Of Fleeting Impressions, or an author's frailty

The Circumstance which gives Authors an Advantage above all these great Masters, is this, that they can multiply their Originals; or rather can make Copies of their Works, to what Number they please, which shall be as valuable as the Originals themselves. This gives a great Author something like a Prospect of Eternity, but at the same time deprives him of those other Advantages which Artists meet with. The Artist finds greater Returns in Profit, as the Author in Fame. What an Inestimable Price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or an Aristotle bear, were their Works like a Statue, a Building, or a Picture, to be confined only in one Place and made the Property of a single Person?--The Spectator, No. 166. Monday, September 10, 1711. Addison.

At a conference, I recently caught Menachem Fisch engrossed in Dror Wahrman's fascinating Mr. Collier's Letter Racks, which Menachem warmly recommended. The passage from Addison is partially quoted on p. 51; Wahrman cuts it off at "Eternity." In context, Wahrman is not interested in the trade-off between profit for unique works and enduring fame that Addison posits (although fleetingness of life, of print, of identity (etc.) is a major theme of the book). Because duplication undermines scarcity -- it even risks effacing property --, it generates too much supply, and lowers what one might call "exchange value." (As Addison recognizes, the intrinsic or use value remains, and may, in fact, be increased because more folk can enjoy the fruits of one's labor.)* Addison imagines counterfactually, "What an Inestimable Price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or an Aristotle bear, were their Works like a Statue, a Building, or a Picture, to be confined only in one Place and made the Property of a single Person?" Yet, unique properties, which have a huge upside in exchange value, are vulnerable to the destruction wrought by time: statue, buildings, even pictures are fragile--and  even when they survive they may -- despite the necessity of the logicians -- be disassociated from the name that ought to be associated with it.

That is to say, one can be rewarded in money and approbation. If one scribbles in the right sort of medium, one can even hope to rewarded with posthumous applause. Addison's little counterfactual implies, in fact, that the truly talented (Virgil, Homer, Cicero, Aristotle) correctly favor the possibility of extraordinary posthumous fame over extraordinary riches in one's life. As Hume insisted, while subtly correcting Addison's implicit axiology, that there was such a thing as a "most durable, as well as justest fame," and offered as examples:

The fame of Cicero flourishes at present; but that of Aristotle is utterly decayed. La Bruyere passes the seas, and still maintains his reputation: But the glory of Malebranche is confined to his own nation, and to his own age. And Addison, perhaps, will be read with pleasure, when Locke shall be entirely forgotten.--First Enquiry. (Recall this post.)

According to Addison, posthumous fame turns out to be a finite currency. For, Addison's treatment is framed, not surprisingly, by Cowley's "Poem on the Resurrection, mentioning the Destruction of the Universe;" the thought being that worthy ideas should "last as long as the Sun and Moon." (In the eighteenth century it was an open question -- which eluded Newton's best efforts -- how long this might be!) Of course, along the way, some folk need to preserve or duplicate further the worthy books (each individual copy can be destroyed, after all). It would be silly to claim that Addison foresaw the rise of books.google or project gutenberg, but it is notable that our digital age is better at keeping books available than preventing, say, global warming. It is one of history's great ironies that just as religious belief in religious Apocalypse waned (among those that occupy the research frontier), science informs us not only that the Sun and Moon will not last, but also that  it has become extremely likely that humans will hasten their own demise, in large part due to our technological mastery. Spinoza's idea of conditioned existence on to infinity was too optimistic. In fact, Addison ascribed to "Aristotle," the Spinozistic idea that "that the World is a Copy or Transcript of those Ideas which are in the Mind of the first Being;" if this is right, our books may be 'read' through eternity by the unmoved mover long after we're destroyed. 

Addison imagines books as the "presents to the Posterity of those who are yet unborn." Such opportunity also imposes an obligation to commit nothing "to Print that may corrupt Posterity, and poison the Minds of Men with Vice and Error." Addison notes with approval a Catholic superstition that one remains in purgatory as long as one's bad influence last. (To paraphrase Spinoza, if one exists as long as one causes effects, one can, thus, be held accountable for as long as these exists.) Oddly, Addison contrasts such harmful consequences not with moral writings, but with the contributions of "Confucius or a Socrates," neither of which left books at all, but had literary students attempt to fix the memory not just of their good ideas, but also their deeds. Given that Confucius and Socrates lived before the age of print, it's not quite right to think of the books about them as multiplying their originals. For, Wahrman treats us to the Trompe-l'œil paintings of Evert Collier,** which teach us that print gives us the impression of stable duplication, but that, in fact, this is an illusion. (Below one of his letter racks; I had hoped to post a copy of a Collier Vanitas with a Dutch Montaigne, but could not find one online.)

I may have given the impression that Addison, one of the greatest proto-bloggers of all time, is so moralistic that he would encourage us to forsake present readers for future benificial effects altogether. He understands the frailty of authors (including himself):

a Story of an Atheistical Author, who at a time when he lay dangerously sick, and desired the Assistance of a neighbouring Curate, confessed to him with great Contrition, that nothing sat more heavy at his Heart than the Sense of his having seduced the Age by his Writings, and that their evil Influence was likely to continue even after his Death. The Curate upon further Examination finding the Penitent in the utmost Agonies of Despair, and being himself a Man of Learning, told him, that he hoped his Case was not so desperate as he apprehended, since he found that he was so very sensible of his Fault, and so sincerely repented of it. The Penitent still urged the evil Tendency of his Book to subvert all Religion, and the little Ground of Hope there could be for one whose Writings would continue to do Mischief when his Body was laid in Ashes. The Curate, finding no other Way to comfort him, told him, that he did well in being afflicted for the evil Design with which he published his Book; but that he ought to be very thankful that there was no danger of its doing any Hurt: That his Cause was so very bad, and his Arguments so weak, that he did not apprehend any ill Effects of it: In short, that he might rest satisfied his Book could do no more Mischief after his Death, than it had done whilst he was living. To which he added, for his farther Satisfaction, that he did not believe any besides his particular Friends and Acquaintance had ever been at the pains of reading it, or that any Body after his Death would ever enquire after it. The dying Man had still so much the Frailty of an Author in him, as to be cut to the Heart with these Consolations; and without answering the good Man, asked his Friends about him (with a Peevishness that is natural to a sick Person) where they had picked up such a Blockhead?

 

*I am supplying Addison with an exchange/use value distinction; on Addison as a political economist, recall this post.

**Unusually, Wikipedia is slow to include the wealth of information collected in Wahrman's book. (I have to admit that at first I thought Wahrman's book was a giant hoax because 'Wahrman' translates 'true man' and I had never heard of Collier before.)

Comments

[Michael Kremer]

Nice post. Thanks!