Wonder is the natural product of Ignorance; and as the soil was in such good condition at the time of the publication of the ‘Seasons,’ the crop was doubtless abundant.  Neither individuals nor nations become corrupt all at once, nor are they enlightened in a moment.  Thomson was an inspired poet, but he could not work miracles; in cases where the art of seeing had in some degree been learned, the teacher would further the proficiency of his pupils, but he could do little more; though so far does vanity assist men in acts of self-deception, that many would often fancy they recognised a likeness when they knew nothing of the original.  Having shown that much of what his biographer deemed genuine admiration must in fact have been blind wonderment—­how is the rest to be accounted for?—­Thomson was fortunate in the very title of his poem, which seemed to bring it home to the prepared sympathies of every one:  in the next place, notwithstanding his high powers, he writes a vicious style; and his false ornaments are exactly of that kind which would be most likely to strike the undiscerning.  He likewise abounds with sentimental common-places, that, from the manner in which they were brought forward, bore an imposing air of novelty.  In any well-used copy of the ‘Seasons’ the book generally opens of itself with the rhapsody on love, or with one of the stories (perhaps ’Damon and Musidora’); these also are prominent in our collections of Extracts, and are the parts of his Work, which, after all, were probably most efficient in first recommending the author to general notice.  Pope, repaying praises which he had received, and wishing to extol him to the highest, only styles him ’an elegant and philosophical poet;’ nor are we able to collect any unquestionable proofs that the true characteristics of Thomson’s genius as an imaginative poet[15] were perceived, till the elder Warton, almost forty years after the publication of the ‘Seasons,’ pointed them out by a note in his Essay on the Life and Writings of Pope.  In the ’Castle of Indolence’ (of which Gray speaks so coldly) these characteristics were almost as conspicuously displayed, and in verse more harmonious, and diction more pure.  Yet that fine poem was neglected on its appearance, and is at this day the delight only of a few!

[15] Since these observations upon Thomson were written, I have perused the second edition of his ‘Seasons,’ and find that even that does not contain the most striking passages which Warton points out for admiration; these, with other improvements, throughout the whole work, must have been added at a later period.

When Thomson died, Collins breathed forth his regrets in an Elegiac Poem, in which he pronounces a poetical curse upon him who should regard with insensibility the place where the Poet’s remains were deposited.  The Poems of the mourner himself have now passed through innumerable editions, and are universally known; but if, when Collins died, the same kind of imprecation had been pronounced by a surviving admirer, small is the number whom it would not have comprehended.  The notice which his poems attained during his life-time was so small, and of course the sale so insignificant, that not long before his death he deemed it right to repay to the bookseller the sum which he had advanced for them, and threw the edition into the fire.