Elements of Criticism, Volume II

In Short

This work is a rigorous, philosophical investigation into the principles of aesthetic judgment, tracing the foundations of taste back to human nature itself. By examining why certain sights, sounds, and sentiments please or offend, the text moves beyond mere opinion to establish a systematic theory of criticism. It remains a foundational document in the history of literary theory because it insists that art is not an isolated pursuit, but a reflection of the rational and emotional architecture common to all people, bridging the gap between philosophy and the fine arts.

The Story

The argument begins by establishing the unique position of humanity within the natural order. Man is distinguished from the brute creation not merely by rational capacity, but by a refined perception of order, congruity, and propriety. These qualities are not subjective whims but are rooted in the very structure of our minds. The inquiry proceeds by mapping how our perceptions connect to our passions; we are naturally framed to require a correspondence between objects, and when this harmony is violated—whether in dress, behavior, or the construction of a poem—we feel an immediate, intuitive sense of incongruity.

From these foundational principles, the investigation expands into the nature of human dignity. True dignity is not found in the expression of base or disagreeable passions like revenge or vanity, but in the exercise of the understanding and the pursuit of noble action. The author argues that contemplation of general truths and the practice of generosity and heroism ennoble the human character. Consequently, the fine arts, when studied as a rational science, attain a high rank in human experience, providing a dignity of entertainment far superior to simple, unreflective taste.

The focus then shifts to the mechanics of expression, particularly within literature. The author critiques the tendency of lesser writers to employ "false coin"—meaningless, artificial language—when depicting intense emotions. A master, such as Shakespeare, avoids this by tuning his sentiments to the precise "tone" of the passion at hand. If a writer can truly inhabit the character, the language follows naturally; if not, the result is a discordant mess of strained metaphors and artificial grief. The text provides numerous examples of where authors fall into "faulty sentiments," showing how even celebrated poets can fail when their language becomes disconnected from the genuine, heart-felt reality of the human condition.

Finally, the work turns to the formal properties of language, such as the relationship between sound and meaning, and the rhythmic structure of verse. The author challenges conventional grammarians, arguing that the true measure of a line of poetry is not found in abstract feet like dactyles or spondees, but in the natural pauses that dictate how a line is spoken. By analyzing the "melody" of English verse, the text provides a prescriptive guide for writers. It concludes by evaluating the utility of rhyme, suggesting that while it can elevate a light or trivial subject, it often acts as a "dead weight" when applied to grand or serious themes, as it forces the language into artificial constraints that obscure the clarity of human emotion.

How It Unfolds

The foundation of taste The text establishes that our perception of order and propriety is a fundamental human trait that separates us from the animal kingdom. It posits that this sense is the bedrock of all critical judgment and moral order.

The hierarchy of passion The argument distinguishes between base, low-level emotions and the higher, ennobling passions. It asserts that dignity is an objective quality achieved through rational thought and virtuous, heroic action.

The failure of artifice Through a critical analysis of dramatic poetry, the author illustrates how writers often fail by prioritizing complex metaphors over the true "tone" of human feeling. It exposes the "faulty sentiments" of poets who attempt to describe grief or joy without grounding their language in psychological reality.

The mechanics of sound The investigation moves into the physical realm of language, exploring how the sound of words, independent of their meaning, impacts the mind. It argues that a rougher language can actually be more invigorating than a smooth one, as the effort of pronunciation rouses the listener to attention.

The critique of versification The final movement redefines how we should understand poetic rhythm and meter. By shifting the focus from abstract rules to the natural, spoken pause, it offers a functional, reader-centered theory for evaluating the quality of verse.

The People

The text is driven by the internal "rational being" that resides in all of us, acting as the ultimate judge of congruity and fitness. This idealized spectator is the standard by which all art is measured. Alongside this universal figure, the author frequently calls upon the giants of literature—Shakespeare, Pope, and Milton—to serve as the primary evidence for his claims. Shakespeare is held up as the gold standard of dramatic writing because he intuitively aligns his characters' language with their internal states, never resorting to "general declamation." Conversely, the author is unafraid to challenge figures like Congreve, Tasso, or Ariosto, pointing out where their technical choices—such as the overuse of rhyme or the inclusion of "strained" metaphors—detract from the essential dignity of their work. The "gentleman of taste" and the "grammarian" also appear as foils; the former represents the potential for refined judgment, while the latter is often depicted as a pedant who misses the forest of natural beauty for the trees of artificial, abstract rules.

In Its Own Voice

"Upon this account, no discipline is more suitable to man, or more congruous to the dignity of his nature, than that by which his taste is refined, to distinguish in every subject, what is regular, what is orderly, what is suitable, and what is fit and proper."

This passage introduces the central premise that the refinement of taste is a moral and intellectual duty essential to human dignity.

"Shakespear is superior to all other writers in delineating passion; his sentiments are adjusted, with the greatest propriety, to the peculiar character and circumstances of the speaker; and the propriety is not less perfect betwixt his sentiments and his diction."

The author uses this observation to distinguish between writers who merely mimic passion and those who truly inhabit the psychological life of their characters.

"It requires a genius greater than has hitherto existed, to support a poem of any length in a tone much more elevated than that of the melody."

This warning highlights the author’s skepticism regarding the ability of rhyme to sustain the weight and gravity of serious, high-minded themes.

What It's Really About

The central question beneath the analysis is whether aesthetic beauty is a divine, immutable law of the universe or an extension of human biology and psychology. The author argues that because we are "so framed by nature," our appreciation for order and propriety is not merely social conditioning but a reflection of how our minds are built to process the world. The work treats criticism as a branch of science, stripping away the mystery of "genius" to show that successful art relies on the precise alignment of human emotion with formal expression. Ultimately, it seeks to prove that to understand art is to understand the self, and that the "dignity of nature" is preserved only through the disciplined application of taste.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the rigor of Enlightenment-era philosophy—where the goal is to map the entire map of human experience—will find this a rewarding, if demanding, companion. It feels like a lecture from a brilliant, slightly exacting tutor who assumes you are as capable of deep observation as he is. You will not find modern, conversational prose here; instead, you encounter a formal, precise language that requires patience and close attention to unravel. The book is lengthy and can feel dense, especially when the author delves into the technicalities of prosody or classical grammar. However, the reward is a heightened awareness of your own reactions to the world around you. You will come away with a permanent, sharpened vocabulary for describing why a piece of music works, why a poem feels "off," or why certain behaviors strike you as inherently dignified. While some of the period-specific references and attitudes toward foreign languages may feel dated, the core of the book—a relentless demand that we pay attention to our own perceptions—remains as relevant and bracing today as it was in the eighteenth century. It teaches you how to look at the world and recognize the architecture of your own experience.