The Principles of Success in Literature | Page 2

Literature is altogether inexcusable: the
motive is vanity, the object notoriety, the end contempt.
I propose to treat of the Principles of Success in Literature, in the belief
that if a clear recognition of the principles which underlie all successful
writing could once be gained, it would be no inconsiderable help to
many a young and thoughtful mind. Is it necessary to guard against a
misconception of my object, and to explain that I hope to furnish
nothing more than help and encouragement? There is help to be gained
from a clear understanding of the conditions of success; and
encouragement to be gained from a reliance on the ultimate victory of
true principles. More than this can hardly be expected from me, even
on the supposition that I have ascertained the real conditions. No one, it
is to be presumed, will imagine that I can have any pretension of giving
recipes for Literature, or of furnishing power and talent where nature
has withheld them. I must assume the presence of the talent, and then
assign the conditions under which that talent can alone achieve real
success, no man is made a discoverer by learning the principles of
scientific Method; but only by those principles can discoveries be made;
and if he has consciously mastered them, he will find them directing his
researches and saving him from an immensity of fruitless labour. It is
something in the nature of the Method of Literature that I propose to

expound. Success is not an accident. All Literature is founded upon
psychological laws, and involves principles which are true for all
peoples and for all times. These principles we are to consider here.
II.
The rarity of good books in every department, and the enormous
quantity of imperfect, insincere books, has been the lament of all times.
The complaint being as old as Literature itself, we may dismiss without
notice all the accusations which throw the burden on systems of
education, conditions of society, cheap books, levity and superficialty
of readers, and analogous causes. None of these can be a VERA
CAUSA; though each may have had its special influence in
determining the production of some imperfect works. The main cause I
take to be that indicated in Goethe's aphorism: "In this world there are
so few voices and so many echoes." Books are generally more deficient
in sincerity than in cleverness. Talent, as will become apparent in the
course of our inquiry, holds a very subordinate position in Literature to
that usually assigned to it. Indeed, a cursory inspection of the Literature
of our day will detect an abundance of remarkable talent---that is, of
intellectual agility, apprehensiveness, wit, fancy, and power of
expression which is nevertheless impotent to rescue "clever writing"
from neglect or contempt. It is unreal splendour; for the most part mere
intellectual fireworks. In Life, as in Literature, our admiration for mere
cleverness has a touch of contempt in it, and is very unlike the respect
paid to character. And justly so. No talent can be supremely effective
unless it act in close alliance with certain moral qualities. (What these
qualities are will be specified hereafter.)
Another cause, intimately allied with the absence of moral guidance
just alluded to, is MISDIRECTION of talent. Valuable energy is
wasted by being misdirected. Men are constantly attempting, without
special aptitude, work for which special aptitude is indispensable.
"On peut etre honnete hornme et faire mal des vers."
A man may be variously accomplished, and yet be a feeble poet. He
may be a real poet, yet a feeble dramatist, he may have dramatic faculty,
yet be a feeble novelist. He may be a good story-teller, yet a shallow
thinker and a slip-shod writer. For success in any special kind of work
it is obvious that a special talent is requisite; but obvious as this seems,
when stated as a general proposition, it rarely serves to check a

mistaken presumption. There are many writers endowed with a certain
susceptibility to the graces and refinements of Literature which has
been fostered by culture till they have mistaken it for native power; and
these men, being really destitute of native power, are forced to imitate
what others have created. They can understand how a man may have
musical sensibility and yet not be a good singer; but they fail to
understand, at least in their own case, how a man may have literary
sensibility, yet not be a good story-teller or an effective dramatist. They
imagine that if they are cultivated and clever, can write what is
delusively called a "brilliant style," and are familiar with the
masterpieces of Literature, they must be more competent to succeed in
fiction or the drama than a duller man, with a plainer style and
slenderer acquaintance with the "best models." Had