 334 Sartre, Jean-Paul 278 Saussure, Ferdinand de 119, 229, 230, 236, 239–241, 251, 253, 256, 258, 259, 260, 301 Savona, George 176 Schiller, Friedrich von 11, 17, 147–149, 151, 264, 266, 268 Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man 11 Naive and Sentimental Poetry, and On the Sublime 148 Schlegel, August Wilhelm 113 Schlegel, Friedrich 112, 113, 156 Schleiermacher, Friedrich 206–207, 210, 216, 304 Scholes, Robert 11, 15, 153, 257, 359, 360, 361, 362, 364 Schorer, Mark 34 Schröder, Friedrich Ludwig 338 Scott, Walter 74n, 156, 276, 279, 333, 336

2008.11.27. 20:49:50


378

Index

Second Shepherd’s Play, The 197 Selden, Raman 256, 301, 302, 305 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus 184, 186 Shakespeare, William 2, 6, 9, 10, 16, 23, 27, 48, 57, 62, 69, 73, 105, 111, 117, 137, 142, 144, 148, 151, 166, 176, 185, 186, 187, 195, 196, 199, 221, 224, 234, 266, 268, 289, 297, 329, 334, 336, 337–341, 347, 350, 363 “Sonnet 18” 62, 69, 73 Comedy of Errors, The 186 Coriolanus 2, 338, 339 Hamlet 23, 57, 86, 90, 176, 186, 197, 221, 233, 234, 236, 237, 338, 339, 350 Henry IV 111, 186 Henry V 2 Julius Caesar 15, 338 King John 326, 339 King Lear 69, 70, 105, 111, 186, 334, 338 Love’s Labour’s Lost 196 Macbeth 3, 111, 197, 338 Measure for Measure 340 Midsummer Night’s Dream, A 195, 339 Much Ado About Nothing 196 Othello 186, 334, 340 Richard II 289 Richard III 338, 339 Romeo and Juliet 334 Tempest, The 9, 10, 186 Shattuck, Roger 363 Shaw, George Bernard 190, 192, 196, 271, 294, 296, 306, 310, 342, 343 Arms and the Man 196 Candida 196 Heartbreak House 196 Mrs Warren’s Profession 294 Pygmalion 196, 343 Saint Joan 190, 192, 294 Widowers’ Houses 196 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 11, 12, 29, 31, 32, 57, 97, 103, 113, 143, 175, 272

Sarbu.indd Sec1:378

“Ode to a Skylark” 103 “Ode to the West Wind” 103, 143 Defence of Poetry, The 12 Prometheus Unbound 97, 175 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley 196 School for Scandal, The 196 Sherwood, Peter 345 Sholohov, Mikhail 266 Showalter, Elaine 304, 305 Siddons, Mrs Sarah 334 Sidney, Sir Philip 1, 2, 10, 26, 85, 127, 144, 326 Apology for Poetry, An (The Defence of Poesy) 1, 10 Arcadia 10 Sillitoe, Alan 161–162n Birthday, The 162n Key to the Door 162n Open Door, The 162n Simonides 127 Sinclair, Upton 343 Jungle, The 343 Siqueiros, David Alfaro 266 “Sir Patrick Spens” 74 Skeat, Walter 356n Skura, Meredith 229 Smith, Adam 334 Smith, Captain John 326 Smith, H. L. 48 Snyder, Gary 119 Socrates 46, 106, 127, 167, 178 Sokal, Alan D. 361 Solger, Karl 113 Sophocles 3, 111, 115, 117, 148, 177, 191, 199, 221, 234, 235 Antigone 177, 178, 189 Oedipus the King 111, 117, 177–178, 180, 182, 188, 199, 221, 243, 235 Tracking Satyrs, The (Ichneutae) 177 Soyinka, Wole 313 Spectateur, Le (French trans. of The Spectator) 329

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Index Spectator, The (of Addison and Steele) 6, 329 Spectator, The (London weekly) 107, 108 Spender, Stephen 271 Spenser, Edmund 2, 16, 47, 143, 144 “Epithalamion” 143 Spinoza, Benedict (Baruch) de 150 Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty 305, 317–318, 320, 321, 322, 323 Spurgeon, Caroline 90 Stalin, Joseph (Iosif Vissarionovich) 270, 274, 275, 281 Stallman, Robert Wooster 162 Steele, Sir Richard 329 Steiner, George 191 Stephen, Leslie 344 Sterne, Laurence 112, 113, 121, 155, 167, 273, 314, 331–332, 350 Letters from Yorick to Eliza 331, Sentimental Journey, A 331 Tristram Shandy 113 Stoppard, Tom 197 Dirty Linen 197 Travesties 197 Stravinsky, Igor Fyodorovich 129 Rake’s Progress, The 129 Sutherland, John 357 Sweet, Henry 356n Swift, Jonathan 2, 6, 10, 97, 105, 106, 107 Gulliver’s Travels 97, 105, 106–107, 334 Tale of a Tub, A 10 Swinburne, Algernon Charles 57 Symonds, John Addington 356 Symons, Arthur 31, 132 Synge, John Millington 118 Szabó, Lőrinc 73 “Mondjam: társad (Shakespeare, 18. szonett),” trans. 73 Szász, Károly 342 Széchenyi, István 332n, 334, 335, 350 Széchényi, Ferenc 334 Szeleczky, Károly 333

Sarbu.indd Sec1:379

379

Szemere, Bertalan 335, 337, 350 Szenczi, Miklós 204, 346, 347 Szentkirályi, József [Joseph] 343 Szepessy, Tibor 155n Szepsi Csombor, Márton 327, 328 Europica Varietas 327 Szerb, Anthony [Antal] 326, 341, 343 Szilárd, Leo 342 Szinnyei, József 333, 344 Szirbik, Ferenc 328, 333 Tasso, Torquato 6 Taylor, Dennis 127 Teller, Edward 342 Tennyson, Alfred, Lord 43, 57, 64, 103, 334, 356 “Attempts at Classic Metres in Quantity: ‘CLI Translations of Homer’ ” 64 “Charge of the Light Brigade, The” 334 “In Memoriam” 103 “Will” 43 Terence (Publius Terentius Afer) 178, 184 Thackeray, William Makepeace 160, 341 Vanity Fair 160, 341 Theobald, Lewis 2 Thespis 177 Thomas, Dylan 88, 127, 145 “Do not go gentle into that good night” 145 “If I were tickled by the Rub of Love” 88 “Vision and Prayer” 127 Thomas, Edward 50 “What Shall I Give?” 50 Thompson, E. P. 277, 287 Thoreau, Henry David 296, 342 Throlby, Anthony 150 Tisza, István 348 Tocqueville, Alexis de 336–337 Todorov, Tzvetan 244, 246, 249, 251, 252, 260 Tolstoy, L. N. 266, 268, 270, 279

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380

Index

Tomori, Anasztáz 339 Tompkins, Jane 286, 305–306, 357 Tóth, Árpád 343 Trager, G. L. 48 Trapp, J. B. 351 Trefort, Ágoston 344 Trilling, Lionel 224, 274 Trócsányi, Berta 327 Trotsky, Leon 263, 270, 274, 281 Upward, Edward (Edward Falaise) 271 Vajda, Péter 338 Vaughan, Henry 150 Vesalius, Andreas 10 Vida, Marco Girolamo 10 Virágos, Zsolt 119 Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro) 3, 6, 126 Aeneid 126 Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet) 6, 329, 331 Vöő, Gabriella 341 Vörösmarty, Mihály 338, 340, 350 Wain, John 164, 223 Strike the Father Dead 223 Warren, Austin 87, 98, 127 Warton, Thomas 8–10, 14, 17 Washington, George 336 Waugh, Evelyn 118 Wéber, Antal 331 Webster, John 346 Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary 95 Weinsheimer, Joel 158 Wellek, René 87, 98, 127 Wells, H. G. 90, 91, 109, 110, 157, 294, 296, 310, 337, 341, 342 Boon 109–110 History of Mr. Polly, The 157 Tono-Bungay 90, 337

Sarbu.indd Sec1:380

West, Alick 271, 272–273, 274, 278, 281 Weston, Jessie 118 White, Hayden 285 Whitman, Walt 224, 295, 337, 342, 343 “Calamus” 224 Widdowson, Peter 256, 301, 302, 305 Wigner, Eugene 342 Wilde, Oscar 33, 132, 196, 197, 250, 271 Importance of Being Earnest, The 196, 197 Williams, Raymond, 185, 188, 191, 277–278, 281, 287, 289, 290 Williams, Tennessee 192 Wilson, Edmund 224–225, 234, 235, 274 Wilson, John Dover 289 Wimsatt, W. K. 34, 182, 183, 193, 194 Winterson, Jeanette 119 Sexing the Cherry 119 Wittig, Monique 306, 307 Wollstonecraft, Mary 292–293, 295, 296, 310 Woolf, Virginia 25, 42–43, 44, 45, 159, 160, 163, 165, 166, 168, 171, 223, 224, 227, 236, 249, 296–298, 299, 303, 305, 306, 310, 343 Mrs Dalloway 159, 160, 163, 164, 168, 304 Orlando 166, 224 Room of One’s Own, A 42, 296 To the Lighthouse 25, 43, 163, 223 Waves, The 42, 163, 166, 227 Wordsworth, William 29, 57, 103, 113, 127, 146, 148–149, 151, 272, 334 “Preface” to Lyrical Ballads 148 “Tintern Abbey” 127, 146, 149. 152 “Upon Westminster Bridge” 334 Lyrical Ballads 148, 149 Prelude, The 30, 103 Wright, Garland 175 Yeats, William Butler 31, 32, 43, 44, 87, 98, 100, 101, 118, 132, 143, 145, 147, 190, 197–198, 341, 346

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Index “Circus Animals’ Desertion, The” 87 “Dialogue of Self and Soul, A” 147 “Ego Dominus Tuus” 31 “In Memory of Major Robert Gregory” 100 “Lamentation of the Old Pensioner, The” 98 “Sailing to Byzantium” 101 “Symbolism of Poetry, The” 31, 44, 100, 145 “Two Trees, The” 100 “Vacillation” 31, 101

Sarbu.indd Sec1:381

381

Death of Cuchulain, The 190 Herne’s Egg, The 197–198 Yolland, Arthur 345–346, 350 Debts of Honor: A Novel, trans. 345 Young, Edward 29, 329, 330–331, 350 Night Thoughts 29, 330–331 Zenodotus 205 Zhdanov, Andrei Aleksandrovich 270

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The Study of Literature  

The study of literature has been an integral part of academic education for over a century now.

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