The parallel between Donne and Juvenal is exact. They are both moralists, and Donne’s moralising is of the same kind as Juvenal’s. If we can feel that Donne is like Juvenal, we recognise at once what that kind of moralising implies, and is not to be confused with. It is essentially the moralising which arises from the intellectual conscience; and that is the moralising, not of the general reader, but of the student or the scholar, who approaches life from the point of view of knowledge. Donne’s moralising is therefore not like Dryden’s; and the distinction between them is not accidental but one which touches the very soil of the two organisations. Dryden is popular, Donne is not; Dryden speaks the language of common sense and of practical experience, whilst Donne speaks the language of a temperamental intellectual conscience.
The true metaphysical poets are, in this as in other things, not merely French or Italian, but have a long history in English literature. The essential quality of their poetry is a life of thought and feeling fused and directed by an intelligence, not, as in the case of the conventional love-poet, two things which are only juxtaposed. Their object is not to show that emotion can be ornamented by thought, but that thought and emotion can be one. Donne’s temperament, indeed, is not merely metaphysical; he is impassioned and sensuous also. But the passional element in him is controlled, chastened and made precise by the intellectual and moral energy which belongs to the metaphysical tradition.
What, then, is the metaphysical manner? It is the style which uses argument, like a lawyer, to define a moral and social situation; and it seeks to discover the terms in which religious and ethical experience can be formulated. It is not concerned with mere vacillation between alternate states of feeling; it aims at unity and at the solution of a problem. The powers of the mind, which are employed by the metaphysical imagination, are the powers which, in ordinary life, are dedicated to the clarification of ideas, to the definition of terms, to the disentanglement of confusion. For the metaphysical poet an intellectual act may be a passion.
The technique of the metaphysical poets, which is their most distinguishing characteristic, consists in the use of original and unexpected metaphors, in the concentration of thought, and in the boldness of the reasoning. The conceit, as it has been called, is not merely an ornament; it is the organising principle of the poem. The image is not decorative, but structural; it is the means by which disparate elements are welded together into a single pattern. The conceit often demands a subtle or recondite analogy; it is not content with obvious comparisons, but seeks a likeness which will illuminate the subject by a sudden and startling correspondence.
It has been customary to attribute to the metaphysical poets, and to Donne in particular, a certain harshness of style, a ruggedness and jaggedness of expression which is the reverse of the smoothness of the classical school. This roughness, however, is not merely accidental. It is the result of an honest attempt to discover words adequate to a new experience. The metaphysical poets were in revolt against the smooth and homogeneous diction of the Elizabethans; they sought a language which should be precise and incisive, able to deal with paradox and subtlety, with the complexities of the moral life.
The metaphysical tendency did not die with Donne. It has recurred at intervals in English poetry. In Dryden’s time it reappears in a different form; and again in Pope it takes on an epigrammatic cleanness. The later eighteenth century owed to the metaphysical movement a certain emphasis upon the balance of intellect and sensibility. Yet the genuine metaphysical poem is rare; it requires a temperament which can combine passion with thought, and a style which can express that combination without sacrificing spontaneity to pedantry.
To appreciate Donne we must first understand the intellectual and religious ferment of his age. The complexity of his mind reflects the complexity of his world, and his metaphysical method is a response to the conflicting pressures of that world. He seeks to express a conscience which is both learned and fervent; and in doing so he creates images which are often grotesque, sometimes sublime—because they are compelled to reconcile heterogeneous elements.
If we ask why Donne and his fellows have been neglected by some critics, the answer is that their standards of taste have been dominated by classical ideals of harmony and proportion. The metaphysical manner is not classical; it is baroque, it favours contrast and sudden movement rather than harmony. To those who expect music and smoothness, the metaphysical poets will seem inharmonious; but to those who are ready to accept a logic of passion, which may be abrupt and jagged, their work will appear indispensable.
The study of the metaphysical poets is not a mere antiquarian pursuit. It confronts us with the problem of how thought and feeling are to be united in poetry, and compels us to consider the relation of sensibility to intellect. Their achievement is to show that poetry can be a mode of thought, and that the intellect, when animated by feeling, can discover an intensity of expression which is not the property of either element alone.