would shew that, about Tiberius' and Claudius' times the Druids, persecuted and dispersed by the Romans, probably retired into Germany, and propagated their doctrines there. This is to account for some similitude to the Gaulish notions which the religion of Germany seems to bear, as Tacitus has described it, whereas Julius Cæsar makes them extremely different, who lived before this supposed dispersion of the Druids; the other by Monsieur Freret, is as to shew the reverse of all this, that there was no such dispersion, no such similitude, and that, if Cæsar and Tacitus disagree, it is because the first knew nothing but of those nations that bordered on the Rhine, and the other was acquainted with all Germany. I do not know whether these will furnish you with any new matter, but they are well enough written and easily read. I told you before, that, in a time of dearth, I would venture to borrow from the Edda without entering too minutely on particulars; but, if I did so, I would make each image so clear, that it might be fully understood by itself, for in this obscure mythology we must not hint at things, as we do with the Greek fables, that everybody is supposed to know at school. However, on second thoughts, I think it would be still better to graft any wild picturesque fable, absolutely of one's own invention, upon the Druid stock; I mean upon those half-dozen of old fancies that are known to have made their system: this will give you more freedom and latitude, and will leave no hold for the critics to fasten on. Pray, when did I pretend to finish, or even insert passages into other people's works as if it were equally easy to pick holes and to mend them. All I can say is, that your Elegy must not end with the worst line in it; it is flat, it is prose; whereas that above all ought to sparkle, or at least to shine. If the sentiment must stand, twirl it a little into an apophthegm, stick a flower in it, gild it with a costly expression; let it strike the fancy, the ear, or the heart, and I am satisfied. Hodges is a sad fellow; so is Dr. Akenside,1 and Mr. Shenstone, our friends and companions. Your story of Garrick is a good one; pray is it true, and what came of it? did the tragic poet call a guard?2 It was I that hindered Mr. Brown from sending the pamphlet. It is nonsense, and that nonsense all stolen from Dr. Stukeley's book about Abury and Stonehenge; yet if you will have it, you may. Adieu, and let me hear soon from you.—I am ever yours, T. G. CXLVII. -TO THOMAS WHARTON. DEAR DOCTOR-I am much concerned to hear the account you give of yourself, and particularly for 1 Gray alludes to the two additional volumes to Dodsley's Collection of Poems, which came out in the year 1758, and contained his two Odes, and some poems by Mason, Shenstone, Akenside, etc. Gray disliked Akenside, and in general all poetry in blank verse, except Milton.—[Mit.] 2 This may allude to the disputes with Arthur Murphy regarding “The Orphan of China.”—[Mit.] that dejection of spirits, which inclines you to see everything in the worst light possible, and throw a sort of voluntary gloom not only over your present, but future days, as if even your situation now were not preferable to that of thousands round you, and as if your prospect hereafter might not open as much of happiness to you, as to any person you know. The condition of our life perpetually instructs us to be rather slow to hope, as well as to despair, and (I know, you will forgive me, if I tell you) you are often a little too hasty in both, perhaps from constitution. It is sure, we have great power over our own minds, when we choose to exert it; and though it be difficult to resist the mechanic impulse and bias of our own temper, it is yet possible; and still more so, to delay those resolutions it inclines us to take, which we almost always have cause to repent. You tell me nothing of Mrs. Wharton's, or your own state of health. I will not talk to you more on this subject, till I hear you are both well, for that is the grand point, and without it we may as well not think at all. You flatter me in thinking, that anything, I can do,1 could at all alleviate the just concern your late loss has given you: but I cannot flatter myself so far, and know how little qualified I am at present to give any satisfaction to myself on this head, and in this way, much less to you. I by no means pretend to inspiration, but yet I affirm, that 1 Dr. Wharton had requested him to write an epitaph on the child. [Mason.] the faculty in question is by no means voluntary. It is the result (I suppose) of a certain disposition of mind, which does not depend on oneself, and which I have not felt this long time. You that are a witness, how seldom this spirit has moved me in my life, may easily give credit to what I say. I am in hopes of seeing you very soon again in my way to Stoke. Mrs. Rogers has been very ill this Spring, and my other aunt writes me word, that she herself has had something (which she takes for a paralytic stroke) which came as she walked in the garden, and is afraid, she shall lose the use of one leg so that it looks to me, as if I should have perhaps some years to pass in a house with two poor bed-ridden women, a melancholy object, and one that in common humanity I cannot avoid. I shall be glad to know, whether I can be in Gloucester Street for a week, ten or twelve days hence. : I had wrote to you sooner, but that I have been on a little expedition lately to see Ely, Peterborough, Crowland Abbey, Thorney, Fotheringay, and many other old places, which has amused me a little. Poor Mason is all alone at Aston (for his Curate is gone to be Tutor to somebody) with an inflammation in his eyes, and could scarce see to write me a few lines. Adieu, dear Sir, I am ever yours, June 18, 1758. T. G. CXLVIII. -TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON. June 20, 1758. DEAR MASON-I sympathise with your eyes, having been confined at Florence with the same complaint for three weeks, but (I hope) in a much worse degree, for, besides not seeing, I could not sleep in the night for pain; have a care of old women (who are all great oculists), and do not let them trifle with so tender a part. I have been exercising my eyes at Peterborough, Crowland, Thorney, Ely, etc.; am grown a great Fen antiquary; this was the reason I did not answer you directly, as your letter came in my absence. I own I have been all this while expecting Caractacus or at least three choruses, and now you do not so much as tell me it is finished: sure your spiritual functions, and even your attentions to the Duchess of Norfolk and Sir Conyers,1 might have allowed you some little intervals for poetry; if not (now Queen 1 The Right Honourable Sir Conyers d'Arcy, K.B., younger son of John Lord d'Arcy, by the Hon. Bridget Sutton, only surviving daughter of Robert Lord Lexington. He was appointed Master of the King's Household 1719-20; K.B. 1725; Comptroller of the Household and a Privy Counsellor 1730; Lord Lieutenant of the North Riding during the minority of his nephew, Robert Earl of Holdernesse; M. P. for Richmond from 1728 to 1747, and for Yorkshire from 1747 to his death, in 1758. "Lady M. W. Montagu.--Her father fell in love with Lady Anne Bentinck, who forsook for him Sir Conyers Darcy, who had long been HER lover, and on whose despair Rowe wrote the ballad of 'Colin's Complaint.""-MS. note by Horace Walpole.-[Mit.] |