They who are in the habit of passing sentence upon books,--and what
ignoramus in our days does not deem himself fully qualified for sitting
in the seat of the scorner?--are apt to think that they have condemned a
work irretrievably, when they have pronounced it to be unintelligible.
Unintelligible to whom? To themselves, the self-constituted judges. So
that their sentence presumes their competency to pronounce it: and this,
to every one save themselves, may be exceedingly questionable.
It is true, the very purpose for which a writer publishes his thoughts,
is, that his readers should share them with him. Hence the primary
requisite of a style is its intelligibleness: that is to say, it must
be capable of being understood. But intelligibleness is a relative
quality, varying with the capacity of the reader. The easiest book in a
language is inaccessible to those who have never set foot within the
pale of that language. The simplest elementary treatise in any science
is obscure and perplexing, until we become familiar with the terminology
of that science. Thus every writer is entitled to demand a certain
amount of knowledge in those for whom he writes, and a certain degree of
dexterity in using the implements of thought....
When a man says he sees nothing in a book, he very often means that he
does not see himself in it: which, if it is not a comedy or a satire, is
likely enough.--A. W. and J. C. HARE. _Guesses at Truth._