A history of criticism and literary taste in Europe from the earliest texts to the present day. Volume 2 (of 3), From the Renaissance to the decline of eighteenth century orthodoxy

In Short

George Saintsbury’s A History of Criticism and Literary Taste in Europe, Volume 2, surveys European literary theory from the Renaissance through the late eighteenth century. The volume charts the development, dominance, and eventual fracturing of Neo-Classical orthodoxy across Italy, France, England, and Spain. Saintsbury examines how scholars, poets, and polemicists transformed ancient models—principally Horace and Aristotle—into rigid codes of composition, and how creative writers repeatedly broke through those constraints. Beginning with humanists like Erasmus and Italian commentators who systematized poetic rules, the work moves through the French Pléiade, the debates of the seventeenth century, and the critical triumphs of English figures like John Dryden and Samuel Johnson. It concludes as the neo-classic framework begins to bend under new aesthetic inquiries. The book endures because it evaluates centuries of critical doctrine not through abstract philosophy, but through direct contact with literature itself, written with lively erudition and an unwavering defense of artistic freedom.

The Story

Saintsbury’s second volume opens at the dawn of the Renaissance, a moment when European scholars rediscovered classical antiquity and attempted to turn ancient practice into absolute law. In Italy, humanists set about cataloging metres, defining genres, and establishing the exact boundaries of poetic form. Erasmus stands at this threshold as an immense figure of learning whose interests leaned toward applied text-criticism and erudition rather than pure aesthetic appreciation. Scholars like Minturno and Scaliger soon pushed further, analyzing poetic material, verse structures, and the formal distinctions between rhythm and metre. Minturno detailed these principles across massive Latin and Italian treatises, while Scaliger declared verse to be the very raw material of the poetic art. Italian theorists rapidly turned criticism into a recognized, organized discipline, debating the nature of epic and drama while colonizing the rest of Europe with their methods.

As Italian critical models spread, French writers adapted them to build a national literature. Joachim du Bellay issued his Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française, urging writers to abandon older medieval verse forms and strengthen the vernacular by schooling it in classical models. Du Bellay rejected mere translation, demanding an ambitious assimilation of ancient genius. Later in the sixteenth century, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye offered a desultory, Horatian survey of French poetry, less concerned with disinterested theory than with practical instruction for contemporary creators. Yet even as the French movement grew, it displayed a rising obsession with verbal correctness and formal restraint. Francois de Malherbe soon emerged as a stern verbal disciplinarian, enforcing rigid laws of rhyme, banishing unwanted vocabulary, and policing the cæsura with uncompromising zeal.

This movement toward strict regulation found its sharpest expression in the French theatre and the formalization of Neo-Classicism. Pierre Corneille, caught between his creative instincts and the demands of official doctrine, examined his own dramatic practice alongside Aristotle’s Poetics. In his three Discourses and his play-by-play Examens, Corneille wrestled with the famous Three Unities of time, place, and action, attempting to reconcile classical authority with the practical demands of the stage. Shortly after, Boileau codified these doctrines in his Art Poétique, elevating reason, clear expression, and formal decorum while dismissing low or burlesque styles. French criticism under Boileau demanded that genius be countersigned by good sense, leaving a legacy of strict rules that dominated European taste for generations, even as insightful observers like La Bruyère defended the irregular genius of Molière and Corneille.

In England, critical thought followed a more erratic but ultimately more flexible path. Early English commentators often stumbled over moralistic fallacies; Roger Ascham famously attacked popular chivalric romances like the Morte d'Arthur on moral and theological grounds, blind to their artistic charm. Sir Philip Sidney defended poetry against such attacks, yet he too absorbed classical prejudices, declaring verse unnecessary to poetry while roundly condemning the native practice of tragi-comedy. As the seventeenth century progressed, writers like Sir William Alexander recorded personal impressions of classical and modern poets, illustrating a growing appetite for critical judgment.

The true turning point in English criticism arrived with John Dryden. Facing the rigid doctrines imported from the Continent, Dryden introduced a flexible, comparative method that championed English creative freedom. In the Essay of Dramatic Poesy and a brilliant series of prefaces, Dryden balanced classical rules against the actual practice of Shakespeare and Fletcher. He defended rhymed plays, provided nuanced theories of translation, and analyzed the distinct qualities of ancient and modern authors. Though dogmatic metrists like Edward Bysshe tried to reduce English verse to rigid, mechanical syllable-counting, Dryden’s broad-minded approach ensured that English criticism remained grounded in readerly enjoyment rather than abstract tyranny.

By the eighteenth century, the neo-classic consensus began to fracture under its own weight. In Britain, writers like Jonathan Swift turned devastating satire against pedantic quarrels, as seen in The Battle of the Books. Scholars like Dr. George Campbell re-imagined rhetoric as the Philosophy of Rhetoric, defining eloquence as the art of adapting discourse to its end and transforming old rhetorical rules into a broader study of literature. Samuel Johnson brought the neo-classic tradition to its highest mature expression in his Lives of the Poets. Johnson evaluated masters like Dryden and Pope with remarkable biographical and critical justice, writing from the same cultural platform as his subjects while remaining firm in his practical good sense.

Across the rest of Europe, the classical doctrine ran its course toward exhaustion. In Spain, great creators like Tirso de Molina, Cervantes, and Lope de Vega had long defended modern theatrical freedom against rigid classicists, arguing that drama must adapt to its audience and reflect life's complexity. In Germany, Gottsched made a late, uncompromising attempt to enforce strict classical orthodoxy in his Versuch einer Critischen Dichtkunst, surrounding his work with formal dedications and traditional invocations. By the end of the century, critics like La Harpe in France exemplified the final, dogmatic decline of the old system, judging ancient epics and modern drama solely by narrow rational standards. The volume closes on the eve of a major transformation, showing how three centuries of rules ultimately gave way to a wider, more imaginative appreciation of world literature.

How It Unfolds

The Renaissance awakening Scholars across Europe rediscover classical texts and attempt to formulate the principles of literary composition. Erasmus applies scientific textual scrutiny to ancient works, while Italian theorists establish criticism as a distinct literary discipline through elaborate Latin and Italian dialogues.

Formulating the rules Italian critics like Minturno and Scaliger catalog metrical forms and define poetic material, turning classical practice into formal doctrine. Their extensive treatises establish a body of authority that quickly spreads beyond Italy to influence the rest of the continent.

Strengthening the vernacular In France, Du Bellay champions the French language, urging poets to reform and enrich it through deep study of classical and foreign models. Later, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye offers a desultory Horatian guide aimed at guiding contemporary poetic creation rather than abstract theory.

The rise of verbal discipline Malherbe introduces strict regulations to French poetry, proscribing imperfect rhymes, policing metre, and rejecting expansive vocabularies. This marks a shift toward formal precision, setting the stage for strict neo-classical orthodoxy.

Reconciling genius with authority Corneille examines his own dramatic masterpieces against Aristotelian rules, writing prefaces and discourses that attempt to justify his theatrical choices under the strict doctrine of the Unities. Meanwhile, Boileau codifies these classical standards in his Art Poétique.

Early English struggles English writers wrestle with continental theories and moral prejudices. Ascham attacks traditional chivalric romances on ethical grounds, while Sidney defends the dignity of poetry but yields to classical authority by rejecting tragi-comedy and dramatic irregularity.

Dryden’s flexible comparative method John Dryden transforms English criticism by balancing classical rules against native creative achievement. Through his prefaces and the Essay of Dramatic Poesy, he celebrates Shakespeare and Fletcher, establishing a broad, flexible approach centered on literary pleasure.

The eighteenth-century transition Swift parodies scholarly pedantry in The Battle of the Books, while Campbell reframes rhetoric as a general philosophy of literary communication. Samuel Johnson provides the definitive neo-classical appraisal of English poets, combining firm moral sense with deep literary insight.

The decline of orthodoxy In France and Germany, late classicists like La Harpe and Gottsched enforce rigid standards to an extreme degree, judging all poetry by strict rational rules. This dogmatic narrowing signals the end of neo-classical dominance and paves the way for a broader critical revolution.

The People

• Erasmus: The preeminent scholar on the bridge of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. He seeks textual accuracy, exegetical clarity, and scientific learning. His immense scholarly energy is directed primarily toward applied literature and text-criticism rather than purely aesthetic appreciation, leaving a legacy of vast erudition.
• Antonio Sebastiano (Minturno): An Italian scholar who embodies sixteenth-century diligence. He desires to systematize poetic theory across comprehensive Latin and Italian works, using structured dialogues to explore classical metres, vernacular poetry, and formal literary types.
• Julius Caesar Scaliger: A deeply dyed humanist pedant who seeks to define the very raw material of poetry. He insists that verse, feet, and metre constitute the physical stuff with which a poet works, attempting to establish definitive rules for classical composition.
• Joachim du Bellay: A key figure of the French Pléiade who wants to elevate French to the level of classical tongues. Hindered by the Renaissance tendency to scorch older medieval literature, he ultimately succeeds in outlining a bold program to strengthen the vernacular through classical imitation.
• Francois de Malherbe: A uncompromising French verbal critic who aims to purge poetry of obscure vocabulary and metrical laxity. He enforces rigid laws of rhyme and cæsura, acting as a relentless disciplinarian who prioritizes formal clarity over emotional warmth.
• Pierre Corneille: A master French dramatist caught between his creative instinct and strict neo-classical rules. He seeks to defend his dramatic works against pedantic critics, carefully analyzing Aristotle to reconcile his own dynamic plays with the rigid doctrine of the Unities.
• Nicolas Boileau: A natural satirist and influential critic who aims to establish good sense, reason, and formal decorum as the supreme laws of poetry. He codifies neo-classical taste, warning against low burlesque and unpolished flights of fancy.
• Sir Philip Sidney: An English poet and critic who wishes to defend poetry against moralistic attacks. Though limited by the sparse English dramatic models of his day, he produces a noble defense of verse while reluctantly accepting classical strictures against tragi-comedy.
• John Dryden: The central figure of English criticism who seeks to liberate native literature from narrow continental dogmatism. Armed with a flexible, comparative method, he defends the rich complexity of Shakespeare and Fletcher, leaving behind a body of prefaces that champion artistic liberty and readerly delight.
• Samuel Johnson: The great eighteenth-century English critic who aims to evaluate literature through practical good sense and moral insight. Writing with intimate knowledge of his contemporaries, he delivers monumental judgments on Dryden and Pope that mark the highest point of mature neo-classical criticism.
• Jean-François de La Harpe: A late French critic who seeks to enforce classical rules with unyielding severity. Trapped by a narrow rationalism that rejects whatever he cannot immediately comprehend, he represents the final, rigid decline of neo-classical orthodoxy.

In Its Own Voice

When assessing the great Italian scholar who stood between the medieval and modern worlds, Saintsbury notes how his scholarly focus shaped his critical output:

"Standing as he does, the most eminent literary figure of Europe on the bridge of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, nothing if not critical as he is in his general temperament, and on the textual and exegetical, if not on the strictly literary sides of the Art, one of its great historical figures—his absence from this gallery would be justly regarded as inexcusable."

Evaluating the strict metrical restrictions that eighteenth-century manuals attempted to impose upon English poetry, Saintsbury highlights the severe cost of such artificial rules:

"All the infinite variety of true English prosody, all the gliding or melting trochees, all the passion and throb which trisyllabic feet give to iambic verse, were sacrificed, all freedom of pause was relinquished, and the decasyllable tramped, the octosyllable tripped, as regularly and as monotonously as a High Dutch grenadier or a Low Dutch clock."

Reflecting on the dogmatic limitations of late eighteenth-century critics like La Harpe, Saintsbury cites a single candid admission that exposes the fundamental flaw of the entire neo-classical decay:

"It is in his fragment on the last-named poet that he gives us his whole secret, with one of those intentional, yet really unconscious, bursts of frankness which have been already noticed. 'La poésie,' he says, 'ne doit me peindre que ce que je peux comprendre, admettre, ou supposer.'"

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume investigates the long historical struggle between formal authority and creative freedom. Saintsbury tracks how European thinkers took the dynamic, contextual observations of ancient Greek and Roman writers and turned them into rigid, unyielding laws. The central argument demonstrates that whenever critical theory loses touch with the actual experience of reading, it degenerates into empty pedantry.

The book repeatedly exposes the major intellectual fallacy that beset the Renaissance and Enlightenment: judging a work of art not by the artistic pleasure it provides, but by external political, ethical, or pseudo-rational standards. From Ascham’s rejection of medieval romance to La Harpe’s dismissal of Homeric epics, Saintsbury shows how critics frequently allowed narrow prejudices to blind them to genuine aesthetic achievement. Against this tendency, the text champions a comparative, catholic approach to literature—one that treats rules as descriptive tools rather than prescriptive chains.

Underneath its detailed survey of forgotten manuals and famous prefaces, the book asks fundamental questions about the critic's true role. Should a critic act as a schoolmaster enforcing arbitrary boundaries, or as an open-minded interpreter who helps readers appreciate beauty wherever it appears? By highlighting how great creative artists like Dryden, Corneille, and Tirso de Molina pushed back against dogmatic theorists, Saintsbury proves that living literature will always overflow the rigid categories designed to contain it.

Why Read It Today

George Saintsbury’s second volume is a masterclass in literary history, written with immense learning, sharp wit, and a total absence of academic pomposity. For modern readers, it offers an astonishingly complete tour through the intellectual machinery that shaped western literature from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment. Rather than treating old critical debates as dry museum pieces, Saintsbury brings them to life, showing how the tension between classical rules and modern innovation continues to influence how we read, evaluate, and talk about books today.

What stays with the reader is Saintsbury’s distinctive, unapologetic voice. He writes as a deeply read companion who has personally examined every obscure quarto and dusty Latin manual he mentions. His prose is lively, opinionated, and full of vivid metaphors—equating metrical stiffness to a marching grenadier or comparing pedantic critics to overly cautious coachmen. He cuts through centuries of accumulated commentary to ask simple, devastating questions: Did this critic actually read the work? Did they understand what makes poetry give pleasure? His judgments are grounded in a profound respect for creative genius, celebrating those rare critics like Dryden and Johnson who evaluated literature with flexibility, warmth, and practical good sense.

The book is not without its demands. Readers must navigate a dense landscape filled with extensive foreign-language titles, Latin phrasing, and detailed references to minor Renaissance scholars. Saintsbury assumes a reader who is willing to take literature seriously and who does not mind encountering untranslated terms or intricate historical digressions. Yet for those willing to match his energy, the reward is an unexcelled education in literary taste. It teaches us to distrust rigid critical dogmas, to recognize the timeless fallacies that recur in every age, and to keep our eyes firmly on the genuine pleasure that great books provide.