Did you know Andrew Millar, the bookseller?
I knew him well. He took a box near Thomson’s, in Kew-lane, to keep in with him as an author who might be profitable to him. Andrew was a good-natured man, and not an unpleasant companion, but he was a little contracted in mind by his business, and had the dross of a bookseller about him.
Did you know Paterson?
Yes. Paterson had been clerk to a counting-house in the city, went for some time abroad, and on his return was amanuensis to Thomson, was his deputy as surveyor-general to the Leeward Islands, and succeeded him in that office, but he did not live long to enjoy it, I believe not more than two years.
Collins, the poet, and Hammond, author of the “Love Elegies,” visited Thomson?
Yes. Ah! poor Collins, he had much genius, but half mad. Hammond was a gentleman, and a very pleasant man. Yet Thomson, I remember, one day called him a burnished butterfly. Quin, the comedian, was a sincere friend of Thomson; he was naturally a most humane and friendly man, and only put on the brute when he thought it was expected from him by those who gave him credit for the character.
Was the anecdote of Quin and Thomson true?
Yes, I believe it was.
Boswell surmised that Thomson was a much coarser man than is commonly allowed?
Sir, Thomson was neither a petit-maître nor a boor; he had simplicity without rudeness, and a cultivated manner without being courtly. He had a great aversion to letter-writing, and did not attempt much of prose composition of any kind. His time for composition was generally at the dead of night, and was much in his summer-house, which, together with every memorial of his residence, is carefully preserved by the honourable Mrs. Boscawen.