by the

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agement of the public affairs; would not risk the repre-
sentation of a piece written under his eye, and, they might
probably think, by his command.

This refusal drew after it another; and in a way which,
as it is related, was rather ludicrous. Mr. Paterson, a com-
panion of Mr. Thomson, afterwards his deputy and then his
successor in the general-surveyorship, used to write out fair
copies for his friend, when such were wanted for the press
or for the stage. This gentleman likewise courted the tra-
gie Muse; and had taken for his subject the story of Armi-
nius, the German hero. But his play, guiltless as it was,
being presented for a licence, no sooner had the censor cast
his eyes on the hand-writing in which he had seen "Edward
and Eleonora,” than he cried out, "Away with it!" and the
author's profits were reduced to what his bookseller could
afford for a tragedy in distress.

Mr. Thomson's next dramatic performance was the Masque of "Alfred;" written, jointly with Mr. Mallet, by command of the Prince of Wales, for the entertainment of His Royal Highness's court, at his summer-residence. This piece, with some alterations, and the music new, since brought upon the stage by Mr. Mallet: but the edition we give is from the original, as it was acted at Cliffden, in the year 1740, on the birth-day of Her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta.*

has been

Cliefden (or Cliveden) House was sufficiently near to Windsor Castle to have rendered it a desirable residence, as long as the members of the royal family remained on friendly terms with each other; but it was inConveniently near when mutual dissensions kept them asunder. During this brief sunshine of royal favour, Thomson is represented to have been a frequent and favoured guest at the summer-residence of the Prince, his patron. He is casually introduced to our notice, in the following amusing mistake of Shenstone's servant, an unsophisticated youth, whom, in his first visit to London, he had brought with him from the

Leasowes:

out to view the Thames, returned, staring with astonishment: Lord, Sir! what do you think? I have seen the Prince of Wales and his

"They slept at Maidenhead; and this trusty squire, having walked

his sisters. My Lord Lyttelton's prologue to this piece was admired as one of the best that had ever been written : the best spoken it certainly was. The sympathizing audience saw that then indeed Mr. Quin was no actor; that the tears he shed were those of real friendship and grief.

Mr. Thomson's remains were deposited in the church of Richmond, under a plain stone, without any inscription: nor did his brother poets at all exert themselves on the occasion, as they had lately done for one who had been the terror of poets all his life-time. This silence furnished matter to one of his friends for an excellent satirical epigram, which we are sorry we cannot give the reader. Only one gentleman, Mr. Collins, who had lived some time at Richmond, but forsook it when Mr. Thomson died, wrote an ode to his memory. This, for the dirge-like melancholy it breathes, and the warmth of affection that seems to have dictated it, we shall subjoin to the present account.

Our author himself hints, somewhere in his works, that his exterior was not the most promising; his make being rather robust than graceful: though it is known that in his youth he had been thought handsome. His worst appearance was, when you saw him walking alone, in a thoughtful mood: but let a friend accost him, and enter into conversation, he would instantly brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated fire. The case was much alike in company; where, if it was mixed, or very numerous, he made but an indifferent figure: but with a few select friends, he was open, sprightly, and entertaining. His wit flowed freely, but pertinently, and at due intervals, leaving room for every one to contribute his share. Such was his extreme sensibility, so perfect the harmony of his organs with the sentiments of his mind, that his looks always announced, and half expressed, what he was about to say; and his voice corresponded exactly to the manner and degree in which he was affected. This sensibility had one inconvenience at

xxxi

tending it, that it rendered him the very worst reader of good poetry: a sonnet, or a copy of tame verses, he could manage pretty well; or even improve them in the reading; but a passage of Virgil, Milton, or Shakespeare, would sometimes quite oppress him, [so] that you could hear little else than some ill-articulated sounds, rising as from the bottom of his breast.

He had improved his taste upon the best originals, ancient and modern; but could not bear to write what was not strictly his own, what had not more immediately struck his imagination, or touched his heart: so that he is not in the least concerned in that question about the merit or demerit of imitators. What he borrows from the ancients, he gives us in an avowed faithful paraphrase or translation; as we see in a few passages taken from Virgil,* and in that beautiful picture from Pliny the elder, where the course and gradual increase of the Nile are figured by the stages

of man's life.

The autumn was his favourite season for poetical composition, and the deep silence of the night, the time he commonly chose for such studies; so that he would often be heard walking in his library till near morning, humming over, in his way, what he was to correct and write out next day.

The amusements of his leisure hours were civil and natural history, voyages, and the relations of travellers, the most authentic he could procure: and had his situation favoured it, he would certainly have excelled in gardening, agriculture, and every rural improvement and exercise. Although he performed on no instrument, he was passionately fond of music, and would sometimes listen a full hour at his window to the nightingales in Richmond gardens. While abroad, he had been greatly delighted with the regular Italian drama, such as Metastasio writes; as it is there heightened by the charms of the best voices and in

* See note P, p. Ixviii.

struments; and looked upon our theatrical entertainments as, in one respect, naked and imperfect, when compared with the ancient, or with those of Italy; wishing sometimes that a chorus, at least, and a better recitative, could be introduced.

Nor was his taste less exquisite in the arts of painting, wculpture, and architecture. In his travels, he had seen all the most celebrated monuments of antiquity, and the best productions of modern art; and studied them so minutely, and with so true a judgment, that in some of his descriptions in the poem of "Liberty," we have the master-pieces there mentioned placed in a stronger light perhaps than if we saw them with our eyes; at least more justly delineated than in any other account extant: so superior is a natural taste of the grand and beautiful, to the traditional lessons of a common virtuoso. His collection of prints, and some drawings from the antique, are now in the possession of his friend Mr. Gray of Richmond Hill.*

As for his more distinguishing qualities of mind and heart, they are better represented in his writings, than they can be by the pen of any biographer.+ There, his love of mankind, of his country and friends; his devotion to the Kupreme Being, founded on the most elevated and just conceptions of his operations and providence; shine out in every page. So unbounded was his tenderness of heart, that it took-in even the brute creation; judge what it must have been towards his own species. He is not indeed

* Ree a preceding note, p. xxiii.

† See note Q, p. lxix.

+1 consider Dr. Johnson to have maligned our poet's memory, by the following severe sentence :-" The benevolence of Thomson was fervid, but not active. He would give on all occasions what assistance his pures would supply; but the offices of intervention or solicitation he would not conquer his sluggishness sufficiently to perform." The testimuuty of all those who knew him intimately, tends to refute this slander, and to establish his claims to the character of a warm-hearted friend. This benevolent activity I have adduced an instance, in page 632; where his kind exertions for old Dennis's benefit are well expressed in his awa language. -EDIT.

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xxxiii

known, through his whole life, to have given any person one moment's pain, by his writings or otherwise. He took no part in the poetical squabbles which happened in his time; and was respected and left undisturbed by both sides. He would even refuse to take offence when he justly might; by interrupting any personal story that was brought him, with some jest, or some humorous apology for the offender. Nor was he ever seen ruffled or discomposed, but when he read or heard of some flagrant instance of injustice, oppression, or cruelty: then, indeed, the strongest marks of horror and indignation were visible in his countenance.

These amiable virtues, this divine temper of mind, did not fail of their due reward. His friends loved him with an enthusiastic ardour, and lamented his untimely fate in the manner that is still fresh in every one's memory; the best and greatest men of his time honoured him with their friendship and protection; the applause of the public attended every appearance he made; the actors, of whom the more eminent were his friends and admirers, grudging no pains to do justice to his tragedies. At present, indeed, if we except "Tancred," they are seldom called for; the simplicity of his plots, and the models he worked after, not suiting the reigning taste, nor the impatience of an English theatre. They may hereafter come to be in vogue; but we hazard no comment or conjecture upon them, or upon any part of Mr. Thomson's works; neither need they any defence or apology, after the reception they have had at home, and in the foreign languages into which they have been translated. We shall only say, that, to judge from the imitations of his manner, which have been following him close, from the very first publication of "Winter," he seems to have fixed no inconsiderable era of the English poetry.

Is the beautiful quarto edition of Thomson's Poetical Works, which was published by subscription in 1762, and in which the Life of the Author by Murdoch first appeared,