and prudence could no more withhold: =, though steady at his desk, was grown nd coxcomb-this he grieved to own; n left his church, and spent the day - about in quite a heathen way; es he swore, but had indeed the grace the shame imprinted on his face : his room, and in his absence read at I knew would turn a stronger head; ks of atheists half the number made, were lives of harlots leaving trade; either man or boy would deign to read, he scandal and pollution freed: nes threaten'd, and would fairly state e of things so vile and profligate; a cit, such works are lost on meknowledge, and (good Lord!) philosophy." end him down," the father soon replied; e behold him, and my skill be tried: nd kindness lose their wonted use, ugher medicine will the end produce." How near a foe, with power and vengeance fraught She brought, with many a pious boast, in view And so employ'd the hours that others waste. en with grief and anger heard his doom-The ready wit of my backsliding child." the farmer? to the rustic's home? On this, with lofty looks, our clerk began he base threat'ning-" " Nay, child, never His grave rebuke, as he assumed the man— urse; ed long, your case is growing worse."- : t him know.”—“It would his wrath excite one would act, so daring yet so cold : "There is no devil," said the hopeful youth, "Nor prince of devils; that I know for truth: Have I not told you how my books describe The arts of priests and all the canting tribe? Your Bible mentions Egypt, where it seems Was Joseph found when Pharaoh dream'd his dreams : Now in that place, in some bewilder'd head (The learned write) religious dreams were bred; They came to frighten and afflict mankind, phen, though vain, was with his father To feel disturb'd, and to my Bible ran; mute; ar'd a crisis, and he shunn'd dispute: yet he long'd with youthful pride to show ething he found that made his valour shy; son's choice volumes, and his wonder fled; aw how wrought the works of either kind so presuming, yet so weak a mind; -se in a chosen hour he made his prey, demn' and bore with vengeful thoughts away; So say my books-and what besides they show Hold, in mercy hold-" For all my sin-" In vain; stroke after stroke, case. "O! I shall die-my father! do receive My dying words; indeed I do believe; The books are lying books, I know it well, There is a devil, O! there is a hell; And I'm a sinner: spare me, I am young, My sinful words were only on my tongue; My heart consented not; 'tis all a lie: O! spare me then, I'm not prepared to die." "Vain, worthless, stupid wretch!" the father cried, "Dost thou presume to teach? art thou a guide ? Driveller and dog, it gave the mind distress The wicked cause a helping hand to lend? thee. "Lo! yonder blaze thy worthies; in one heap Thy scoundrel favourites must for ever sleep: Each yields his poison to the flame in turn, Where whores and infidels are doom'd to burn; Two noble fagots made the flame you see, Reserving only two fair twigs for thee; That in thy view the instruments may stand, And be in future ready for my hand: The just mementos that, though silent, show Whence thy correction and improvements flow; Beholding these, thou wilt confess their power, And feel the shame of this important hour. "Hadst thou been humble, I had first design'd By care from folly to have freed thy mind; And when a clean foundation had been laid, Our priest, more able, would have lent his aid: But thou art weak, and force must folly guide, And thou art vain, and pain must humble pride: Teachers men honour, learners they allure; But learners teaching, of contempt are sure; Scorn is their certain meed, and smart their only cure !" THOMAS CHATTERTON. S CHATTERTON, the posthumous son of a impostures, which commenced about this time, a the fifteenth century. Thus prepared for carrying on his system of lite- had found it, with several others, in Redcliffe H ric." His favourite studies, however, were heraldry and English antiquities; and one of his chief occupations was in making a collection of old English words from the glossaries of Chaucer and others. During these pursuits, he employed his pen in writing satirical essays, in prose and verse; and, about the same period, gave way to fits of poetical enthusiasm, by wandering about Redcliffe meadows, talking of the productions of Rowley, and sitting up at night to compose poems at the full of the moon. He was always," says Mr. Smith, "extremely fond of walking in the fields; and would sometimes say to me, Come, you and I will take a walk in the meadow. I have got the cleverest thing for you imaginable. It is worth half-acrown merely to have a sight of it, and to hear me read it to you.'" This he would generally do in one particular spot, within view of the church, before which he would sometimes lie down, keeping his eyes fixed upon it in a kind of trance. of ministry at Bristol, not excepting Mr. Catcott, and other of his friends and patrons. His character, also, in other respects, began to develope itself in an unfavourable light; but the assertion that he plunged into profligacy at this period, is contradicted by unexceptionable testimony. The most prominent feature in his conduct was his continued and open avowal of infidelity, and of his intention to commit suicide as soon as life should become burdensome to him. He had also grown thoroughly disgusted with his profession; and purposely, it is supposed, leaving upon his desk a paper, entitled his Last Will, in which he avowed his determination to destroy himself on Easter Sunday, he gladly received his dismissal from Mr. Lambert, into whose hands the document had fallen. He now determined to repair to London; and on being questioned by Mr. Thistlethwayte concerning his plan of life, returned this remarkable answer: “My first attempt," said he, "shall be in the literary way; the promises I have received are sufficient to dispel doubt; but should I, contrary to expec tation, find myself deceived, I will, in that case, turn Methodist preacher. Credulity is as potent a deity as ever, and a new sect may easily be devised. But if that, too, should fail me, my last and final resource is a pistol." Such was the language of one not much beyond seventeen years of age; certainly, as Dr. Aikin observes, not that of a simple, ingenuous youth, "smit with the love of sacred song," a Beattie's minstrel, as some of Chatterton's In 1769, he contributed several papers to the Town and Country Magazine, among which were some extracts from the pretended Rowley, entitled Saxon poems, written in the style of Ossian, and subscribed with Chatterton's usual signature of Dunhelmus Bristoliensis. But his most celebrated attempt at imposture, in this year, was an offer to furnish Horace Walpole with some accounts of a series of eminent painters who had flourished at Bristol, at the same time enclosing two small specimens of the Rowley poems. Mr. Walpole re-admirers have chosen to paint him. turned a very polite reply, requesting further in- At the end of April, he arrived in the metropoformation; and, in answer, was informed of the lis; and, on the 6th of May, writes to his mother circumstances of Chatterton, who hinted a wish that he is in such a settlement as he could desire. that the former would free him from an irksome I get," he adds, "four guineas a month by one profession, and place him in a situation where he magazine; shall engage to write a history of Eng might pursue the natural bias of his genius. In the land, and other pieces, which will more than mean time, however, Gray and Mason having pro- double that sum. Occasional essays for the daily nounced the poems sent to Walpole to be forgeries, papers would more than support me. What a glo the latter, who, nevertheless, could not, as he him- rious prospect!" His engagements, in fact, appear self confesses, help admiring the spirit of poetry to have been numerous and profitable; but we are displayed in them, wrote a cold monitory letter to cautioned, by Dr. Gregory, against giving implicit our author, advising him to apply himself to his credence to every part of Chatterton's letters, profession. Incensed at this, he demanded the im- written at this time, relative to his literary and po mediate return of his manuscripts, which Walpole litical friends in the metropolis. It seems, howenclosed in a blank cover, after his return from a ever, that he had been introduced to Mr. Beckford, visit to Paris, when he found another letter from then lord mayor, and had formed high expectations Chatterton, peremptorily requiring the papers, and of patronage from the opposition party, which he telling Walpole "that he would not have dared to at first espoused; but the death of Beckford, at use him so, had he not been acquainted with the which he is said to have gone almost frantic, and narrowness of his circumstances." Here their the scarcity of money which he found on the opcorrespondence ended, and on these circumstances position side, altered his intentions. He observed alone is the charge founded against Mr. Walpole to a friend, that " he was a poor author, who could of barbarously neglecting, and finally causing the write on both sides;" and it appears that he ac death of, Chatterton. Mr. Walpole, observes Dr. tually did so, as two essays were found after his Gregory, afterward regretted that he had not seen death, one eulogizing, and the other abusing, the this extraordinary youth, and that he did not pay a administration, for rejecting the city remonstrance. more favourable attention to his correspondence; On the latter, addressed to Mr. Beckford, is this but to ascribe to Mr. Walpole's neglect the dread-indorsement: ful catastrophe which happened at the distance of nearly two years after, would be the highest degree of injustice and absurdity. Our author now entered into politics; and, in March, 1770, composed a satirical poem of one thousand three hundred lines, entitled Kew Gardens, in which he abused the Princess-dowager of Wales and Lord Bute, together with the partisans Accepted by Bingley-set for, and thrown out of the in essays... Am glad he is dead by...... £1 11 6 ...£2 2 550 £3 13 6 -nsiderable public importance. "My he says, in a letter to his sister, "is erywhere; and could I humble myself compter, could have had twenty places ; but I must be among the great; state me better than commercial." These pects, about July, appear to have been Houded; and, after a short career of which kept pace with his hopes, he ne had nothing to expect from the pahe great; and, to escape the scene of ation, made an unsuccessful attempt to post of surgeon's-mate to the coast of is less certain to what extent he was yed by the booksellers, than that he lea of dependence upon them insupnd soon fell into such a state of indio be reduced to the want of necessary h was his pride, however, that when, of three days, his landlady invited him he refused the invitation as an insult, er he was not hungry. This is the last ed of his life; a few hours afterward, wed a dose of arsenic, and was found next morning, August the 25th, 1770, d by fragments of numerous manuscripts, appeared to have destroyed. His suiplace in Brook-street, Holborn, and he red, in a shell, in the burying-ground Tane workhouse. This melancholy cais heightened by the fact, that Dr. Fry, t. John's College, Oxford, had just gone to or the purpose of assisting Chatterton, was there informed of his death. ntroversy respecting the authenticity of s attributed to Rowley is now at an end; here are still a few, perhaps, who may Dean Milles and others, against the host , including Gibbon, Johnson, and the two who ascribe the entire authorship to n. The latter have, perhaps, come to a n, which is not likely to be again disz. that however extraordinary it was for m to produce them in the eighteenth cenwas impossible that Rowley could have them in the fifteenth. But, whether on was or was not the author of the poems to Rowley, his transcendent genius must the subject of wonder and admiration. ›gy of his friends, and the opinions of the rsialists respecting him, are certainly too and facility of composition; yet, says Dr. Aikin, there is also much of the commonplace flatness and extravagance, that might be expected from a juvenile writer, whose fertility was greater than his judgment, and who had fed his mind upon stores collected with more avidity than choice. The haste and ardour, with which he pursued his various literary designs, was in accordance with his favourite maxim, "that God had sent his creatures into the world with arms long enough to reach any thing, if they would be at the trouble of extending them." In 1778, a miscellaneous volume of the avowed writings of Chatterton was published; and, in 1803, an edition of his works appeared, in three volumes, octavo, with an account of his life, by Dr. Gregory, from whom we have before quoted. The general character of his productions has been well appreciated by Lord Orford, who, after expatiating upon his quick intuition, his humour, his vein of satire the rapidity with which he seized all the topics of conversation, whether of politics, literature, or fashion, remarks, "Nothing in Chatterton can be separated from Chatterton. His noblest flight, his sweetest strain, his grossest ribaldry, and his most commonplace imitations of the productions of magazines, were all the effervescences of the same ungovernable impulse, which, cameleon-like, imbibed the colours of all it looked on. It was Ossian, or a Saxon monk, or Gray, or Smollett, or Junius; and if it failed most in what it most affected to be, a poet of the fifteenth century, it was because it could not imitate what had not existed." In person, Chatterton is said to have been, like his genius, premature; he had, says his biographer, a manliness and dignity beyond his years, and there was a something about him uncommonly prepos sessing. His most remarkable feature was his eyes, which, though gray, were uncommonly piercing; when he was warmed in argument, or otherwise, they sparkled with fire; and one eye, it is said, was still more remarkable than the other. The character of Chatterton has been sufficiently developed in the course of the preceding memoir; his ruling passion, we have seen, was literary fame; and it is doubtful whether his death was not rather occasioned through fear of losing the reputation he had already acquired, than despair of being able to obtain a future subsistence. This is rendered at least plausible, by the fact of his having received pecuniary assistance from Mr. Hamilton, senior, the proprietor of the Critical Review, not long before his death, with a promise of more; that he was employed by his literary friends, almost to the last hour of his existence; and that he was aware of the suspicions existing that himself and Rowley were the same. Though he neither confessed nor denied this, it was evident that his conduct was influenced by some mystery, known only to himself; he grew wild, abstracted, and incoherent, and a settled gloominess at length took pos |