My dear Heraud, – Your ‘Nero’

was a long while before it reached me. I have now perused it, and find – what I expected – an exuberance of power which you do not know how to direct. Writers who have the mere talent of imitation (which is all that ninety-nine out of the hundred possess) soon attain to all the perfection of which they are capable, and write as well at sixteen as they would do at threescore. Like ginger-beer, they are soon ripe; but where the liquor is generous, it must have time for ripening.

I advise you not to publish ‘Nero,’ because there is little likelihood that it would pay the expense of publication, and because all it could do for you would be no more than what your ‘Legend’

has done; that is, it would convey sure evidence of genius to those persons who are capable of discovering it – a much smaller number than is generally supposed.

You had better let the subject of the Deluge

ripen in your mind than begin upon it, till you are better able to construct the plan of a poem. Your easiest way to distinguish yourself is by the drama, and not by aiming at its highest branches at first. Choose some graceful subject with a romantic interest, one which requires more poetry than passion; form your plan first, and if you construct that well, there will be no fear of your failing in the execution.

Shall I keep your manuscript till I have an opportunity of returning it by a private hand, which will surely occur in the course of the summer? You have given a wrong pronunciation to two of the names: the accent in Natalis should be on the middle syllable; in Tigellinus on the last but one.

Farewell, and believe me, yours very truly,