whose knowledge of what he prints is even less than that of the writer as to what he writes, and whose only desire is to exchange his own printed paper for that of others.
In this way the Republic of Letters is brought together. By means of the printing press it is separated from the masses who do not print anything, and whose position in the camp of Formal Knowledge is that of Readers only. Hence arise new relations and connexions between these two principal sections of the camp of Formal Knowledge.
The first purpose of printing is obviously to announce publicly to all the world the independence of mind possessed by the Author;—from this arises, in Science, a straining after new or seemingly new opinions; and in Literature, a struggling after new forms. He who has attained this end, gains the favour of his Reader, whether or not, in the one case, his opinion be true; or, in the other, his form be beautiful. But when the printing press has thoroughly come into play even this novelty is laid aside, and mere printing, for its own sake alone, becomes a merit;—and then arises, in Science, the tribe of compilers, who give to the world what has been given to it a hundred times before, only with some slight transposition of its parts; and in Literature, the fashionable author, who continues to repeat a form which has already been so long employed by others or by himself, that at last no man can discover anything good in it.
This stream of Literature now flows forth, constantly renewing itself; each new tide displacing its forerunner; so that the purpose originally contemplated in printing is frustrated, and the hope of immortality by means of the press destroyed. It matters not to have brought forth one’s opinion in open print, unless one also possess the art to continue so to do unceasingly:—for all that is Past is soon forgotten. Who is there that shall bear it in memory? Not the Author as such: for since each strives after
