than in making verses. An Author, whether good
or bad, or between both, is an Animal whom everybody is privileged to
attack; For though All are not able to write books, all conceive
themselves able to judge them. A bad composition carries with it its
own punishment, contempt and ridicule. A good one excites envy, and
entails upon its Author a thousand mortifications. He finds himself
assailed by partial and ill-humoured Criticism: One Man finds fault
with the plan, Another with the style, a Third with the precept, which
it strives to inculcate; and they who cannot succeed in finding fault
with the Book, employ themselves in stigmatizing its Author. They
maliciously rake out from obscurity every little circumstance which may
throw ridicule upon his private character or conduct, and aim at
wounding the Man, since They cannot hurt the Writer. In short, to
enter the lists of literature is wilfully to expose yourself to the
arrows of neglect, ridicule, envy, and disappointment. Whether you
write well or ill, be assured that you will not escape from blame;
Indeed this circumstance contains a young Author's chief consolation:
He remembers that Lope de Vega and Calderona had unjust and envious
Critics, and He modestly conceives himself to be exactly in their
predicament. But I am conscious that all these sage observations are
thrown away upon you. Authorship is a mania to conquer which no
reasons are sufficiently strong; and you might as easily persuade me
not to love, as I persuade you not to write. However, if you cannot
help being occasionally seized with a poetical paroxysm, take at least
the precaution of communicating your verses to none but those whose
partiality for you secures their approbation.'

'Then, my Lord, you do not think these lines tolerable?' said Theodore
with an humble and dejected air.

'You mistake my meaning. As I said before, they have pleased me much;
But my regard for you makes me partial, and Others might judge them
less favourably. I must still remark that even my prejudice in your
favour does not blind me so much as to prevent my observing several
faults. For instance, you make a terrible confusion of metaphors; You
are too apt to make the strength of your lines consist more in the
words than sense; Some of the verses only seem introduced in order to
rhyme with others; and most of the best ideas are borrowed from other
Poets, though possibly you are unconscious of the theft yourself