Poetry can be criticized only through poetry. A judgement on a work of art, if it is not itself a work of art . . . has no civil rights in the realm of art.-Friedrich Schlegel, Critical Fragment 117T he central current of Western verbal aesthetics has always valued eloquence-the capacity to communicate ideas clearly, vividly, persuasively, and often ornately. In the classical picture, eloquence is a necessary companion of knowledge, especially self-knowledge, if the latter is not to be privately husbanded but put to public political and forensic ends. But a recurrent alternative, one with a frequent emphasis on private over public experience, has found aesthetic value in qualities apparently antithetical to eloquence: silence, bareness, inarticulacy, obscurity, incoherence, nonsense. This strain came to the fore in modernist literature-Prufrock's inability to express himself, say, or the formidable night thoughts of Finnegans Wake-heralded by Hugo von Hofmannsthal's "Lord Chandos Letter" of 1902, and given philosophical respectability by the final sentence of Wittgenstein's Tractatus. But that value is heard already in the fragmentation and obscurancy of German romantic criticism, in the intense diffidence of apophatic theology, and in the many vital traditions of nonsense verse from late medieval Europe. Scholars of early modern literature will have no trouble thinking of parallels. Carla Mazzio, for one, has recently made a strong case for the aesthetics of inarticulate utterance on the Renaissance stage, as mumbling, polyglotism, and other types of ineloquence seemed to offer a means to communicate alternative For their comments on earlier drafts of this essay, I would like to thank David Colclough and Elizabeth Swann. My thanks also to Dilwyn Knox for advice on Plotinus.