Page:Dictionary of National Biography volume 56.djvu/257

 his estate in the interests of the relatives in Scotland.

The posthumous tragedy of ‘Coriolanus’ was presented at Covent Garden on 13 Jan. 1749, the chief part, which had formerly been claimed by Garrick, being conceded to the poet's friend Quin. The actor is said to have broken down in repeating Lyttelton's prologue when he came to the lines: Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line, which dying, he could wish to blot. The proceeds were sent to Thomson's sisters. ‘Coriolanus’ having been produced and printed (1749, 8vo; Dublin, 12mo), there seemed little left for a literary executor to do; but Lyttelton took an exceptional view of his responsibilities. He brought out an edition of Thomson's ‘Works’ in 1750 (London, 4 vols. 12mo), in which, in spite of the sentiment uttered in the prologue, he cut out two stanzas (55 and 56) from the ‘Castle of Indolence,’ fourteen hundred verses from ‘Liberty,’ and a number of minor ‘redundancies’ from ‘The Seasons.’ This, however, by no means exhausted his sense of obligation to his friend's memory. He prepared, but did not publish, an edition in which, apart from suppressions, the philosophy of the poet was ‘corrected,’ the deistic ‘Hymn’ bodily eliminated, and long passages modified and transposed ‘beyond recognition’ (the interleaved copy embodying these editorial changes is still preserved at Hagley). Happily Murdoch, with the support of Millar, energetically intervened, and for the quarto edition of 1762 the text adopted was practically that of 1750 (it was left for Bolton Corney in 1842 to restore the text as the poet left it in 1746). The superbly printed and illustrated edition of 1762 was published by subscription (London, 2 vols. 4to, with the memoir by Patrick Murdoch), the king heading the subscribers with ‘one hundred pounds,’ while the list includes most of the celebrities of the day, from Akenside to Wilkes (see, Libr. Comp. 1825, p. 740 n.) With the proceeds a cenotaph, designed by Robert Adam and executed by H. Spang, was erected between the monuments of Shakespeare and Rowe in Westminster Abbey. Other literary memorials were the ‘Musidorus’ of Robert Shiels, the graceful strophes of Shenstone (Verses to William Lyttelton, ad fin.), and the fine elegiac ‘Ode’ by Collins, ‘In yonder grave a druid lies’ (see Gent. Mag. 1843, i. 493, 602).

Thomson's cottage in Kew Foot Lane became after numerous accretions Rosedale House. In 1786 it became the residence of Mrs. Boscawen, the widow of the admiral, who treasured in the rooms formerly occupied by the poet a number of Thomson relics. What little remains of the old house after many changes is now incorporated in the Richmond Royal Hospital (see {sc|Thorne}}, Environs of London, 1876, p. 502;, Richmond, 1824; Addit. MS. 27578, ff. 120–7). Commemorative lines on Thomson may still be seen upon a board within the grounds of Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park.

But a few stories remain to confirm the tradition of Thomson's indolence and epicureanism. The notion that he was extremely fat seems contradicted by his activity. He is said, however, to have risen habitually at noon, to have eaten the sunny side off the peaches in his garden with his hands in his pockets, and to have cut his books with the snuffers. He was especially careless about matters of attire, yet was a dandy in the matter of perukes. Like Cowley (between whom and Thomson Leigh Hunt, in his ‘Men, Women, and Books,’ works out with great ingenuity ‘a kind of identity’), he knew how to push the bottle, and his cellar was rich in old wines and Scotch ale. He also formed a fine collection of prints, and a library of from five to six hundred books. Like Addison, the author of ‘The Seasons’ is said to have been dull as a talker until excited by wine. His sensibility was great, so much so that in reading fine poetry he always lost control of himself. He generally composed in the deep silence of the night, and could be heard ‘walking in his library till near morning, humming over in his way what he was to correct and write out next day’. It is evident that he was liberal-minded, good-humoured, and free from any mean failings. He had a rare power of attaching friends; the way in which he captivated the good will of Pope is remarkable, and generous to a high degree was the sentiment that existed between him and James Quin.

‘The Seasons’ may be regarded as inaugurating a new era in English poetry. Lady Winchilsea and John Dyer, whose ‘Grongar Hill’ was published a few months before ‘Winter,’ had pleaded by their work for a truthful and unaffected and at the same time a romantic treatment of nature in poetry; but the ideal of artificiality by which English poetry was dominated under the influence of Cowley and Pope was first effectively challenged by Thomson. It was he who transmitted the sentiment of nature not only to imitators like Savage (cf. The Wanderer, 1729), Armstrong, Somerville, and Shenstone, but also to Gray and Cowper, and so indirectly to Wordsworth. Cowper in