JAMES THOMSON, the son of a minister well esteemed for his piety and
diligence, was born September 7, 1700, at Ednam, in the shire of
Roxburgh, of which his father was pastor. His mother, whose name was
Hume, inherited as co-heiress a portion of a small estate. The revenue
of a parish in Scotland is seldom large; and it was probably in
commiseration of the difficulty with which Mr. Thomson supported his
family, having nine children, that Mr. Riccarton, a neighbouring
minister, discovering in James uncommon promises of future excellence,
undertook to superintend his education, and provide him books. He was
taught the common rudiments of learning at the school of Jedburgh, a
place which he delights to recollect in his poem of “Autumn;” but was not
considered by his master as superior to common boys, though in those
early days he amused his patron and his friends with poetical
compositions; with which, however, he so little pleased himself that on
every New Year’s Day he threw into the fire all the productions of the
foregoing year.
From the school he was removed to Edinburgh, where he had not resided two
years when his father died, and left all his children to the care of
their mother, who raised upon her little estate what money a mortgage
could afford; and, removing with her family to Edinburgh, lived to see
her son rising into eminence.
The design of Thomson’s friends was to breed him a minister. He lived at
Edinburgh, at a school, without distinction or expectation, till at the
usual time he performed a probationary exercise by explaining a psalm.
His diction was so poetically splendid, that Mr. Hamilton, the professor
of divinity, reproved him for speaking language unintelligible to a
popular audience; and he censured one of his expressions as indecent, if
not profane. This rebuke is reported to have repressed his thoughts of
an ecclesiastical character, and he probably cultivated with new
diligence his blossoms of poetry, which, however, were in some danger of
a blast; for, submitting his productions to some who thought themselves
qualified to criticise, he heard of nothing but faults; but, finding
other judges more favourable, he did not suffer himself to sink into
despondence. He easily discovered that the only stage on which a poet
could appear with any hope of advantage was London; a place too wide for
the operation of petty competition and private malignity, where merit
might soon become conspicuous, and would find friends as soon as it
became reputable to befriend it. A lady who was acquainted with his
mother advised him to the journey, and promised some countenance or
assistance, which at last he never received; however, he justified his
adventure by her encouragement, and came to seek in London patronage and
fame. At his arrival he found his way to Mr. Mallet, then tutor to the
sons of the Duke of Montrose. He had recommendations to several persons
of consequence, which he had tied up carefully in his handkerchief; but
as he passed along the street, with the gaping curiosity of a newcomer,
his attention was upon everything rather than his pocket, and his
magazine of credentials was stolen from him.
His first want was a pair of shoes. For the supply of all his
necessities, his whole fund was his “Winter,” which for a time could find
no purchaser; till at last Mr. Millan was persuaded to buy it at a low
price; and this low price he had for some time reason to regret; but, by
accident, Mr. Whately, a man not wholly unknown among authors, happening
to turn his eye upon it, was so delighted that he ran from place to place
celebrating its excellence. Thomson obtained likewise the notice of
Aaron Hill, whom, being friendless and indigent, and glad of kindness, he
courted with every expression of servile adulation.
“Winter” was dedicated to Sir Spencer Compton, but attracted no regard
from him to the author; till Aaron Hill awakened his attention by some
verses addressed to Thomson, and published in one of the newspapers,
which censured the great for their neglect of ingenious men. Thomson
then received a present of twenty guineas, of which he gives this account
to Mr. Hill:—
“I hinted to you in my last that on Saturday morning I was with Sir
Spencer Compton. A certain gentleman, without my desire, spoke to
him concerning me: his answer was that I had never come near him.
Then the gentleman put the question, if he desired that I should wait
on him? He returned, he did. On this the gentleman gave me an
introductory letter to him. He received me in what they commonly
call a civil manner; asked me some common-place questions, and made
me a present of twenty guineas. I am very ready to own that the
present was larger than my performance deserved; and shall ascribe it
to his generosity, or any other cause, rather than the merit of the
address.”
The poem, which, being of a new kind, few would venture at first to like,
by degrees gained upon the public; and one edition was very speedily
succeeded by another.
Thomson’s credit was now high, and every day brought him new friends;
among others Dr. Rundle, a man afterwards unfortunately famous, sought
his acquaintance, and found his qualities such that he recommended him to
the Lord Chancellor Talbot.
“Winter” was accompanied, in many editions, not only with a preface and
dedication, but with poetical praises by Mr. Hill, Mr. Mallet (then
Malloch), and Mira, the fictitious name of a lady once too well known.
Why the dedications are, to “Winter” and the other Seasons, contrarily to
custom, left out in the collected works, the reader may inquire.
The next year (1727) he distinguished himself by three publications: of
“Summer,” in pursuance of his plan; of “A Poem on the Death of Sir Isaac
Newton,” which he was enabled to perform as an exact philosopher by the
instruction of Mr. Gray; and of “Britannia,” a kind of poetical invective
against the Ministry, whom the nation then thought not forward enough in
resenting the depredations of the Spaniards. By this piece he declared
himself an adherent to the Opposition, and had therefore no favour to
expect from the Court.
Thomson, having been some time entertained in the family of Lord Binning,
was desirous of testifying his gratitude by making him the patron of his
“Summer;” but the same kindness which had first disposed Lord Binning to
encourage him, determined him to refuse the dedication, which was by his
advice addressed to Mr. Dodington, a man who had more power to advance
the reputation and fortune of a poet.
“Spring” was published next year, with a dedication to the Countess of
Hertford, whose practice it was to invite every summer some poet into the
country, to hear her verses and assist her studies. This honour was one
summer conferred on Thomson, who took more delight in carousing with Lord
Hertford and his friends than assisting her ladyship’s poetical
operations, and therefore never received another summons.
“Autumn,” the season to which the “Spring” and “Summer” are preparatory,
still remained unsung, and was delayed till he published (1730) his works
collected.
He produced in 1727 the tragedy of Sophonisba, which raised such
expectation that every rehearsal was dignified with a splendid audience,
collected to anticipate the delight that was preparing for the public.
It was observed, however, that nobody was much affected, and that the
company rose as from a moral lecture. It had upon the stage no unusual
degree of success. Slight accidents will operate upon the taste of
pleasure. There is a feeble line in the play:—
“O Sophonisba, Sophonisba, O!”