with the ancient names of Bristol fastened on his forehead. Master Mayor bore in his hand a golden rod, and a congean squire bare in his hand his helmet, walking by the side of the horse. Then come the aldermen and city brothers mounted on sable horses dight with white trappings and plumes and scarlet caps and chaperons, having thereon sable plumes; after them, the priests and friars, parish, mendicant, and secular, some singing Saint Warburgh's song, others sounding clarions thereto, and others some citrialles. In this manner reaching the bridge, the man with the anlace stood on the first top of a mound raised in the midst of the bridge, then went up the man with the shield, after him the minstrels and clarions; and then, the priests and friars all in white albes, making a most goodly show, the Mayor and Aldermen standing round, they sang to the sound of clarions the song of Saint Baldwyne, which being done, the man on the top threw with great might his anlace into the sea, and the clarions sounded an ancient charge and forloyne. Then they sang again the song of Saint Warburgh, and proceeded up Xt's hill to the cross, where a Latin sermon was preached by Ralph de Blunderville, and with sound of clarion they again went to the bridge and there dined, spending the rest of the day in sports and plays, the friars of Saint Augustine doing the play of "The Knights of Bristol," making a great fire at night on Kinslate hill. The appearance of this quaint description at a moment so opportune excited general curiosity at Bristol, and many inquiries as to its authenticity were made at the office of the journal, and also for the name of the person who furnished the copy. From descriptions given by one of the under clerks, Mr. William Barrett, the wellknown historian of Bristol, was induced to suspect Chatterton, so to the office of his employer that gentleman accordingly went. He found Chatterton overwhelmed with work and decidedly uncommunicative. But Mr. Barrett was unabashed, and after much persuasion elicited the following statement :-"Yes," said the lad, “it is true. I furnished the copy to Mr. Farley, and am indebted to an old chest in a room over the chapel of St. Mary Redcliff, not only for that description, but for many other valuable manuscripts." On being further questioned, he stated that he had inherited them from his father, who, though fortunate in their discovery, apparently did not know their value. Shortly after this interview Mr. Barrett introduced his friend Mr. Catcott to Chatterton, with a view, as he said, to enable the latter to turn his treasures to the best advantage. But Chatterton appeared unwilling to part with his manuscripts, and so the matter ended for a time. It seems to have been a subject of deliberation in the mind of this extraordinary youth whether he should dispose of his treasures outright either to Mr. Barrett or to Mr. Catcott, or whether he would not be wiser to assume the task of editor, and offer them to the world in a collected form. To the latter course he for some time decidedly inclined, until one or other of his literary acquaintances enlightened him as to the certain cost In due course the monotony and probable failure of such a venture. of his uncongenial avocation and the poverty of his situation told heavily upon him; thus, in order to relieve his embarrassments, he finally sold to Mr. Catcott copies in his own hand of some highly curious compositions for a ridiculously small sum of money. The copies of which that gentleman thus became possessed comprised poems and "tragical interludes," supposed to have been written in the fifteenth century by one Thomas Rowley, a priest. 66 Chatterton, who was at this time barely sixteen years old, may be said to have possessed just so much education as he had thought proper to superadd to the scant teaching of a local charity school, of which his late father had been one of the principal teachers. That the learning imparted by this school was of a primitive nature we have on the high authority of Mr. Catcott himself, who, in an early edition of Chatterton's works, states that instruction at St. Augustin's Back was limited to reading, writing, and accounts." But his taste was versatile and his studies various. Whatever he adopted he entered upon with almost unexampled enthusiasm. Before he was twelve years of age he wrote out a catalogue of the books he had read, to the number of seventy, consisting, according to his sister, principally of history and divinity. It was a favourite maxim with him that God had placed man into the world with arms long enough to reach whatever he chooses. As a boy he fell in love, to use the words of his sister, with the illuminated capitals of an old musical manuscript in French, from which he learnt his alphabet. His first reading lessons were from an old black-letter Bible, whence probably arose that taste for ancient writing which he subsequently so strongly developed. That Chatterton was an extraordinary child no one can doubt, and the following circumstance would lead one to suppose that he intuitively felt his future fame. When very young, a manufacturer promised to make Mrs. Chatterton's children a present of some earthenware. On asking the boy what device he would have painted on his, he looked up into the man's face and exclaimed enthusiastically, "Paint me an angel with wings, and a trumpet, to trumpet my name over the world!" He seems to have lacked the charming levity of childhood, and to have possessed the gravity, thoughtfulness, and sadness of maturer life. His school days were passed in contemplation, and his friends were always those of a serious cast of thought. His diet was that of an anchorite; and even to the last day of his life he was a total abstainer. The star of Chatterton's genius began to rise towards the close of 1779. In the intervals of business-during the long hours of night— he gave himself up to laborious composition, and created works of great power and beauty. That he was gifted with a restless energy, which enabled him to override fatigue, is fortunate for his fame. In the brief life which terminated so suddenly he produced an astonishing quantity of verse, the merits of which, if weighed against his years, will bear comparison with the productions of the greatest poets of any age. In order to set Chatterton before the world in his true light, I will endeavour, without reference to those pieces which he attributed to Rowley, Canynge, and others, to examine his own acknowledged productions as nearly as possible in the order in which they were written. Chatterton made his first public appearance at the age of sixteen, when he addressed the following lines to Miss Rumsey, a Bristol beauty, whom he appears to have loyally admired: : Revolving in their destin'd sphere, Ah! think, Maria (e'er in grey So youth and beauty die. Though now the captivated throng And all before you bow; Still violates your name; Strive to confess a flame. Yet when that bloom, and dancing fire, Ag'd, wrinkl'd, and defac'd : Though rapture wantons in your air, Yet still one attribute divine Though numerous swains before you fall; 'Tis all that you require : Maria can be true: Fly to your worthiest lover's arms, With Walpole's mental taste. Chatterton's reverence for poetry was almost equalled by his attachment to heraldry; thus we find him, so to speak, writing with one hand amatory verses to an obdurate beauty, and with the other letters to the editor of a magazine on the subject of Saxon heraldry and dress in medieval times. Having given a specimen of his verse, I may perhaps be excused for offering two specimens of his prose: To the Printer of the TOWN AND COUNTRY MAGAZINE. Bristol, Feb. 4, 1769. SIR,-Being a little curious in antiquities, I have found that the Saxon heralds had these three tinctures, Heofnas, Weal, and Ocyre. Heofnas (that is, in Saxon, heaven), I take to be azure. Weal (that is, strange or foreign), purpure, tenne, or any other colour brought from foreign countries; and Ocyre may be the same with oker, a yellow fossil, and signifies or. If any of your ingenious correspondents (whether heralds or antiquaries) do not approve of my conjectures, I should be glad to know their opinion of the above. I am, Sir, Your humble servant, D. B. The other letter to which I have referred was written a few days later, and addressed also to the Editor of the Town and Country Magazine: 66 SIR,-As you mention that Henry II. introduced the dress called courtmantle, the following copy of a manuscript, written three hundred years ago by one Rowley, a monk, concerning the same dress, may not be unacceptable :1 Brighhike haveinge ymade Seyncte Baldwynnes 2 chapele ynto a house, Kynge Harrie secundus, in his yinge daies was there taughte. Yn the walle of sayde house, was an ymagerie of a Saxonne Ab-thane, crabbatelie ywroughtenne, with a mantille of estate, whyche yinge Harrie enthoghten to bee moke fyner dresse thanne hys. Causeynge the same to be quaintissen' yn elenge selke and broderie, thus came courte dresse from a Brystoe ymagerie." 3 4 5 8 And in another manuscript written by Rowley it is said :Richardus abbatte 10 of Seyncte Augustynes dyd wear a mantelle of scarlette, frenged with bighes " and plated sylver after courte fashyon. D. Chatterton's next composition was of a more ambitious character. Thus in March 1769 he produced "Ethelgar," a Saxon poem, much in the style of the then popular Ossian, a performance which appears to have kindled his imagination and prompted him to attempt its imitation. At the risk of wearying the reader with quotations, I venture to offer some portions of this marvellous composition as examples of the whole. The poem opens with the following words : 'Tis not for thee, O man! to murmur at the will of the Almighty. When the thunders roar, the lightnings shine on the rising waves, and the black clouds sit on the brow of the lofty hill, who then protects the flying deer, swift as a sable cloud, tossed by the whistling winds, leaping over the rolling floods, to gain the hoary wood; whilst the lightnings shine on his chest, and the wind rides over his horns? When the wolf roars; terrible as the voice of the Severn; moving majestic as the nodding forests on the brow of Michelstow; who then commands the sheep to follow the swain, as the beams of light attend upon the morning? Know, O Man! that God suffers not the least member of his work to perish without answering the purpose of their creation. Here follows a description of Oriental fertility, and in equally high-flown language of Ethelgar the glory of Exanceaster :'— ... He sung the works of the Lord; the hollow rocks joined in his devotions; He saw Egwina of the Vale; his soul was astonished. She was tall as the towering elm; stately as a black cloud bursting into thunder; fair as the wrought bowels of the earth; gentle and sweet as the morning breeze; beauteous as the sun; blushing like the Vines of the West; her soul as fair as the azure curtain of heaven. She saw Ethelgar; her soft soul melted as the flying snow before the sun. Their courtship was brief-and The shrine of St. Cuthbert united them. The minutes fled on the golden wings of bliss. Nine horned moons had decked the sky, when Elgar saw the light; he was like a young plant upon the mountain side, . . . . he felt the strength of his fire; and, swift as the lightnings of heaven, pursued the wild boar of the wood. The morn awoke the sun; who, stepping from the mountain's brow, shook his ruddy locks upon the shining dew; Elgar arose from sleep; he seized his sword and spear, and issued to the chase. He "raged" through the wood, and slew a wild boar, when From the thicket a wolf arose hunger made him furious . . . . Elgar darted his spear through his heart. The wolf raged like the voice of many waters, and seizing Elgar by the throat, he sought the regions of the blessed. The wolf died upon his body! Ethelgar and Egwina wept. They wept like the rains of the spring; sorrow sate upon them as the black clouds upon the mountains of death: but the power of God settled their hearts. The golden sun arose to the highest of his power; Ethelgar and Egwina bent their way to the mountain side, like two stars that move through the sky. . . . . They sought the sacred shade, the bleak winds roared over their heads, and the waters ran over their feet. Swift from the dark cloud the lightning came; the skies blushed at the sight. Egwina stood on the brow of the lofty hill, like an oak in the spring; the lightnings danced about her garments, and the blasting flame blackened her face: the shades of death swam before her eyes; and she fell breathless down the black steep rock: the sea received her body, and she rolled down with the roaring water. Ethelgar stood terrible as the mountain of Maindip; the waves of despair harrowed up his soul, as the roaring Severn ploughs the sable sand; . horror sat upon his brow; like a bright star shooting through the sky, he plunged from the lofty brow of the hill, like a tall oak breaking from the roaring wind. Saint Cuthbert appeared in the air. . . . . The saint, arrayed in glory, caught the falling mortal; he bore him to the sandy beach, whilst the sea roared beneath his feet. Ethelgar opened his eyes, like the grey orbs of the morning, folding up the black mantles of the night. Know, O Man! said the member of the blessed, to submit to the will of God; He is terrible as the face of the earth, 1 Exeter. |