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Southey and Coleridge； and if he had thus found himself released
from an engagement which had become irksome to him； or possibly from
the threat of an action for breach of promise； then there is not a
syllable in the poem with which he crowns his crime that is not
alive with meaning。 On any other supposition to the general reader
it is unintelligible。
We cannot be too guarded in the interpretations we put upon the
words of great poets。 Take the young lady who never loved the dear
gazelleand I don't believe she did； we are apt to think that Moore
intended us to see in this creation of his fancy a sweet； amiable；
but most unfortunate young woman； whereas all he has told us about
her points to an exactly opposite conclusion。 In reality； he wished
us to see a young lady who had been an habitual complainer from her
earliest childhood； whose plants had always died as soon as she
bought them； while those belonging to her neighbours had flourished。
The inference is obvious； nor can we reasonably doubt that Moore
intended us to draw it； if her plants were the very first to fade
away； she was evidently the very first to neglect or otherwise
maltreat them。 She did not give them enough water； or left the door
of her fern…ease open when she was cooking her dinner at the gas
stove； or kept them too near the paraffin oil； or other like folly；
and as for her temper； see what the gazelles did； as long as they
did not know her 〃well；〃 they could just manage to exist； but when
they got to understand her real character； one after another felt
that death was the only course open to it； and accordingly died
rather than live with such a mistress。 True； the young lady herself
said the gazelles loved her； but disagreeable people are apt to
think themselves amiable； and in view of the course invariably taken
by the gazelles themselves any one accustomed to weigh evidence will
hold that she was probably mistaken。
I must； however； return to Frost's 〃Lives of Eminent Christians。〃 I
will leave none of the ambiguity about my words in which Moore and
Wordsworth seem to have delighted。 I am very sorry the book is
gone； and know not where to turn for its successor。 Till I have
found a substitute I can write no more； and I do not know how to
find even a tolerable one。 I should try a volume of Migne's
〃Complete Course of Patrology；〃 but I do not like books in more than
one volume； for the volumes vary in thickness； and one never can
remember which one took； the four volumes； however； of Bede in
Giles's 〃Anglican Fathers〃 are not open to this objection； and I
have reserved them for favourable consideration。 Mather's
〃Magnalia〃 might do； but the binding does not please me； Cureton's
〃Corpus Ignatianum〃 might also do if it were not too thin。 I do not
like taking Norton's 〃Genuineness of the Gospels；〃 as it is just
possible some one may be wanting to know whether the Gospels are
genuine or not； and be unable to find out because I have got Mr。
Norton's book。 Baxter's 〃Church History of England；〃 Lingard's
〃Anglo…Saxon Church；〃 and Cardwell's 〃Documentary Annals；〃 though
none of them as good as Frost； are works of considerable merit； but
on the whole I think Arvine's 〃Cyclopedia of Moral and Religious
Anecdote〃 is perhaps the one book in the room which comes within
measurable distance of Frost。 I should probably try this book
first； but it has a fatal objection in its too seductive title。 〃I
am not curious；〃 as Miss Lottie Venne says in one of her parts； 〃but
I like to know；〃 and I might be tempted to pervert the book from its
natural uses and open it； so as to find out what kind of a thing a
moral and religious anecdote is。 I know； of course； that there are
a great many anecdotes in the Bible； but no one thinks of calling
them either moral or religious； though some of them certainly seem
as if they might fairly find a place in Mr。 Arvine's work。 There
are some things； however； which it is better not to know； and take
it all round I do not think I should be wise in putting myself in
the way of temptation； and adopting Arvine as the successor to my
beloved and lamented Frost。
Some successor I must find； or I must give up writing altogether；
and this I should be sorry to do。 I have only as yet written about
a third； or from thatcounting works written but not publishedto
a half； of the books which I have set myself to write。 It would not
so much matter if old age was not staring me in the face。 Dr。 Parr
said it was 〃a beastly shame for an old man not to have laid down a
good cellar of port in his youth〃； I； like the greater number； I
suppose； of those who write books at all； write in order that I may
have something to read in my old age when I can write no longer。 I
know what I shall like better than any one can tell me； and write
accordingly； if my career is nipped in the bud； as seems only too
likely； I really do not know where else I can turn for present
agreeable occupation； nor yet how to make suitable provision for my
later years。 Other writers can； of course； make excellent provision
for their own old ages； but they cannot do so for mine； any more
than I should succeed if I were to try to cater for theirs。 It is
one of those cases in which no man can make agreement for his
brother。
I have no heart for continuing this article； and if I had； I have
nothing of interest to say。 No one's literary career can have been
smoother or more unchequered than mine。 I have published all my
books at my own expense； and paid for them in due course。 What can
be conceivably more unromantic？ For some years I had a little
literary grievance against the authorities of the British Museum
because they would insist on saying in their catalogue that I had
published three sermons on Infidelity in the year 1820。 I thought I
had not； and got them out to see。 They were rather funny； but they
were not mine。 Now； however； this grievance has been removed。 I
had another little quarrel with them because they would describe me
as 〃of St。 John's College； Cambridge；〃 an establishment for which I
have the most profound veneration； but with which I have not had the
honour to be connected for some quarter of a century。 At last they
said they would change this description if I would only tell them
what I was； for； though they had done their best to find out； they
had themselves failed。 I replied with modest pride that I was a
Bachelor of Arts。 I keep all my other letters inside my name； not
outside。 They mused and said it was unfortunate that I was not a
Master of Arts。 Could I not get myself made a Master？ I said I
understood that a Mastership was an article the University could not
do under about five pounds； and that I was not disposed to go
sixpence higher than three ten。 They again said it was a pity； for
it would be very inconvenient to them if I did not keep to something
between a bishop and a poet。 I might be anything I liked in reason；
provided I showed proper respect for the alphabet； but they had got
me between 〃Samuel Butler； bishop；〃 and 〃Samuel Butler； poet。〃 It
would be very troublesome to shift me； and bachelor came before
bishop。 This wa