The influence of [Richards' "Principles of Literary Criticism"] has been at least as important on the negative as on the positive side. It has been largely responsible for the final breakdown of the "magical" view of literature, the view that literature, like art generally, is a mystical activity unlike any other. And this in turn has meant the gradual elimination from serious criticism of the simple "Oh, how wonderful" approach. On the positive side the influence has been less uniform. In grounding a theory of value upon description Richards has, all unwittingly, fathered a host of rather muddle-headed critics who seem to have been unable to see that only a psychological concept of function can bridge the gap between the descriptive and the normative. Using some of Richards' scientific tools (with tools from psychology generally) without his scientific method, these critics have confused a description of psychological origins with an assessment of value. (pp. 96-7)

But Richards cannot be held responsible for the confusions of those who may be utilizing some of his ideas, any more than he is to blame for the host of dilettante psychologists who regularly pass off impressionistic chatter for profound analysis simply by the use of psychological terminology…. More desirable and more important is the influence Richards has had on serious and informed critics who are interested in the problems of literary form, poetic imagery and meaning. Here the application of psychology, encouraged by Richards, has proved most illuminating, and some of the best work done in practical criticism today, especially in America, is in this field. Psychology has not only won the right to recognition as an important tool in investigating the processes of literature, but that right is also being increasingly justified in practice. William Empson on ambiguity, George Rylands on poetic diction, the Scrutiny group … on problems of culture generally, all seem to owe something to Richards, while in this country Kenneth Burke, among many others, has been applying psychological knowledge to discussions of poetic form. Without accepting Richards' system—his general view of value, of civilization and of the relation of the arts to other kinds of human activity—these and other critics have profited by using some of his tools effectively.

Thus the influence of the "Principles" has been threefold. First, it has helped to eliminate obscurantism from criticism. Second, it has, through no fault of Richards', contributed to a common contemporary confusion between explanation of origin and demonstration of value. Third, it has provided new and important critical tools which have on occasions—though by no means as often as might be wished—been used with considerable skill.

[The] logic of Richards' work consists in a movement from description to evaluation, with the concept of function introduced to bridge the two. But there remains the problem of transferring a view of value in states of consciousness to a view of value in literature. For a work of literature to be valuable it must produce a valuable state of mind…. But whether any given work of literature actually does produce such a state of mind is a question that he doesn't fully answer.

This is one of the most serious weaknesses in ["Principles of Literary Criticism"], and it seems to arise from the fact that Richards is not nearly so well up in literature as he is in psychology. It is extraordinary that in all his discussion of literary value he never refers to more than a handful of concrete instances, and that these are all short poems. In his reaction against the view which regards qualities in art, such as Beauty, as existing wholly objectively in the given work, Richards insists that Beauty is simply the effect of the work on those who deem it beautiful, and as a result starts his inquiry by discussing states of consciousness, forgetting for the time being all about art. When he has achieved an adequate theory of value that will apply to states of consciousness, he goes back to his works of art with the cheerful assumption that his theory will apply, that adequate works of art will be those that take their origin from such states in the author and communicate them to the reader. But nowhere is there a sustained attempt to prove this. We have the feeling that literature is being forced into the pattern by somewhat Procrustean methods.

Richards maintains that literary evaluation must be based on "a general theory of value which will show the place and function of the arts in the whole system of values." (p. 97)

Richards' general position could perhaps be called psychological Benthamism…. And some of the same objections that have been brought against Benthamism can be brought against the views expressed in the "Principles."…

Richards is surely right in regarding literature as a means to a desirable end rather than as a desirable "thing" in itself; but there are many possible and equally desirable ends, which require integration. And further, these ends are not separate and distinct, but have complex and shifting relations to each other. The desirability of any given end cannot be gauged by contemplating it in isolation, as Richards tends to do; it can be assessed only with reference to the context within which it occurs.

The relation of art to morality, Richards maintains, has been misunderstood in the past because the whole nature of ethics was misunderstood. Both the Horatian pill-gilders and the Humanists failed to appreciate the real nature of the connection between art and motals, since their view of both art and morality was inadequate. For Richards, "the problem of morality, the problem of how we are to obtain the greatest value from life, becomes a problem of organization, both in the individual life and in the adjustment of the individual lives to each other." His theory of ethics arises directly from his psychological theory of value. But here, too, the limitation of context harms the argument. You cannot discuss adequately questions of pattern in an indeterminate or shifting context not recognized as such. In his reaction against "abstract principles and general rules of conduct" Richards goes too far in the other direction.

But the great importance of Richards' chapter on art and morality lies in its pointing the way to a reunification of the two at a quite different level from that reached by the "classical" critics. He makes that unification himself through a reinterpretation of both art and morality in terms of his psychological theory of value. A moral man is the man whose coördination of activities is the widest and most comprehensive compatible with the minimum of conflict, starvation and restriction. The artist expresses and communicates such a state. This is all very useful, if inadequate, doctrine; obviously, we require a higher level for our synthesis than the simple psychological one. But even if Richards' formulation here is unsatisfactory, his view that a reinterpretation of the nature of ethics and of art is necessary, as a preliminary to their reunification, has proved very valuable for modern thought.

What, then, has the value of the "Principles" proved to be? It raised fundamental problems which have been setting writers to work ever since. Richards demonstrated once and for all the essential relation between literature and other forms of activity, and showed psychological knowledge to be a fundamental part of the critic's equipment. He went further, and regarded it as the only important part; but we may benefit from his discussion without accepting this extension of the argument. The points made by Richards and erected by him into a comprehensive theory of value have been separated out again by later critics, who believed Richards' system to be premature. Many valuable critical activities, such as the application of psychology to the discussion of literary form, derive from Richards' pioneer work. If the issues which Richards raised as aspects of a rather arbitrarily unified system have been split up and are being investigated one by one, as a preliminary to a more profound synthesis, that is all to the good. (p. 98)