Books not to read at all, such as Thomson's Seasons, Rogers's Italy,
Paley's Evidences, all the Fathers except St. Augustine, all John Stuart
Mill except the essay on Liberty, all Voltaire's plays without any
exception, Butler's Analogy, Grant's Aristotle, Hume's England, Lewes's
History of Philosophy, all argumentative books and all books that try to
prove anything.

The third class is by far the most important. To tell people what to
read is, as a rule, either useless or harmful; for, the appreciation of
literature is a question of temperament not of teaching; to Parnassus
there is no primer and nothing that one can learn is ever worth learning.
But to tell people what not to read is a very different matter, and I
venture to recommend it as a mission to the University Extension Scheme.

Indeed, it is one that is eminently needed in this age of ours, an age
that reads so much, that it has no time to admire, and writes so much,
that it has no time to think. Whoever will select out of the chaos of
our modern curricula 'The Worst Hundred Books,' and publish a list of
them, will confer on the rising generation a real and lasting benefit.

After expressing these views I suppose I should not offer any suggestions
at all with regard to 'The Best Hundred Books,' but I hope you will allow
me the pleasure of being inconsistent, as I am anxious to put in a claim
for a book that has been strangely omitted by most of the excellent
judges who have contributed to your columns. I mean the Greek Anthology.
The beautiful poems contained in this collection seem to me to hold the
same position with regard to Greek dramatic literature as do the delicate
little figurines of Tanagra to the Phidian marbles, and to be quite as
necessary for the complete understanding of the Greek spirit.

I am also amazed to find that Edgar Allan Poe has been passed over.
Surely this marvellous lord of rhythmic expression deserves a place? If,
in order to make room for him, it be necessary to elbow out some one
else, I should elbow out Southey, and I think that Baudelaire might be
most advantageously substituted for Keble.

No doubt, both in the Curse of Kehama and in the Christian Year there are
poetic qualities of a certain kind, but absolute catholicity of taste is
not without its dangers. It is only an auctioneer who should admire all
schools of art.

TWELFTH NIGHT AT OXFORD

(Dramatic Review, February 20, 1886.)

On Saturday last th