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of protesting （as a friend would do） that no apology is
necessary； or put； perchance； into their heads the doubt of one's
discretion？ So much as to the care due to those friends whom a
word here； a line there； a fortunate page of just feeling in the
right place； some happy simplicity； or even some lucky subtlety；
has drawn from the great multitude of fellow…beings even as a
fish is drawn from the depths of the sea。 Fishing is notoriously
（I am talking now of the deep sea） a matter of luck。 As to one's
enemies； those will take care of themselves。
There is a gentleman； for instance； who； metaphorically speaking；
jumps upon me with both feet。 This image has no grace； but it is
exceedingly apt to the occasionto the several occasions。 I
don't know precisely how long he had been indulging in that
intermittent exercise； whose seasons are ruled by the custom of
the publishing trade。 Somebody pointed him out （in printed
shape； of course） to my attention some time ago； and straightway
I experienced a sort of reluctant affection for that robust man。
He leaves not a shred of my substance untrodden： for the
writer's substance is his writing； the rest of him is but a vain
shadow； cherished or hated on uncritical grounds。 Not a shred！
Yet the sentiment owned to is not a freak of affectation or
perversity。 It has a deeper； and； I venture to think； a more
estimable origin than the caprice of emotional lawlessness。 It
is； indeed； lawful； in so much that it is given （reluctantly） for
a consideration； for several considerations。 There is that
robustness； for instance； so often the sign of good moral
balance。 That's a consideration。 It is not； indeed； pleasant to
be stamped upon； but the very thoroughness of the operation；
implying not only a careful reading； but some real insight into
work whose qualities and defects； whatever they may be； are not
so much on the surface； is something to be thankful for in view
of the fact that it may happen to one's work to be condemned
without being read at all。 This is the most fatuous adventure
that can well happen to a writer venturing his soul amongst
criticisms。 It can do one no harm； of course； but it is
disagreeable。 It is disagreeable in the same way as discovering
a three…card…trick man amongst a decent lot of folk in a third…
class compartment。 The open impudence of the whole transaction；
appealing insidiously to the folly and credulity of mankind； the
brazen； shameless patter； proclaiming the fraud openly while
insisting on the fairness of the game； give one a feeling of
sickening disgust。 The honest violence of a plain man playing a
fair game fairlyeven if he means to knock you overmay appear
shocking； but it remains within the pale of decency。 Damaging as
it may be； it is in no sense offensive。 One may well feel some
regard for honesty； even if practised upon one's own vile body。
But it is very obvious that an enemy of that sort will not be
stayed by explanations or placated by apologies。 Were I to
advance the plea of youth in excuse of the naiveness to be found
in these pages； he would be likely to say 〃Bosh！〃 in a column and
a half of fierce print。 Yet a writer is no older than his first
published book； and； notwithstanding the vain appearances of
decay which attend us in this transitory life； I stand here with
the wreath of only fifteen short summers on my brow。
With the remark； then； that at such tender age some naiveness of
feeling and expression is excusable； I proceed to admit that；
upon the whole； my previous state of existence was not a good
equipment for a literary life。 Perhaps I should not have used the
word literary。 That word presupposes an intimacy of acquaintance
with letters； a turn of mind and a manner of feeling to which I
dare lay no claim。 I only love letters； but the love of letters
does not make a literary man； any more than the love of the sea
makes a seaman。 And it is very possible； too； that I love the
letters in the same way a literary man may love the sea he looks
at from the shorea scene of great endeavour and of great
achievements changing the face of the world； the great open way
to all sorts of undiscovered countries。 No； perhaps I had better
say that the life at seaand I don't mean a mere taste of it；
but a good broad span of years； something that really counts as
real serviceis not； upon the whole； a good equipment for a
writing life。 God forbid； though； that I should be thought of as
denying my masters of the quarter…deck。 I am not capable of that
sort of apostasy。 I have confessed my attitude of piety towards
their shades in three or four tales； and if any man on earth more
than another needs to be true to himself as he hopes to be saved；
it is certainly the writer of fiction。
What I meant to say； simply； is that the quarter…deck training
does not prepare one sufficiently for the reception of literary
criticism。 Only that； and no more。 But this defect is not
without gravity。 If it be permissible to twist； invert； adapt
（and spoil） M。 Anatole France's definition of a good critic； then
let us say that the good author is he who contemplates without
marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures of his soul amongst
criticisms。 Far be from me the intention to mislead an attentive
public into the belief that there is no criticism at sea。 That
would be dishonest； and even impolite。 Everything can be found
at sea； according to the spirit of your queststrife； peace；
romance； naturalism of the most pronounced kind； ideals； boredom；
disgust； inspirationand every conceivable opportunity；
including the opportunity to make a fool of yourselfexactly as
in the pursuit of literature。 But the quarter…deck criticism is
somewhat different from literary criticism。 This much they have
in common； that before the one and the other the answering back；
as a general rule； does not pay。
Yes； you find criticism at sea； and even appreciationI tell you
everything is to be found on salt watercriticism generally
impromptu； and always viva voce； which is the outward； obvious
difference from the literary operation of that kind； with
consequent freshness and vigour which may be lacking in the
printed word。 With appreciation； which comes at the end； when
the critic and the criticised are about to part； it is otherwise。
The sea appreciation of one's humble talents has the permanency
of the written word； seldom the charm of variety； is formal in
its phrasing。 There the literary master has the superiority；
though he； t