impression, even before the contents of the work are known. This is of
the last importance to the bookseller, who is at once, to use a
technical phrase, "brought home," all his outlay being repaid. But it
is a different case with the author, since it cannot be denied that we
are apt to feel least satisfied with the works of which we have been
induced, by titles and laudatory advertisements, to entertain
exaggerated expectations. The intention of the work has been
anticipated, and misconceived or misrepresented, and although the
difficulty of executing the work again reminds us of Hotspur's task of
"o'er-walking a current roaring loud," yet the adventurer must look
for more ridicule if he fails, than applause if he executes, his
undertaking.

Notwithstanding a risk, which should make authors pause ere they adopt
a theme which, exciting general interest and curiosity, is often the
preparative for disappointment, yet it would be an injudicious
regulation which should deter the poet or painter from attempting to
introduce historical portraits, merely from the difficulty of
executing the task in a satisfactory manner. Something must be trusted
to the generous impulse, which often thrusts an artist upon feats of
which he knows the difficulty, while he trusts courage and exertion
may afford the means of surmounting it.

It is especially when he is sensible of losing ground with the public,
that an author may be justified in using with address, such selection
of subject or title as is most likely to procure a rehearing. It was
with these feelings of hope and apprehension, that I venture to
awaken, in a work of fiction, the memory of Queen Mary, so interesting
by her wit, her beauty, her misfortunes, and the mystery which still
does, and probably always will, overhang her history. In doing so, I