The benevolence of Thomson was fervid, but not active; he would give
on all occasions what assistance his purse would supply, but the
offices of intervention or solicitation he could not conquer his
sluggishness sufficiently to perform. The affairs of others,
however, were not more neglected than his own. He had often felt
the inconveniences of idleness, but he never cured it; and was so
conscious of his own character that he talked of writing an Eastern
tale "Of the Man who Loved to be in Distress." Among his
peculiarities was a very unskilful and inarticulate manner of
pronouncing any lofty or solemn composition. He was once reading to
Dodington, who, being himself a reader eminently elegant, was so
much provoked by his odd utterance that he snatched the paper from
his hands and told him that he did not understand his own verses.

The biographer of Thomson has remarked that an author's life is best
read in his works; his observation was not well timed. Savage, who
lived much with Thomson, once told me how he heard a lady remarking
that she could gather from his works three-parts of his character:
that he was "a great lover, a great swimmer, and rigorously
abstinent;" "but," said Savage, "he knows not any love but that of
the sex; he was, perhaps, never in cold water in his life; and he
indulges himself in all the luxury that comes within his reach."
Yet Savage always spoke with the most eager praise of his social
qualities, his warmth and constancy of friendship, and his adherence
to his first acquaintance when the advancement of his reputation had
left them behind him.

As a writer, he is entitled to one praise of the highest kind: his
mode of thinking and of expressing his thoughts is original. His
blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton, or of any other