ubject. And we
should not say this if he wrote a bad poem on a pin's head. Conversely,
a good poem on a pin's head would almost certainly transform its subject
far more than a good poem on the Fall of Man. It might revolutionize its
subject so completely that we should say, "The subject may be a pin's
head, but the substance of the poem has very little to do with it."

This brings us to another and a different antithesis. Those figures,
scenes, events, that form part of the subject called the Fall of Man,
are not the substance of Paradise Lost; but in Paradise Lost there are
figures, scenes, and events resembling them in some degree. These, with
much more of the same kind, may be described as its substance, and may
then be contrasted with the measured language of the poem, which will
be called its form. Subject is the opposite not of form but of the whole
poem. Substance is within the poem, and its opposite, form, is also
within the poem. I am not criticizing this antithesis at present, but
evidently it is quite different from the other. It is practically the
distinction used in the old-fashioned criticism of epic and drama, and
it flows down, not unsullied, from Aristotle. Addison, for example, in
examining _Paradise Lost_ considers in order the fable, the characters,
and the sentiments; these will be the substance: then he considers the
language, that is, the style and numbers; this will be the form. In like
manner, the substance or meaning of a lyric may be distinguished from
the form.

Now I believe it will be found that a large part of the controversy we
are dealing with arises from a confusion between these two distinctions
of substance and form, and of subject and poem. The extreme formalist
lays his whole weight on the form because he thinks its opposite is the
mere subject. The general reader is angry, but makes the same mistake,
and gives to the subject praises that rightly belong to the substance. I
will read an example of what I mean. I can only explain the following
words of a good critic by supposing that for the moment he has fallen
into this confusion: "The mere matter of all poetry--to wit, the
appearances of nature and the thoughts and feelings of men--being
unalterable, it follows that the difference between poet and poet will
depend upon the manner of each in applying language, metre, rhyme,
cadence, and what not, to this invariable material." What has become
here of the substance of _Paradise Lost_