the dilemma of literary science

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The Dilemma of Literary ScienceAuthor(s): István Sötér and René BonnerjeaSource: New Literary History, Vol. 2, No. 1, A Symposium on Literary History (Autumn,1970), pp. 85-100Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/468590 .

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The Dilemma of Literary Science

Istv6.nSiottr

I

IETZSCHE reproachedphilology ortakingcareof andkeepingtexts only for a few chosen persons, who are always "to come"

but who are never "here." This work in usum Delphinorumis as "distinguished" as it is futile. Building materials piled uponeach other from which no house is built and from which the pro-ducers do not believe, or do not even wish, that a house should ever

be built.

But still, what would happen if, instead of the unborn Dauphin, peo-

ple readyfor action were to

laytheir hands on the stocks of

philology?Let us ask ourselves the question: Could the specialists in literary science

be among such enterprising people today? The historians of literature

and the philologists supply the building materials without hoping to

build, whereas the literary critics would like to build without any build-

ing materials.

The authors of the first issue of New Literary History and Robert

Weimann' in particular urge a merging of historical and critical work in

literature. Only this can save the writing of literary history from its

present crisis. When, in the nineteenth century, the German and laterthe French schools introduced into the study of literature methods be-

longing to critical philology, it was no longer possible to maintain the

methodological sensitivity of artistic criticism at the level at which it

had existed with Goethe and some of his contemporaries, and which

had resulted in such delicate and harmonious literary procedures, quitedevoid of any pedantic elements. Harry Levin notes that with Tainethe analysis of a literary work degenerated to a summary of its con-

tents.2 And since then we see even less of the original work; literature

i Robert Weimann,"PastSignificanceand PresentMeaning in LiteraryHistory,"New Literary History, I (Autumn, 1969), gI-Iog.

2 The Gates of Horn: A Study of Five French Realists (New York, 1963), p.12.



86 NEW LITERARY HISTORY

has become the training field of cultural and ideological history, sociolo-

gy, biography, source and influence research, and various other disci-

plines. The positivist approach to literature of the last century whichdemanded the exactness of science, having discarded its historical-ideo-

logical and sociological masks, continues with a clear conscience to sur-

vive in our day and to consider its uncompleted tasks of unchanged im-

portance. It has sent literary criticism into exile, and it accepts from

literature only what can be used in its compilations. For this branch of

science, literature is an object, an excuse, rather than an essential ob-

jective. Literary criticism, on the other hand, lives under the illusion

that it has no use whatsoever of science, that is to say, for a consolidated

system, founded on philosophical, aesthetical and historical bases.The fact that the humanities are gradually becoming more and

more specialised disciplines is perhaps proved by their own doubts

whether or not they are really of any use. Doubts of this nature are

dangerous because they primarily discredit the doubter. Branches of

science which once in the past had appealed to as broad a public as a

novel or a play, today can reach the public only through works of

popularisation. On the other hand, works aiming at popularisingscience have only made science even more isolated-by depriving it of

one of its most important functions. This burden should at all timeshave been shouldered by science itself because who is competent to pro-

pagate knowledge better than the one who advances it? There were

days once when the writing of history was an activity belonging to the

sphere of literature, and it can be said that the grandiose frescoes of a

Michelet on the French Revolution (like the novels of Balzac or

Stendhal), have lost nothing of their colors and freshness. Today,

however, history can become a science of life only after having passed

through the hands of middlemen.

Man must use his culture as he uses his muscles. For lack of use both

degenerate. It is the function of the sciences of the arts to teach man-

kind how to use his culture and to provide opportunities to use it. To-

day, all over the world, literary science is primarily maintained in the

field of education. But the use of culture cannot come to an end with

school education any more than the use of our muscles can end after

we have completed our gym courses. However, if literary science wishes

to teach us how literature can be used in our lives, it is evident that it

cannot do this without the tools and methods ofliterary

criticism. A

creation of art is something which always exists in the present. The

Iliad is contemporary with us the moment it becomes present in our

conscience. One of the ambitions of literary history is to bind literaryworks to the time of their birth by bringing back to life the age in which

they were written. And yet, it is our duty to see that those works should



THE DILEMMA OF LITERARY SCIENCE 87

be a part of their own age, but should also become part of ours. The

science of literature can be brought closer to literature by critics who

can write with as fresh an attitude about the works of the past asthey can about modern ones.

The last master who really taught how and why literature should be

used was Goethe. The only way perhaps to make progress is to return

to him.

Of course, we must not revert to the fashion and taste of Goethe

analyzing the themes, structures and details of his albums of engravings.

No, we must return to the type of relationship which he brought about

between himself and art and nature. We must go back to a systematic

and practical relationship in which the regular utilisation-consump-tion-of the arts and of nature was part of man's vital activities. To

break away from nature is just as much a disaster for many as to break

away from culture. In our age both disasters are imminent, or an

already accomplished process. It is not the technical revolution which

has removed us from nature and from art, but it is our inability to use

these properly which has made us waste our increased opportunities on

petty objectives.Goethe's need for art was an ideal one, which could never become

general or widespread. But the democratisation and insertion into

modem life of that ideal objective is a far more urgent task today than

it ever was in his time. The Romantic Movement was still able to re-

new this aim and make it its own. But positivism turned modern civi-

lisation away from this attitude of Goethe's towards art, and it has done

the same for literary history. The schools of thought succeeding posi-tivism agreed with it in not bothering much about the sources of strengthinherent in literature, in not directing towards those sources those who

needed it most. The obstinate cult of

"Beauty" spread

so fast in the

age of positivism because that age was no longer able-as Goethe and

a few of his contemporaries were still able-to use the arts for the goodof Man by teaching him why it was worth while utilising, consuming,the products of art. And Flaubert's idolatry of "Beauty" is a far cryfrom Goethe's use of artistic creation. Goethe systematically returned

time and again to the works of Shakespeare and of Moliere neither

for the pleasure of artistic enjoyment nor primarily for beauty. Goethe

found in art what he found in nature. In both he perceived the pureand effective

ancillarysource of human

existence,that is to

say,the

constantly open opportunities of strength and renewal, of curing and of

enlightenment, of self-search and self-purification. Art consumed in

Goethe's fashion is of practical utility and is a source of concrete

strength. And the utility and strengthgiving power of art should be

revived today under modern conditions. I mean that it is our duty to




acquire and pass on to others the correct use of art. The truest and

most noble aim of the sciences of arts, including literary science, must be

to aim at such an acquisition.Can we today find a discipline that lives up to this task? Admitting

the existence of a modem dilemma, do we consider literary criticism or

literary history capable of complying with that obligation? The fact is

that we can learn just as little from the one as from the other when it

comes to the proper use of the arts, or the ability to turn them into aids

in everyday life. The reason for this is that both disciplines present to

us opportunities, opposed to each other and excluding each other. Onlychaos can result from a situation in which two possibilities depending

on each other have come to exclude each other. In this chaos, neitherliterary criticism nor literary history is in a position to teach the true

utilisation of literature or its acquisition and use as a real support, readyto accept the message radiating from the great artistic creations of the

past.It was positivism that brought literary criticism and literary history

face to face in this acute manner. The breakaway occurred in a waythat tore literary history from the living literary work (i.e. from litera-

ture itself) while depriving literary criticism of a historical approach to

those works. Thus were born pragmatic literary history on the one hand,and impressionist literary criticism on the other. The first knew a lot

about the genesis of literary works, trends, literary atmosphere and

problems pertaining to ideology, the history of culture, sociology, phi-

lology, biography, etc. Whereas the second developed to a high degreethe formal analyses of the works, and later breaking away from impres-sionism, literary criticism discovered their structures and introduced ex-

act, in fact mathematical examinations, into the study of the arts. But

neither could come forward with an answer to the questions: How

should arts be used properly, how can we live with them, how can wederive practical profit from them as moral supports? What Goethe and

a few of his contemporaries knew was no longer known by these modem

and advanced disciplines.The use and the true message of literary products could be best

achieved, if at all, by literary criticism, particularly when it was capableof writing about great books of the past with vivacity and excitement,

just as if these works had been written today. The real critic is forced

to discover the works, and, at the same time he can discover somethingabout their utility, their source of strength and their vital message. Yes,but literature is not made up only of books; it is composed of trends

and phenomena which can be recognized and communicated only by

literary history. Some of these can be of the same value of those in the

work itself. But usually both the work and its history are important.




The real significance of these can never be grasped by studies in the two

separate fields.

In general until the present time literary history was engaged in re-construction work-the reconstruction of a picture of the periods, of

trends and currents in a period, of the birth of literary products, the life

of writers, and so on. In the course of this reconstruction, the historian

of literature is not aiming at the works themselves, but is rather endeav-

oring to revive their time, their period. That is to say, what the

literary products left behind them when through their birth they steppedout of their age, kept pace with moving time, or had already entered

their after-life which was to lead them down to us. The literary his-

torians of the Iliad reconstruct the original period of that work, i.e. itsage, conditions, contemporaries, atmosphere, etc. This type of labor

does not wish to re-discover the work, but is interested in finding out as

many historical, social and cultural details as possible in connexion with

the work. Of course it is possible through those tasks also to reach the

essence of the work, but under the present conditions in these scientific

branches, literary history left to itself has a long way to travel to reach

that goal. Moreover, literary history has turned into a "melancholy

science," just because it rarely undertakes to go so far.

II

In order to obtain a clear idea of the tasks of literary history the best

thing we can do is to start from literature, that is to say, from the works

themselves. The most essential requirement of a literary product is not

that it should be reconstructed but that it should be understood. A book

wants to live, beyond its author and its age-and it is through this that

it is a living work-through the fact that we use it and come into con-tact with it again and again. The conception that literary works have

an autonomous natural existence and personality of their own is exactly

expressed by Georges Poulet when he says: "The work lives its own life

within me; in a certain sense, it thinks itself, and it even gives itself a

meaning within me."3

Witnessing the toilsome life of the writers, we feel that not only theybut also their works put up a desperate fight for survival, against obli-

vion, indifference, the lack of recognition. The struggle of the works for

their own survival is coupled with that of the critics, for the life of theworks. And the works do not require to be treated as archaeological

specimens that must be studied in situ. In other words, it is not neces-

3 Georges Poulet, "Phenomenology of Reading," New Literary History, I

(Autumn, 1969), 59-




saryto placethem back into theiroriginalsite, in theirown past. Liter-

aryproductsareviable so long as they arecapableof beingreborn ime

and again, in the new ages through which man goes. The poeticthought, that the dead die for ever when the time comesthat no onethinks of them any more,appliesalso to literaryworks.

Neitherliterarycriticismnorliteraryhistorycan includeworkswhichhave neverseen the light of day. In spite of this,literaryhistorians eelthat theyare in dutybound to carryalongwith thembookswhichhave

completelysunkinto oblivion and which have only "literaryhistoricalinterest." This dead weight is an unwarrantedone, since it misleadsscience and prevents t fromputtingthe artsto good use for the bene-

fit of man. The historyof literaturemust confine itself to more re-stricted pheresof research,but at the sametime,it must lookfor a moredistantperspective.And this still "distant"perspectiveunder the prop-er conditionsshouldbe the "nearest," hat is to say: the creativeworkitself. In otherwords,the present askof literaryhistory s to find waysand meansof contactingthe creativework while retaining ts own his-torical approachand without turninginto literarycriticism-and yet,still withoutignoringthe lessonsand directivesof that discipline. After

havingcopedwith that problem, iteraryhistorycan succeedin revert-

ing to its own sphere-to the literarysphere-and may returnto thoseworksto which it is necessaryand worthwhile returning.By this way,literaryhistorycomes in answerto the appealfor life of greatbooksofthe past, when it becomes necessaryand worthwhileto answerthat

appeal.Like Lazarus n the Bible the book is waiting to be deliveredfrom

its wounds and sores. A literaryproduct expectsevery age to discoverin it, to listento and to drawfrom it that partwhich refersto the ageand which the age needs. It is necessarythat every age interpret

Shakespearedifferently,because his works were not written only forone age. They demandto be discoveredand re-discovered nd they al-low for this re-discovery;n fact they require t. It is quitepossible, or

instance,for a Japanesedirectorand for Japaneseactorsto revivethefeudalbrutalityand drearinessn Macbethin a mannermost trueto na-

ture,becausethe feudaltypeof man and feudal conditions urvive reshin theirmemory.The poetryof the ElizabethanAge, on the otherhand,strikesthe modem audienceby traitswhich were not even noticed in

Shakespeare'swn days. So that a reconstruction f the originalmean-

ing and effect is reallyusefulonly if it addssomethingto the modemmeaningand effect.

Within the very nature of a work of art there exists a certain in-

difference n respectof what the various ages will discoverin it andwhat they will pick out of it for their own use. This indifference is




akin to the indifference of nature, because both indifferences are at the

same time generous and magnanimous. In a creative work of art this

type of indifference is not incompatible with the desire to live, theyearning to survive. This same yearning is present everywhere in

nature and it includes magnanimous, generous neutrality.Nature gives herself to every man and to every age, and the same

is true of a great work. Nature-and a work is the same in this respect

-permits man in the different ages to have different conceptions of

her and to approach her with different requirements. And, thus, as we

go down the ages, man has different ideas of nature, just as of works

of art.

Literary science is the science of the past and of the present at thesame time. Its task is to re-discover what has already been discovered.

But as this rediscovery refers to the present, it must fulfill the demands

and needs of the present. In this manner, it also becomes a discoveryof the present. Literary history must know and understand its own

age if it wishes to show it what it needs most from other ages. But it

must also clearly understand its own material, for finding the very works

and historical phenomena which are able to supply the present with

real use and help. Not every work, nor every literary manifestation,

serves this purpose, and literary science is not a fortuitous preservationof books, but preservation based on their intrinsic merits.

We must start from an aesthetic basis if we wish to avoid false

dilemmas and if we want to return to the real sphere of literary science

by the shortest road, after having discarded superfluous impedimentaand thrown away misunderstood respect.

Anyhow it is the aesthetic view that will clear up the aim and ex-

tent of the consumption of art, that is to say, literary criticism must pointto that form of literary production which we most need and which we

should meet. It is for the purpose of this meeting that literary criticismbuilds a bridge. The discovery and utilisation of books fighting for their

lives will be determined by what we ourselves are looking for in the arts,that is to say, for what reasons we turn towards culture as a whole.

Hence, it is a problem of vital importance for us to decide which literary

products are still alive-and, therefore, should be "re-discovered" and

passed on for public consumption in our times.

In a train of thought which was broadened and expressed in a

separate study (Specificness, in Hungarian, 1957) as part of his greataesthetic system, Gybrgy Lukaics defines the enriching influence of art

on the Ego. He describes the many-sided help given to us by an artistic

product, arguing that we must conceive this current in general terms.

Its essence is an elevation occurring in the receiver and similar to the

elevation present in the received work of art (p. 241). Art links Man




with mankind, that is to say, mankind in the past as in the present. For

instance, the modern public when submitted to the "evocative power"

of Oedipus Rex or Romeo and Juliet revives its own past, that is to say,not as an individual but "the past as part of humanity" (p. 239). The

expansion of our "everyday personality" and such an elevation of the

Ego is the result of artistic reflection. It can therefore be said that art

leads man to a recognition of "tua res agitur," thus relieving him of soli-

tude, raising him from the particular and deepening his quality as a

human being. This influence which, according to Lukacs, is the re-

flecting function of art (i.e. art as self-cognition in human evolution)

clearly points to the task which faces literary criticism:--to concentrate

its attention on products which cause or bring about such an elevation.Luk~cs developed the category of the "specific" by furtherbroadening

Goethe's concepts of symbol and of allegory. He incorporated Goethe's

ideas regarding the dialectics of the "Specific" and of the "General"

into his own aesthetical system based on the reflective function of the

arts. Hence, we are not wrong in stressing that everything that Goethe

had previously said about art as the reflection ("Abglanz") of Nature is

complemented by a recognition of art as another form of nature ("andre

Natur"). That is to say, according to Goethe art is not only a reflec-

tion, but it is also "another Nature."

Als ich zuerst nach Rom kam, bemerckt ich bald dass ich von Kunst

eigentlich gar nichts verstand und dass ich biss dahin nur den allgemeinenAbglanz der Natur in den Kunstwercken,bewundert und genossen hatte,hier that sich eine andre Natur, ein weiteres Feld der Kunst vor mir auf, jaein Abgrund der Kunst, in den ich mit desto mehr Freude hineinschaute,als ich meinen Blick an die Abgriinde der Natur gewbhnt hatte. 4

This new discovery in no way weakens but on the contrary consoli-dates the principle of art as reflection and opens fresh opportunities for

its use. These are opportunities which must be utilised by literary criti-

cism in the same manner as those arising from the reflection and "tua

res agitur" tenets.

This thought of Goethe's becomes clearer when we remember that it

was born as the fruit of his Italian journey. The concept of art as

"another Nature" helped Goethe over a serious crisis, and, just as in

Lukics's category of the "Specific" the essence is the evocation of

elevation, here too one can recognize the "other" nature's influence asthe supporting factor. Art helped Goethe to find his lost self, to return

4 Letter to Prince Carl August, Rome, January 25, 1788. Goethes Briefe,August 1786-Juni 1788 in Goethes Werke (Weimar, 1887-1912), VIII (Weimar,

1890o), 328.




to his real Ego and to continue the true road from which he had de-

viated-to enter into himself, to be renewed and to be healed. It is thus

that the "Specific" and the "General" merged in a new relation: Theindividual is led through humanity back to himself. Reciprocally, this

condition gives the lost Ego back to the individual, thus leading man

towards humanity.

It is the duty of literary criticism to bring both influences of art againand again to materialization. Because the prerequisites of that ma-

terialization, and the requirements demanded of it, can change con-

siderably from age to age. But within those changes and changing re-

quirements the essence of the influence of art is still elevation, an ex-

pansion of the Ego, and also the safeguarding or regeneration of theintegrity of human existence, a support, a cure, a liberation.

The example of Goethe's Italian journey points still to another

factor: Help came to him not exclusively through art, but also throughhuman relations, contact with nature combined with the deep effect of

art on him. Those three factors brought about a condition which

Goethe lived through and from which he emerged, reborn. This was

a determined historical condition which could never again be broughtabout deliberately or artificially. But we can recognize conditions valid

in our age, and indeed we can influence and remodel them. Not onlydo the literary products fight for the prolongation of their lives, but

art itself also strives towards the regeneration of its role in a regenerating

age. If, to use Lukics's words, art in the past has been waging a fightof independence, now it must fight for its place and its time. And in

this struggle to reconquer space and time, aesthetics, criticism, and

literary science as a whole must do their share.

The tasks of literary criticism, therefore, can best be deciphered from

the natureand influence of this

typeof art

(literature).While

comply-ing with those tasks, criticism necessarily gets close to art and partakesof its nature. It is from the day that history writing denied its relations

with art and that philology took full possession of the literary producton that any reference to the artistic nature of criticism makes him blush.

The exact sciences of the nineteenth century consider as mockery and as

an insult any insinuation that poetry might exist in philosophy. And

yet it has at all times been the aspiration of great poetry to join hands

with philosophy at all levels of thought and cognition. Also, consciously

or subconsciously, great philosophy always stretched out its hand.

III

Whether dealing with great books of the present or the past, literary

criticism brings aesthetic qualities to light, and by so doing, helps the



94 NEWLITERARYISTORY

readers. What task is there left for literary history? Whereas criticism

can find its tasks in the nature of the artistic works and in the influences

of art, literary history can find its tasks only in literary criticism. Failingto do this, the specialist in this field will soon find himself hopelessly far

removed from literature. In fact, he will exile himself from literature

and become a social, ideological or arts, historian who can see onlydead historical documents instead of living artistic forces. Such a

condition has existed for quite a while in literary history, and will con-

tinue to exist until scientists will find themselves forced to recognize the

dilemma between criticism and literary history. As we have seen, this

crisis has developed ever since the age of positivism, and both disciplines

by themselves end up in sterile efforts. We must put an end to thedilemma, but this is possible only if we start from the book as an artistic

creation, i.e., we must give priority to critical-aesthetic considerations,and only afterwards turn to historical problems, then later, from the

sphere of the problems returns to, or rather meet again, the works under

study. Of course, "priority" in this sense is not priority in rank, since

criticism starting from the literary product, and historical research re-

turning to it, are both secondary seen from the point of view of the

book itself. Then instead of the horns of the dilemma, we shall have a

circular movement. But this movement can be initiated only if a criti-cal analysis, apart from aesthetic considerations, is also capable of cop-

ing with the problems of literary history.

By removing the literary product from isolation we can advance

from literary criticism to historical problems. It is almost inevitable

that we bring about a certain amount of isolation when submitting the

work to a critical examination, since our attention is concentrated on

one single work or on a narrow group of works which have somethingin common. From the moment we step out of the individual work

or narrower groups of works or go beyond them, towards epochs, webegin to notice signs and phenomena of given currents. And when in

particular we examine the movements of these (i.e. precedents, develop-ments after the preparations) and see how they fit with each other and

are related-from that moment on we have crossed the frontier of

criticism and find ourselves within the field of literary history which

surveys vast literary sectors, whole epochs and currents-in other words,the advance of literature itself. And everything that we discover in this

fashion is just as much a part of the individual book as the aesthetic

characteristics which have been studied by the literary critic.Historical research opens up a new aspect of the literary product,

an aspect which had to remain untouched by the literary critic. And,

if from the heights of this historical sphere we once again look back on

the work which so far had only been analysed aesthetically, we soon




perceive that also those aesthetic traits have assumed a new significance

by the mere fact of their having been studied not as individual acts of

creation, but as parts of a vast, historical panorama. There is nodoubt that an historical assessment of the book as an artistic creation

gives a deeper and richer meaning to its aesthetic and critical evalua-

tion. If, for instance, we study some works of the years of Goethe's

cooperation with Schiller after 1794 (for example, Hermann und

Dorothea) from an aesthetic point of view, we obtain a new insight into

the typical characteristics of Goethe's classicism and into his specificmethods of artistic creation. On the other hand, if we look at the same

work in its historical connotations (i.e., in the current brought into being

in the last decade of the eighteenth century by the literatures of Ger-many, France, Great Britain, Italy and the central and east European

countries), we come to the conclusion that the classical-humanist art

of Goethe and Schiller was only one of the possible reactions to the

French Revolution. It was a possible reaction which at the same time

had counterparts--similar or different-in early German Romanticism,in Chateaubriand, in Coleridge, and in many others. One glance at a

chronological table of that age will already add particular plasticity to

the "Klassik" of Goethe and Schiller, when we compare it with the

last phase of Burns, the active period in Blake's life, the interest in therevolution evinced by Southey and Coleridge, the works of de Sade

and Restif de la Bretonne which date from the same period, the classi-

cism of Parini and Alfieri, the republican sympathies of Friedrich Schle-

gel, Hblderlin's Hyperion, and the deploying movements represented by

Tieck, Wackenroder, Novalis, Schelling, Jean-Paul, and so on, and so

on.

When studying the many-colored ends as the beginnings of these

currents and within these compare Goethe with these heterogeneous

phenomena, we obtain a picture quite different from the one provided

only by an analysis of his individual work, cut off from everything else.

This synchronic moving pattern of individual phenomena organicallyand logically lead us over to a diachronic (that is to say, truly historical)

approach. Even more than that, our aesthetic assessment of Hermann

und Dorothea will become deeper and richer when we look at it after

what came before: The first part of Wilhelm Meister, Iphegenia, and

Werther. It is perfectly evident that, if we were to disregard these

predecessors of Hermann und Dorothea-as if not the same Goethe

had written them-we would be approaching this work in a defective

manner, both aesthetically and critically. For it is just as importantto have an eye on what came before and after them, as to study individ-

ual events. Critical analyses are starting points from which historical

examinations must proceed. Such starting points of literary criticism




make it possible for literary history to reach truly vital questions and not

lose its way amidst unimportant chores.

The "other" nature of art is not synonomous with immobility; onthe contrary, it represents mobility, and, therefore, historicity. The

critical and the historical approach can properly advance only pro-

viding they start from the work itself, from the inner world of the work.

Later, disregarding the individuality of that work, we must contrast it

with other works, that is to say, place it into the dialectical movement of

historical currents, look at the work from the outside world-and to re-

turn to it again. This operation consisting of going from the inner

world of a work to its historical "ambiance" and back to the work,

demands a close cooperation between literary criticism and literaryhistory, between aesthetics and history, which adds richness to both dis-

ciplines which receive support from each other.

When we compare historicity with the artistic products and when

we conduct historical research on those products, we must not forgetthat the historical milieu surrounding them may not have producedartistic works but have given rise to an influence far stronger than these.

Literary movements, struggles and undertakings of importance are

not always expressed in mature works, but may be found in debates,

programmes, letters, and diaries which, in this respect, are more im-

portant. More than that, events which take place in literature (i.e.

struggles for national and social objectives, fights for the improvementof the lot of peoples or classes), the seeking of ways out from historical

catastrophes, the solving of crises, the desire for purification, strict self-

criticism, etc.-all these elements in literature represent moral acts and

human values which frequently have no connexion with aesthetic

values and which aesthetic analyses can grasp only indirectly. It is

a paramount duty of the literary historian to seek these out and sub-

ject them to historical research.

Of course, these moral values may also manifest themselves aestheti-

cally, but this is not always so, and it often happens that the moral

examples of the history of the arts lie outside of the literary products.The literary historian, when studying the efforts of epochs, groups and

currents, may perceive moral lessons which broaden, or even enhance,those derived from an aesthetic analysis. For those moral examplesshow man himself in actions and in battles which did not necessarilyend in

literary expression. Support

can be derived not

only

from

cognition arising from art, but also straight from history itself. This

means that the moral lessons and influences of culture are just as im-

portant as the helping, specific elevation derived from the arts. Cogni-tion arising from history too elevates man, links him with humanity's

sphere and thus, broadens the Ego and deepens his existence. Literary



THE DILEMMAOF LITERARYSCIENCE 97

historyoffersopportunitiesalso for this type of cognition,and in factit is onlystriving owards this type that it can renew its realhistoricity.

Because he valueof historicitys not determinedby the degreeof exact-ness n the methods,but bythe amountof cognition hat can be reached

through hose methods.

It frequentlyhappens-not unjustly--that historicalresearch s ac-cused of going in circlesaround the literatureor the artsin general,inthe course of which it moves far away from the essentialquestions.Positivism ntroduced researchesn biography,chronology, he historyof the genres,philology,etc. and the ideological,educationaland socio-

logical schools which in modern times have replacedit do not start

working romthe inner world of the book,nordo theywishto return oit. On the other hand, the schools stressingthe importanceof formshut themselvesup so much in that innerworldthat they have no ideaof the utility of "movingbackwards" omewhatand seeing the workin itsproperperspective.

The "positive"partsof literaryhistorycan, in respectof utility and

extent,be determinedonly by the workitself, and when planningsuchkind of work we must "listen to" the suggestionsand advice comingfrom the book. Chronologicalquestionscan sometimesbe decisive,and

at others,negligible. Similarly,the length of the author'sbiographymust be adjustedto the requirements f the work, in which case data

referring o the birth,childhoodor restingplace of the writerare often

quite unimportant. Nor can we any longer handle tasks connected

with the studyof texts and with philologywith the erroneoushumilityadvocatedby the positivists.The texts of by-gone epochsare not all of

the same importanceand neitherhistoricalnorsociological nterestcan

warrant tender preservationof books which are dead. Naturally, all

this does not mean that the scienceof literature s one that deals onlywith "greatworks." If that wereso, even a few of Goethe'splays,someof Balzac'snovelsand a few of Tolstoy'sshortstoriescould be "left out"

of literature It is by means of tact and sensitivity hat the criticsare

able to decide what workspossessboth aestheticand historicalsignif-icance. When we speakof world iteraturewe do not mean an anthologyof beautiful exts,nor,however,do we mean a graveyardof deadbooks.

In world literaturethere are no privileged anguages,nor small or

big powers. Worldliteraturecannot be split up into "big"and "small"

countries,because

greatliteraryproductsdo not result from

economic,political, or other power relation conditions. For instance, if when

studyingRomanticismor Symbolism,we wereto limit ourselves o onlyfour or five west-Europeaniteraturesand if we were to neglect takinginto consideration specific modifications and functions of this current in

central and eastern Europe, we would obtain only a fragmentary pic-




ture of the inherent qualities of those two important literary movements.

Adherence to this principle is important because the more phenomena

it embraces the more interesting and instructive is the historical ap-proach. This, on the other hand, can be achieved only through the com-

parative method. Broad historical examinations of literature can best be

done by means of broad comparative work, since without this the phe-nomena would appear in fragmentary form, and would point to false

conclusions.

The isolated treatment of a national literature often deprives one of

a broader outlook in respect of broader relationships and disregards the

fact that the social and cultural development of the nations assumes

similar forms under similar conditions. It is true that these phenomenaappear earlier at some places and later at others; that is to say that

irregularities (dicalages) are evident, but these are not only deeply

typical of the historical, social and cultural evolution of the different

nations, but sometimes revelatory of the very essence of it.

In the eighteenth century theoretical thought moved more and more

away from classicism based on the imitation of antiquity replacing this

by originality. This resulted within Romanticism in the assertion of na-

tional individuality. The originality of national literatures was em-

phasized by trying to prove that their literary manifestations were u-

nique, were devoid of "influences" from the outside, and because of

their national characteristics, they bore absolutely no relation to the

literatures of other nations. This was an historical necessity for the

literatures becoming bourgeois at the beginning of the nineteenth cen-

tury, and the only right path for them was the realization of their na-

tional originality, which became possible primarily through folk poetry.The most important phenomenon here precisely is that typically, tele-

ologically, the bourgeois literatures at the beginning of the nineteenth

century sought their national originality in the same manner, by turningtowards folk poetry, where they found it. This uniformity, was also

the result of the influence of certain examples (Percy's, Herder's, that

of the collection of romantic folk poems, etc.), but this influence could

assert itself only because this was the way in which those entering a

period of bourgeois development could achieve national originality.Historians of national literatures who dealt with this situation as an

isolated phenomenon failed to grasp its general, historical-type validity.

They did not see the general current of which each national literature

was an additional stream and an organic part. The study of national

literature as an isolated unit thus is bogged down by the details and

gives up real originality in the interest of "originality."

The example given above proves on the one hand that an over-esti-

mation of "influence" research is just as sterile as is a rejection of it




in the name of national originality. On the other hand, it also shows

that rather than pointing out influences, it is more important to sub-

ject the various literatures to a comparative, or more precisely, aconfronting examination and to draw general conclusions from it.

One of the lessons we can learn is that it was always the more origi-nal geniuses who were open to outside influences and inspiration-which did not hinder but fostered originality. From Goethe's opinionsand methods it is evident that he did not consider it a blemish on orig-

inality to take over solutions which others had proved to be good ones.

Literary influences go hand in hand with assimilation. For instance,

Byron's influence in Hungary gave rise to a plebeian poetry, that is to

say, the inspiration existing in the "influence" gave rise to results nottypical of the original. When we examine only those elements which

came into being as a result of "influences" we will see that here too

the writers taking them over will assimilate them by changing their

form and direction in accordance with their own requirements and

situation. The "influence" of German Romanticism brought about

different results in French, or in Polish literatures. The advocates

of independent, national literature devoid of foreign elements are

willing only to note phenomena which they consider autochtho-

nous, when in fact they are only analogous. The historians of theFrench Romantic Movement, for example, for a time were not will-

ing to notice the influence of German and English inspiration-thus making it impossible to see in what an original manner the French

had assimilated foreign romantic examples and had applied them to

their own purpose. The disregard of the dialectics of influence and

assimilation also prevented them from perceiving the deeper reasons

in their national literary or social evolution which had necessitated this

influence. Accepting an influence implies selection; faced with various

types and forms of inspiration, authors borrow those which they need.

Grasping the reason for this selection leads us to an understanding of

the particularities of literary evolution.

There was a time when the comparative method limited itself to

discovering influences. If we wish to use comparison for a broader un-

derstanding of literary historicity, we must encourage confrontations

so as to discover analogies or parallel divergencies in the various na-

tional literatures or in a given period of world literature. This combi-

nation ofcomparison

and confrontation also containspossibilities

for

the regeneration of the historical method. This would demand in the

future that we should study national literatures not as unique, isolated

phenomena, but in combination with other literatures from which

examples and inspiration have been borrowed and which have certain

similarities in their process of development.



I00 NEW LITERARY HISTORY

The literary analogies or parallels always come into being as the

result of analogous or parallel historical and social development. This

parallelism, it is true, is often hidden beneath irregularities and varia-tions, but it is present. The typological method worked out by V. M.

Shirmunsky helps to bring to light the parallel literary phenomenawhich arise from the parallelism of historical and social factors.

Similar artistic types and trends appear under similar historical and

social conditions. Recognizing the truth of this axiom, the typologicalmethod makes it possible by means of analogies to spread out to broad-

er areas and to penetrate into conditions existing in less well-known

literatures. The discovery of typological parallelisms brings the dif-

ferent literatures closer to each other, eliminates their seeming isolationand shows that they all are parts of the same movement. The circle of

similar phenomena-types can truly be considered as typical and realistic

when they are strengthened by the similarity of the general currents and

movements. Typology cannot content itself with a static picture, and

it considers the current-types more important than the phenomena-

types. That is to say, real typological relationship does not mean, for

example, that similar genres arise in literatures under the influence of

folk poetry, but that literatures in which national and bourgeois poetry

develops turn towards folk poetry and that some of these literaturescarry on further in the same manner the elements which have been

drawn from this poetry.If the arts can be considered "another" nature, then too they must

be considered as "another" history. The help which comes from nature

and from history can be found together in the arts. We need both

types of help if we wish to preserve the essence of humanity and if we

wish to possess nature as well as history. Literary criticism and literary

history can combine their tasks and complement each other if they are

directed toward the acquisition of both types of support. This is theonly method by which the details will dissolve in the whole, and to-

gether with the details, the whole will become a science not "in usum

Delphinorum" but "in usum Hominum."

INSTITUTE FOR LITERARY SCHOLARSHIP

OF THE HUNGARIAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

(Translated byRene

Bonnerjea)

the dilemma of literary science

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