Volume V Part 17 (1/2)

Upon the death of his generous patron, lord chancellor Talbot, for whom the nation joined with Mr. Thomson in the most sincere inward sorrow, he wrote an elegiac poem, which does honour to the author, and to the memory of that great man he meant to celebrate. He enjoyed, during lord Talbot's life, a very profitable place, which that worthy patriot had conferred upon him, in recompence of the care he had taken in forming the mind of his son. Upon his death, his lords.h.i.+p's successor reserved the place for Mr. Thomson, and always expected when he should wait upon him, and by performing some formalities enter into the possession of it.

This, however, by an unaccountable indolence he neglected, and at last the place, which he might have enjoyed with so little trouble, was bestowed upon another.

Amongst the latest of Mr. Thomson's productions is his Castle of Indolence, a poem of so extraordinary merit, that perhaps we are not extravagant, when we declare, that this single performance discovers more genius and poetical judgment, than all his other works put together. We cannot here complain of want of plan, for it is artfully laid, naturally conducted, and the descriptions rise in a beautiful succession: It is written in imitation of Spenser's stile; and the obsolete words, with the simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which borders on the ludicrous, have been thought necessary to make the imitation more perfect.

'The stile (says Mr. Thomson) of that admirable poet, as well as the measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to all allegorical poems written in our language; just as in French, the stile of Marot, who lived under Francis the 1st, has been used in Tales and familiar Epistles, by the politest writers of the age of Louis the XIVth.'

We shall not at present enquire how far Mr. Thomson is justifiable in using the obsolete words of Spenser: As Sir Roger de Coverley observed on another occasion, much may be said on both sides. One thing is certain, Mr. Thomson's imitation is excellent, and he must have no poetry in his imagination, who can read the picturesque descriptions in his Castle of Indolence, without emotion. In his Lx.x.xIst Stanza he has the following picture of beauty:

Here languid beauty kept her pale-fac'd court, Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree, From every quarter hither made resort; Where, from gross mortal care, and bus'ness free, They lay, pour'd out in ease and luxury: Or should they a vain shew of work a.s.sume, Alas! and well-a-day! what can it be?

To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom; But far is cast the distaff, spinning-wheel and loom.

He pursues the description in the subsequent Stanza.

Their only labour was to kill the time; And labour dire it is, and weary woe.

They fit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhime; Then rising sudden, to the gla.s.s they go, Or saunter forth, with tott'ring steps and slow: This soon too rude an exercise they find; Strait on the couch their limbs again they throw, Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclin'd, And court the vapoury G.o.d soft breathing in the wind.

In the two following Stanzas, the dropsy and hypochondria are beautifully described.

Of limbs enormous, but withal unsound, Soft swoln and pale, here lay the Hydropsy: Unwieldly man; with belly monstrous round, For ever fed with watery supply; For still he drank, and yet he still was dry.

And moping here did Hypochondria sit, Mother of spleen, in robes of various die, Who vexed was full oft with ugly fit; And some her frantic deem'd, and some her deem'd a wit.

A lady proud she was, of antient blood, Yet oft her fear, her pride made crouchen low: She felt, or fancy'd in her fluttering mood, All the diseases which the spitals know, And sought all physic which the shops bestow; And still new leaches, and new drugs would try, Her humour ever wavering too and fro; For sometimes she would laugh, and sometimes cry, And sudden waxed wroth, and all she knew not why.

The speech of Sir Industry in the second Canto, when he enumerates the various blessings which flow from action, is surely one of the highest instances of genius which can be produced in poetry. In the second stanza, before he enters upon the subject, the poet complains of the decay of patronage, and the general depravity of taste; and in the third breaks out into the following exclamation, which is so perfectly beautiful, that it would be the greatest mortification not to transcribe it,

I care not, fortune, what you me deny: You cannot rob me of free nature's grace; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shews her bright'ning face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream at eve: Let health my nerves, and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave; Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.

Before we quit this poem, permit us, reader, to give you two more stanzas from it: the first shews Mr. Thomson's opinion of Mr. Quin as an actor; of their friends.h.i.+p we may say more hereafter.

STANZA LXVII.

Of the CASTLE of INDOLENCE.

Here whilom ligg'd th'Aesopus[6] of the age; But called by fame, in foul yp.r.i.c.ked deep, A n.o.ble pride restor'd him to the stage, And rous'd him like a giant from his sleep.

Even from his slumbers we advantage reap: With double force th'enliven'd scene he wakes, Yet quits not nature's bounds. He knows to keep Each due decorum: now the heart he shakes, And now with well-urg'd sense th'enlighten'd judgment takes.

The next stanza (wrote by a friend of the author's, as the note mentions) is a friendly, though familiar, compliment; it gives us an image of our bard himself, at once entertaining, striking, and just.

STANZA LXVIII.

A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems, Who void of envy, guile, and l.u.s.t of gain, On virtue still, and nature's pleasing themes, Pour'd forth his unpremeditated strain: The world forsaking with a calm disdain.

Here laugh'd he, careless in his easy seat; Here quaff'd, encircl'd with the joyous train, Oft moralizing sage: his ditty sweet He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat.

We shall now consider Mr. Thomson as a dramatic writer.

In the year 1730, about six years after he had been in London, he brought a Tragedy upon the stage, called Sophonisba, built upon the Carthaginian history of that princess, and upon which the famous Nathaniel Lee has likewise written a Tragedy. This play met with a favourable reception from the public. Mrs. Oldfield greatly distinguished herself in the character of Sophonisba, which Mr. Thomson acknowledges in his preface.--'I cannot conclude, says he, without owning my obligations to those concerned in the representation. They have indeed done me more than justice; Whatever was designed as amiable and engageing in Masinessa s.h.i.+nes out in Mr. Wilks's action. Mrs.

Oldfield, in the character of Sophonisba, has excelled what even in the fondness of an author I could either wish or imagine. The grace, dignity and happy variety of her action, have been universally applauded, and are truly admirable.'

Before we quit this play, we must not omit two anecdotes which happened the first night of the representation. Mr. Thomson makes one of his characters address Sophonisba in a line, which some critics reckoned the false pathetic.

O! Sophonisba, Sophonisba Oh!