"I have not the slightest feeling of humility towards the public, or to anything in existence but the Eternal Being, the principle of Beauty, and the memory of great men.... A preface is written to the public--a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.... I would be subdued before my friends, and thank them for subduing me; but among multitudes of men I have no feel of stooping--I hate the idea of humility to them. I never wrote one single line of poetry with the least shadow of public thought.... I hate a mawkish popularity. I cannot be subdued before them. My glory would be to daunt and dazzle the thousand jabberers about pictures and books."
Keats, however, yielded to his censors, and wrote a rather shorter preface, by far a better one. It bears the date of April 10th, being the very next day after he had written to Reynolds in so unsubmissive a tone. This second preface says substantially much the same thing as the first, but without any aggressive or "devil-may-care" addenda. It is too important to be omitted here:--

"Knowing within myself the manner in which this poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public. What manner I mean will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt rather than a deed accomplished. The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible, are not of such completion as to warrant their passing the press; nor should they, if I thought a year's castigation would do them any good. It will not: the foundations are too sandy. It is just that this youngster should die away--a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that, while it is dwindling, I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to live.

"This may be speaking too presumptuously, and may deserve a punishment. But no feeling man will be forward to inflict it; he will leave me alone with the conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object. This is not written with the least atom of purpose to forestall criticisms of course, but from the desire I have to conciliate men who are competent to look, and who do look, with a zealous eye to the honour of English literature.






