Jonathan Swift was many things, a great writer, a man of great satirical wit and a master of irony, but lest we forget he was also a critic.  His scathing denunciations of great writers such as Daniel Defoe and Eliza Haywood had sometimes profound effect on the careers of many of his peers.  Yet, the "Dean," as he was sometimes known, was not immune to the effects of criticism. Quite the contrary. Many of Swifts most well known works were, at the time of their publishing, basted with ample quantities of critical scorn.  Swift was certainly in good company however since writers have always been subject to the scornful slaughter of their critical peers as well as more recently professional critics.  In this sense, the critics play the role of the Fates of ancient Greek mythology.

Critics had (and often still have) the power of life and death over literary works.  Once the Critic-Fates passed their decree the Muse inspired author could only accept the inevitable and hope for an afterlife for his or her doomed literary work.  In many cases, the fate which the critics ordained passed an irrevocable death sentence on the the author's career, and though that author may continue to write, nothing they produce is likely to raise their reputation from the murky depths of Hades until years after they and (more significantly) the critics have truly gone to rest within the abode of the god of the underworld for eternity.  For unlike the Fates of Greek mythology, the judgments handed down by the Fates of Literature sometimes are rescinded by the next generation of critics.  So in this sense, the Literary Fates are more powerful than those three mythological goddesses of Greek legend.

Take for example Daniel Defoe, who during his life saw his legacy tarnished by the scathing criticism of the mighty Alexander Pope and the deity of divine satire, Swift.  With the passing of a few generations Defoe's fate was reversed, in a twist of irony which Swift would have envied,  he was elevated to the pantheon of immortals and became one of the gods of Literature along with those who had passed judgment upon him only 60 or 70 years earlier. Ah how fickle the divine literary of fates can be! To bring an end; the moral of this story is this simple--writers, write well, and don't fear the frightful pen of Literary Fates, the critics, who may damn you for a a year, a decade, or even a century, but if you write well, the Fates may one day come to exonerate you, nay perhaps even venerate you.