CXIII. TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Pembroke Hall, Tuesday, 1756.

DEAR SKRODDLES-If all the Greek you transcribe for me were poetry already, I would bestir myself to oblige you and Mr. Rivett ;1 but as it is no more than measured prose, and as unfortunately (in English verse) a tripod with two ears or more has no more dignity than a chamber-pot with one, I do not see why you would have me dress it up with any florid additions, which it must have, if it would appear in rhyme; nor why it will not prove its point as well in a plain prose translation as in the best numbers of Dryden. If you think otherwise, why do not you do it yourself, and consult me if you think fit?

I rejoice to hear the prints succeed so well, and am impatient for the work, but do not approve the finelady part of it; what business have such people with Athens? I applaud your scheme for Gaskarth,2 and wish it could have succeeded. He bears his disappointment like a philosopher, but his health is very bad. I have had the honour myself of some little grumblings of the gout for this fortnight, and yesterday it would not let me put on a shoe to hear the

1 Nicholas Rivett, the associate of Mr. J. Stuart in the measurement and delineation of the Antiquities of Athens.[Mit.]

2 Joseph Gaskarth was treasurer of the College of Pembroke; in 1747 he was the fifth senior wrangler.-[Mit.]

Frasi in,1 so you may imagine I am in a sweet amiable humour; nevertheless, I think of being in town (perhaps I may not be able to stir) the middle of next week, with Montagu. You are so cross-grained as to go to Tunbridge just before I come, but I will give you the trouble to enquire about my old quarters at Roberts's, if I can probably have a lodging at that time; if not there, may be I can be in the Oven, which will do well enough for a sinner: be so good to give me notice, and the sooner the better. I shall not stay above a week, and then go to Stoke. I rejoice to know that the genial influences of the spring, which produce nothing but the gout in me, have hatched high and unimaginable fantasies in you. I see, methinks (as I sit on Snowdon), some glimpse of Mona and her haunted shades, and hope we shall be very good neighbours. Any Druidical anecdotes that I can meet with I will be sure to send you. I am of your opinion, that the ghosts will spoil the picture, unless they are thrown at a huge distance, and extremely kept down.

The British Flag,2 I fear, has behaved itself like a trained-band pair of colours in Bunhill Fields. I think every day of going to Switzerland; will you be of the party, or stay and sing mass at Aston? Adieu! I am stupid, and in some pain; but ever very sincerely yours, T. G.

1 An opera-singer not of the first rank. She was pupil to Signor Brivio.-[Mit.]

2 Allusion to the loss of Minorca and Admiral Byng's conduct.

CXIV. TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Stoke, July 25, 1756.

you

DEAR MASON-I feel a contrition for my long silence, and yet perhaps it is the last thing you trouble your head about; nevertheless, I will be as sorry if took it ill. I am sorry too to see you so punctilious as to stand upon answers, and never to come near me till I have regularly left my name at your door, like a mercer's wife that imitates people who go a visiting. I would forgive you this, if you could possibly suspect I were doing anything that I liked better, for then your formality might look like being piqued at my negligence, which has somewhat in it like kindness; but you know I am at Stoke, hearing, seeing, doing, absolutely nothing, not such a nothing as you do at Tunbridge, chequered and diversified with a succession of fleeting colours, but heavy, lifeless, without form and void; sometimes almost as black as the moral of Voltaire's "Lisbon,"1 which angers you so. I have had no more pores and muscular inflations, and am only troubled with this depression of mind; you will not expect therefore I should give you any account of my verve, which is at best, you know, of so delicate a constitution, and has such weak nerves, as not to stir out of its chamber above three days in a year, but I shall enquire after yours, and why it is off again; it

1 "Poème sur la Desastre de Lisbon, 1755; ou, Examen de cet axiome Tout est bien."

has certainly worse nerves than mine, if your reviewers have frighted it. Sure I (not to mention a score of your uncles and aunts) am something a better judge than all the man midwives and presbyterian parsons that ever were born. Pray give me leave to ask you, do you find yourself tickled with the commendations of such people? for you have your share of these too. I dare say not; your vanity has certainly a better taste; and can, then, the censure of such critics move you? I own it is an impertinence in these gentry to talk of one at all either in good or in bad, but this we must all swallow; I mean not only we that write, but all the we's that ever did anything to be talked of. I cannot pretend to be learned without books, nor to know the Druids from the Pelasgi at this distance from Cambridge. I can only tell you not to go and take the Mona for the Isle of Man; it is Anglesey, a tract of plain country, very fertile, but picturesque only from the view it has of Caernarvonshire, from which it is separated by the Menai, a narrow arm of the sea. Forgive me for supposing in you such a want of erudition.

I congratulate you on our glorious successes in the Mediterranean. Shall we go in time, and hire a house together in Switzerland? it is a fine poetical country to look at, and nobody there will understand a word we say or write. Pray let me know what you are about; what new acquaintances you have made at Tunbridge; how you do in body and in mind; believe me ever sincerely yours,

T. G.

Have you read Madame Maintenon's Letters? When I saw Lord John1 in town, he said, if his brother went to Ireland you were to go second chaplain, but it seemed to me not at all certain that the Duke would return thither; you probably know by this time.

CXV. TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON.

Stoke, Friday, July 30, 1756.

DEAR MASON-I received your letters both at once yesterday, which was Thursday, such is the irregularity of our post. The affair of Southwell, at this time, is exceedingly unlucky; if it is committed to you by all means defer it. It is even worth while to stop Mrs. Southwell, who will enter into the reason of it. Another thing is, you have very honestly and generously renounced your own interest (I mention it not as a compliment, but pour la rareté du fait) to serve Mr. Brown. But what if you might serve him still better by seemingly making interest for yourself? Addison must certainly be a competitor; he will have the old (new) Lord Walpole, of Wolterton, his patron, to back him, the Bishop of Chester,2 the heads, who know him for a staunch man, and consequently the

1 Lord John Cavendish, afterwards Chancellor of the Exchequer, and known, from his fair small person, and his classical accomplishment, as "the learned canary-bird."—[Ed.]

2 Dr. Edmund Keene, Master of St. Peter's College, Cambridge; and who, on resigning the Mastership, procured Dr. Law to be elected. He will be mentioned again, more fully.