"Perhaps you may think that these difficulties, due to mental
indisposition on the part of readers, are of rare occurrence. Consider,
then, how frequently a man, as he grows old, becomes incapable of
appreciating the charms of eloquence and poetry, no less than those
of the other imitative arts, and everything beautiful in the world.
This intellectual decay is a necessity of our nature. In the present
day it is so much greater than formerly, begins so much earlier, and
progresses so much more rapidly, especially in the studious, as our
experience is enlarged in more or less degree by the knowledge begotten
of the speculations of so many past centuries. For which reason, and
owing to the present condition of civilised life, the phantoms of
childhood soon vanish from the imagination of men; with them go the
hopes of the mind, and with the hopes most of the desires, passions,
and energy of life and its faculties. Whence I often wonder that men
of mature age, especially the learned and those inclined to meditate
about human affairs, should yet be subject to the influence of poetry
and eloquence, which are, however, unable to produce any real effect on
them.
"It may be regarded as a fact that, in order to be greatly moved by
imagination of the grand and beautiful, one must believe that there is
something really grand and beautiful in human life, and that poetry is
not mere fable. The young always believe such things, even when they
know their fallacy, until personal experience forces them to accept
the truth. But it is difficult to put faith in them after the sad
discipline of practical life; especially when experience is combined
with habits of study and speculation.
"From this it would seem that the young are generally better judges
of writings intended to arouse the affections and the imagination,
than men of mature and advanced age. But, on the other hand, the
young are novices in literature. They exact from books a superhuman,
boundless, and impossible pleasure, and where they fail to experience
this they despise the writer. Illiterate people have the same idea of
the functions of literature. And youths addicted to reading prefer,
both in their own writings and those of others, extravagance to
moderation, magnificence or attractiveness of style and ornamentation,
to the simple and natural, and sham beauties to real ones. This is
partly due to their limited experience, and partly to the impetuosity
of their time of life. Consequently, although the young are doubtless
more inclined than their elders to applaud what seems good to them,
since they are more truthful and candid, they are seldom capable of
appreciating the excellences of literary works. As we grow older,
the influence exercised over us by art increases, as that of nature
diminishes. Nevertheless both nature and art are necessary to produce
effect.
"Dwellers in large towns are compelled to sacrifice the beautiful
to the useful. Even though of warm and sensitive natures and lively
imagination, they cannot experience as an effect of the charms
either of nature or literature any tender or noble sentiment, any
sublime or delightful fancy; unless indeed, like you, they spend
most of their time in solitude. For few things are so opposed to
the state of mind necessary to appreciate such delights, as the
conversation of these men, the riot of these places, and the sight of
the tinselled splendour, the falseness, the miserable troubles, and
still more miserable idleness which abound there. I also think that
the _littÈrateurs_ of large towns are, as a rule, less qualified to
judge books than those of small towns; because, like everything else,
the literature of large towns is ordinarily false and pretentious, or
superficial.
"And whereas the ancients used to regard literature and the sciences
as a pleasing change from more serious business, in the present day
the majority of men who in large towns profess to be students regard
literature and writing as merely an agreeable variation of their other
amusements.
"I think that works of art, whether painting, sculpture, or
architecture, would be much more appreciated if they were disseminated
throughout a country in different-sized towns, instead of being, as
at present, accumulated in the chief cities. For in the latter places
men are so full of thoughts, so occupied with pleasurable pursuits and
vain and frivolous excitements, that they are very rarely capable of
the profound pleasures of the intellect. Besides, a multitude of fine
things gathered together have a distracting influence; the mind bestows
but little attention on individual things, and is sensible of no
especial gratification; or else it becomes satiated, and regards them
all as indifferently as though they were objects of the commonest kind.
"I say the same of music, which is nowhere so elaborate, or brought to
such perfection, as in large towns, where men have less appreciation
for the wonderful emotions of the art, and are indeed less musical than
elsewhere.
"Nevertheless, large towns are a useful home for the fostering and
perfecting of the arts; although their inhabitants are less under the
influence of their charms than the people of other places. It may be
said that artists, who work in solitude and silence, strive laboriously
and industriously to please men, who, because accustomed to the bustle
and noise of cities, are almost totally incapable of appreciating the
fruit of their exertions.
"The fate of writers may in a measure be compared to that of artists."