"We have seen how very few people will be able to appreciate you when
you succeed in becoming a perfect writer. Now, I wish to indicate
some of the hindrances that will prevent even these few from rightly
estimating your worth, although they see the signs of it.
"In the first place, there can be no doubt that all writings of
eloquence or poetry are judged, not so much on their merits, as by
the effect they produce in the mind of the reader. So that the reader
may be said to consider them rather in himself than in themselves.
Consequently men who are naturally devoid of imagination and
enthusiasm, though gifted with much intelligence, discernment, and
no little learning, are almost quite incapable of forming a correct
judgment of fanciful writings. They cannot in the least immerse their
minds in the mind of the writer, and usually have within themselves a
feeling of contempt for his compositions, because unable to discover
in what their so great fame consists. Such reading awakens no emotion
within them, nor does it arouse their imagination, or create in them
any especial sensation of pleasure. And even people who are naturally
disposed and inclined to receive the impression of whatever image or
fancy a writer has properly signified, very often experience a feeling
of coldness, indifference, languor, or dulness; so that for the time
they resemble the persons just mentioned. This change is due to divers
causes, internal and external, physical and mental, and is either
temporary or lasting. At such times no one, even though himself an
excellent writer, is a good judge of writings intended to excite the
affections or the imagination. Again, there is the danger of satiety
due to previous reading of similar writings. Certain passions too, of
more or less strength, from time to time invest the mind, leaving no
room for the emotions which ought to be excited by the reading. And it
often happens that places; spectacles, natural or artificial, music;
and a hundred such things, which would ordinarily excite us, are now
incapable of arousing or delighting us in the least, although no less
attractive than formerly.
"But, though a man, for one or other of these reasons, may be ill
disposed to appreciate the effects of eloquence or poetry, he does
not for that reason defer judgment of books on both these subjects
which he then happens to read for the first time. I myself sometimes
take up Homer, Cicero, or Petrarch, and read without feeling the least
emotion. Yet, as I am quite aware of the merits of these writers,
both because of their reputation, and my own frequent appreciation of
their charms, I do not for a moment think them undeservedly praised
simply because I am at present too dull to do them justice. But it is
different with books read for the first time, which are too new to have
acquired a reputation. There is nothing in such cases to prevent the
reader forming a low opinion of the author and the merits of his book,
if his mind be indisposed to do justice to the sentiments and imagery
contained in the work. Nor would it be easy to induce him to alter his
judgment by subsequent study of the same book under better auspices;
for probably the disgust inspired by his first reading will deter him
from a second; and in any case the strength of first impressions will
be almost invincible.
"On the other hand, the mind is sometimes, for one reason or another,
in such a state of sensibility, vivacity, vigour, and fervour, that
it follows even the least suggestion of the reading; it feels keenly
the slightest touch, and as it reads is able to create within itself
a thousand emotions and fancies, sometimes losing itself in a sort
of sweet delirium, when it is almost transported out of itself. As a
natural result of this, the mind, reviewing the pleasures enjoyed in
the reading, and not distinguishing between its own predisposition
and the actual merits of the book, experiences a feeling of so great
admiration, and forms so high a conception of it, as even to rank the
book above others of much greater merit, read under less felicitous
circumstances. See therefore to what uncertainty is subject even the
truth and justice of opinions from the same persons, as to the writings
and genius of others, quite apart from any sentiment of malice or
favour. So great is this uncertainty that a man varies considerably
in his estimation of works of equal value, and even the same work, at
different times of life, under different circumstances, and even at
different hours of the day."