"We will now return to the consideration of authors.
"It is a characteristic of writings approaching perfection that they
usually please more when read a second time, than they pleased at
first. The contrary effect is produced by many books written carefully
and skilfully, but which really possess few merits. These when read a
second time are less esteemed than at first. But both kinds of books,
when read only once, often deceive even the learned and experienced, so
that indifferent books are preferred to excellent ones. In the present
day, however, even students by profession can rarely be induced to read
new books a second time, especially such as come under the heading of
light literature. This was not so in olden times, because then but few
books were in existence. Now, it is very different. We possess the
literary bequests of all past times. Every nation has its literature,
and produces its host of books daily. There are writings in all
languages, ancient and modern, relating to every branch of science and
learning, and so closely connected and allied that the student must
study them all as far as possible. You may therefore easily imagine
that a book does not obtain full consideration on a first reading, and
that a second reading is out of the question. Yet the first opinion
that we form of a new book is seldom changed.
"For the same reasons, even in the first reading of books, especially
those of light literature, very rarely sufficient attention and study
is given to discover the laborious perfection, the subtle art, and
the hidden and unpretentious virtues of the writings. Thus, in the
present day the condition of excellent books is really worse than that
of indifferent ones. For the charms and qualifications of most of the
latter, whether true or false, are so exposed to the eye, that, however
trivial they may be, they are easily discernible at first sight. We
may therefore say with truth, that the exertion necessary to produce
perfect writing is almost useless for fame. But, on the other hand,
books composed, like most modern ones, rapidly and without any great
degree of excellence, though perhaps celebrated for a time, cannot fail
to be soon forgotten. And many works of recognised value are also lost
in the immense stream of new books which pours forth daily, before
they have had time to establish their celebrity. They perish for no
intrinsic fault of their own, and give place to other books, good and
bad, which each in turn live their short spell of life. So that whereas
the ancients could acquire glory in a thousand ways, we can only attain
it by one single avenue, after much more exertion than formerly.
"The books of the ancients alone survive this universal shipwreck of
all later writings. Their fame is established and confirmed; they are
diligently and repeatedly read, and are made the subject of careful
study. And it is noteworthy that a modern book, if intrinsically equal
to any of the ancient writings, would rarely, if ever, give its readers
as much pleasure as the ancient work. This for two reasons. In the
first place, it would not be read with the care and attention that we
bestow on celebrated writings; very few people would read it twice;
and no one would study it (for none but scientific books are studied
until made venerable by age). In the second place, the world-wide and
permanent reputation of writings, whether or not due to their internal
excellence, adds to their value, and proportionately increases the
pleasure they give; often, indeed, most of the charm of such literature
is simply due to its celebrity.
"This reminds me of some remarkable words of Montesquieu about the
origin of human pleasures. He says: 'The mind often creates within
itself many sources of pleasure, which are intimately dependent on each
other. Thus, a thing that has once pleased us, pleases us again simply
because it did so before; we couple together imagination of the present
and remembrance of the past. For example, an actress who pleased us
on the stage, will probably please us in private life: her voice; her
manner; the recollection of the applause she excited; perhaps, too,
her _rÙle_ of princess joined to her real character,--all combine and
form a mixture of influences producing a general feeling of pleasure.
Our minds are always full of ideas subordinate to one or more primary
ideas. A woman famous for one cause or another, and possessed of some
slight inherent defect, is often able to attract by means of this
very defect. And women are ordinarily loved less because they inspire
affection than because they are well born, rich, or highly esteemed by
others.'[1]....
"Often indeed a woman's reputation for beauty and grace, whether well
or ill founded, or even the mere fact that others have been under the
influence of her charms, suffices to inspire a man with affection
for her. And who does not know that most pleasures are due to the
imagination rather than to the inherent qualities of the things that
please us?
"These remarks refer to writings no less than to all other things.
Indeed I will venture to say that were a poem to be published equal
or superior to the Iliad, and carefully read by an excellent judge of
poetry, it would give less satisfaction and appear less charming than
the Greek masterpiece, much less would its fame be comparable with that
of the Iliad; for its real merits would not be aided by twenty-seven
centuries of admiration, nor the thousand reminiscences and other
associations that connect themselves with Homer's poem. Similarly I
affirm that if any one were to read carefully either the 'Jerusalem' or
the 'Furioso,' without knowing anything of their celebrity, he would be
much less pleased than others who were aware of their fame.
"In short, it may be accepted as a general rule that the first readers
of every remarkable work which in after ages becomes famous, and the
contemporaries of the writer, derive less enjoyment from such reading
than all other people.
"This fact cannot but be very disadvantageous to the interest of
writers."
[Footnote 1: Ex: Fragment _Sur le go˚t_, &c.]