There is a certain race of men, that either imagine it their duty, or
make it their amusement, to hinder the reception of every work of
learning or genius, who stand as sentinels in the avenues of fame, and
value themselves upon giving ignorance and envy the first notice of a
prey.
To these men, who distinguish themselves by the appellation of Critics,
it is necessary for a new author to find some means of recommendation.
It is probable, that the most malignant of these persecutors might be
somewhat softened, and prevailed on, for a short time, to remit their
fury. Having for this purpose considered many expedients, I find in the
records of ancient times, that Argus was lulled by music, and Cerberus
quieted with a sop; and am, therefore, inclined to believe that modern
critics, who, if they have not the eyes, have the watchfulness of Argus,
and can bark as loud as Cerberus, though, perhaps, they cannot bite with
equal force, might be subdued by methods of the same kind. I have heard
that some have been pacified with claret and a supper, and others laid
asleep with the soft notes of flattery.--_The Rambler_.