The Principles of Success in Literature

The Principles of Success in
Literature, by

George Henry Lewes
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Title: The Principles of Success in Literature
Author: George Henry Lewes
Release Date: December 9, 2003 [eBook #10420]
Language: English
Character set encoding: US-ASCII
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
PRINCIPLES OF SUCCESS IN LITERATURE***
THE PRINCIPLES OF SUCCESS IN LITERATURE
by
George Henry Lewes
This eBook was prepared by Roland Cheney.
In the development of the great series of animal organisms, the
Nervous System assumes more and more of an imperial character. The
rank held by any animal is determined by this character, and not at all
by its bulk, its strength, or even its utility. In like manner, in the
development of the social organism, as the life of nations becomes
more complex, Thought assumes a more imperial character; and
Literature, in its widest sense, becomes a delicate index of social
evolution. Barbarous societies show only the germs of literary life. But
advancing civilisation, bringing with it increased conquest over
material agencies, disengages the mind from the pressure of immediate
wants, and the loosened energy finds in leisure both the demand and

the means of a new activity: the demand, because long unoccupied
hours have to be rescued from the weariness of inaction; the means,
because this call upon the energies nourishes a greater ambition and
furnishes a wider arena.
Literature is at once the cause and the effect of social progress. It
deepens our natural sensibilities, and strengthens by exercise our
intellectual capacities. It stores up the accumulated experience of the
race, connecting Past and Present into a conscious unity; and with this
store it feeds successive generations, to be fed in turn by them. As its
importance emerges into more general recognition, it necessarily draws
after it a larger crowd of servitors, filling noble minds with a noble
ambition.
There is no need in our day to be dithyrambic on the glory of Literature.
Books have become our dearest companions, yielding exquisite
delights and inspiring lofty aims. They are our silent instructors, our
solace in sorrow, our relief in weariness. With what enjoyment we
linger over the pages of some well-loved author! With what gratitude
we regard every honest book! Friendships, prefound and generous, are
formed with men long dead, and with men whom we may never see.
The lives of these men have a quite personal interest for us. Their
homes become as consecrated shrines. Their little ways and familiar
phrases become endeared to us, like the little ways and phrases of our
wives and children.
It is natural that numbers who have once been thrilled with this delight
should in turn aspire to the privilege of exciting it. Success in Literature
has thus become not only the ambition of the highest minds, it has also
become the ambition of minds intensely occupied with other means of
influencing their fellow--with statesmen, warriors, and rulers. Prime
ministers and emperors have striven for distinction as poets, scholars,
critics, and historians. Unsatisfied with the powers and privileges of
rank, wealth, and their conspicuous position in the eyes of men, they
have longed also for the nobler privilege of exercising a generous sway
over the minds and hearts of readers. To gain this they have stolen
hours from the pressure of affairs, and disregarded the allurements of
luxurious ease, labouring steadfastly, hoping eagerly. Nor have they
mistaken the value of the reward. Success in Literature is, in truth, the
blue ribbon of nobility.

There is another aspect presented by Literature. It has become a
profession; to many a serious and elevating profession; to many more a
mere trade, having miserable trade-aims and trade-tricks. As in every
other profession, the ranks are thronged with incompetent aspirants,
without seriousness of aim, without the faculties demanded by their
work. They are led to waste powers which in other directions might
have done honest service, because they have failed to discriminate
between aspiration and inspiration, between the desire for greatness and
the consciousness of power. Still lower in the ranks are those who
follow Literature simply because they see no other opening for their
incompetence; just as forlorn widows and ignorant old maids thrown
suddenly on their own resources open a school--no other means of
livelihood seeming to be within their reach. Lowest of all are those
whose esurient vanity, acting on a frivolous levity of mind, urges them
to make Literature a plaything for display. To write for a livelihood,
even on a complete misapprehension of our powers, is at least a
respectable impulse. To play at