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“And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy, the encourager of talent, and try his fortune
Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye. as an author. His favourite maxim was that
Dainties he heeded pot, nor gaude, nor toy,
Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy.

every thing possible was within the reach of Silent when glad; affectionate though siny:

man, and might be acquired by diligence and And now his look was most demurely sad; abstinence; and therefore supposed that it And now lie laughed aloud, yet none knew why. I would be impossible for him to fail, who felt The neighbours stared and sigh’d, yet bless’d the all the consciousness and aspirations of su

lad: Some deem'd him wondrous wise and some be.perior genius, in a place where genius was liev'd him mad.”

patronised and talent encouraged. Previous

ly to his departure he addressed a lecter to llis sister states, as his peculiarities, that the celebrated Horace Walpole, in which he he was indifferent to females, was very proudmade known to him the humbleness o his faand impetuous, remarkably temperate, stu-mily and condition; his taste or elegant studied best towards the full of the moon, and dies; the treasures of ancient poetry in his " would often set up all night and write by possession, and his wish that Mr. Walpole moonlight."

would aid him in emerging from the dullness It was during the 2d year of his appren- and obscurity of the condition in which lie ticeship, (which, by the way, was irksome to was placed. To this letter Walpole replied, his feelings and considered by him as de- after having submitted the specimen of an basing to his character, for he was confined ||cient poetry, sent by Chatterton tv Gray and to the mere drudgery of the office, that he il Mano!, who pronounced it a forgery; and adfirst put into execution that plan of imposture, || vised him, instead or generously giving him as it has been called, which has given him that aid he requested, to confine himselt to such repitation, and which he had previously the duties of his low and laborious professioz, ineditated and arranged. And in Farley's | as affording the most certain means of future Bristol Journal for 1768, there appeared ancase and independence. We shall neither account of the ceremonies emploved on open- justify nor censure Walpole for this indiffeing the old bridge, said to be taken from an rence to the application of a boy who had giancient M.S. The appearance oi this curious ven him so favourable a specimen of the powmemoir at such a period excited great curi-er and singularity of his mind. The odium osity, and it was soon traced to Chatterton, which was cast on the character of this man who to the “ threats of those who treated after the melancholy death of poor Chatterhim as a child, returned nothing but haughti-ton, he attempted to romovo, and to this jusness, and refused to give any account. Buttification we must refer the reader, wiwott a milder usage and fair promises finally in- comment. The short period he spent in Londuced him to confess that he had received | dor partakes more of the wildness of a dream that, and many other MSS. from his father, than of the reality of life. in April 1770, he who had found them in an iron chest, placed quitted Bristol, never to return. We behold by William Camynge, (tbe founder of the him now a youth of 17, without a friend to church) in a monument room, over the north-|| aid or advise him, in the very centre of vice, ern portico of St. Mary Redcliffes." The cu- profligacy and corruption, with no fixt prinriosity and noise the publication of this me-ciples of religion, (for the poor boy had uzmoir produced, brought him acquainted with fortunately imbibed, in the course of his reaone Catcott, a pewterer, and Barrett, a sur-ding, the poisonous doctrines of infidelity,) geon, who was then engaged in writing a his-casting himself on his own centre, and fiattory of Bristol. To these men, his only pa- tering himself with the prospect of attaining trons, who sometimes supplied him with mo-|| distinction and fortune by the unpatronised ney, but to a very limited amount, he produ- and unaided efforts of his own genius. His ced all the poems of Rowley, except the encouragement was not such as his warm “ Ballad of Charitec." In his conversations and fervid imagination had lead him to antiwith Catcott and Barrett his statements, itcipate. He was, indeed, immediately emis said, were contrarlictory, and led to a sus-ployed by the conductors of several Literary picion that he was himself the author of these i journals, to all of which he contributed, but

celebrated poems. About this time, also, he the meagre compensation he received did not .contributed considerably to the Town and correspond with the high hopes of opulence Country Magazine; and in order to rise by and fame he had entertained, and he became the efforts of his genius, and acquire more gloomy and desponding. Notwithstanding powerful and opulent patrons than those with however his poverty, and the numerous occuwhom it had been his destiny to come in pations and pleasures in which he was encontact, in his native city, he determined togaged, he still found time and money to be repair to London, the emporium of taste, and stow on his mother and sister with whom he

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frequently corresponded, and to whom he || came to bed till it was morning and then neoften sent many little presents. In the ver closed his eyes. Chattertou's bed-fellow, last letter he ever wrote to his sister, dated the brother of the woman whose statement July 2011, 1770, he says—"My mother may we have just given,' said, that notwithstandexpect more patterns. I have an universaling his pride and haughtiness, it was imposa quaintance; ny company is courted every sible to help liking him; that he lived chiefly Wiere, and could I humble myself to go into upon a bit of bread, and some water; that he a compuer, could have had 20 places before never slept to his knowledge; that almost now; but i must be among the great; state every morning the floor was covered with müliers suit me better than commercial.” pieces of paper not so big as sixpence, into

A sudden change seems to have taken wbich he had torn what he had been writing place in his mind, or affairs, for this was writ- || before he came to bed. One Mrs. Wolfe, a ten ouly a month before he put a fatal period || barber's wife, who lived within a short distance to his lice. The cause of this melancholy ca- 0: the house in which Chatterton last boardtastrophe has never been, and never will be,lled, stated that his landlady told her that, as fuliy ascertained. By some it has been as she knew he had not eaten any thing for two cribed to disappointed ambition, or a desireer three days, she asked him to dine with her, to seal bis secret with his death; and by oth- on the 24th of August, but lie seeinu vireners, periaps with more truth, to indigence, to|ded at her invitation, which indicated he was the actual want of the necessaries of life. Bein want, said he was not hungry, and soon aftuis however as it nay, on the 25th of August, ter swallowed the arsenic which closed his 1770, ho wuo fuums hond ... bio whuntei, iu consequence of having, the day beforg, swal- | The motive which led to this fatal resolu. lowed arsenic in water. Thus terminated tion it is impossible to ascertain; nor shall we he life of this intellectual phenomenon be offer a conjecture. “His taking such a rash tore he was 18 years of age. He was buried and unjustifiable step,” says a friend of his, is in a sheil in the burying yround of the Shoe “almost as strange as his fathering his poems Jane workhouse at the expense of the public upon Rowley." His death was, like his life, Before his death he liad taken the precaution unaccountable and unfortunate. We shall to destroy all his MSS. as his room, when it not seek to draw his frailties from their dread was broken open, was covered with little abode, but leave them to that judge before scraps of paper.

whom all must ultimately appear. But we Such was the melancholy end of this extra-think the destiny of this poor youth was in01 dinary youth, whose genius, according to deed singularly unfortunate-opposed with Dean Mills, should be preferred to that of indigencestruggling alone against the nuHomer, Virgil, Spencer and Shakespeare. | merous difficulties of life, his haughty and Poor Chatterton-Il-fated and misguided elevated soul, sensibly alive to every species boy-short and miserable was thy life and of indignity and contempt-and conscious wretched its terinination. No hand was of the intellectual superiority he possessedfound charitable enough to tender thee its aid bis miseries while in being, must have been -to guide thee through the thorny paths of truly exquisite-iile dolet vere qui sine leste life, and to save thee from thyself

. When || dolet; but poor boy! death was not the termino more, thousands rushed forward to rescue nation of his wrongs. As soon as the extrathy name from oblivion, and to exalt thy ge-ordinary merit of the poems he had fathered nius to the skies-who, while in being, suffer- upon Rowley was discovered, his character ed thee to starve, and to pass thy short but became a common mark for the shafts of calmelancholy existence in misery and want. umny and detraction. He was called a base

The observations of those with whom he impostor, for merely attempting to make the lived while in London, give an additional in-| world believe the poems which he had himterest to the character of this singular young self composed had been written 300 years man. One female states that, but for his before, by one Rowley, a priest; by others he face, she should never have thought him al was denominated a villain, whose profligacy boy, he was so manly and so much himself-|| was equal to his abilities, and it was even that he never touched meat, and drank only said by one reverend gentleman, that his water, and seemed to live on the air. She death was of little consequence, since he adds that he was good tempered, and agreea- could not long have escaped hanging. And ble, and obliging, but sadly proud and haughty || for what? why, forsooth, we having produced that he used to sit up almost all night rea- some of the finest poems ever written in our ding and writing, and that her brother said | language, and because, for a purpose best he was afraid to lie with him, for to be sure known to hiinself, he did not choose to pubhe was a spirit and never slept, for he never "lish to the world that he was the author, to prevent all doubt and contention about their || that have been recorded by Kliferus and authenticity. But let us enter more particu- Baillet. The description which has been gilarly into the merit of this young man. Theven of his person corresponds with that of circumstance of his having made, not only his mind. it possessed an uncommon dethe world believe in his restoration of the gree of manliness and dignity; and the evipoems of Rowley, but even his own family, denres of youth seemed to give way before 13 an additional evidence of his greatness. that which inspired respect, elicited admiraThere is nothing so difficult as to keep a se- tion, and exalted him almost above his specret from every body; we are social beings, cies. Dr. Gregory states that his most reanu must communicate; the secret of a day markable feature was his eyes, which, though is painful; but Chatterton kept his during his gray, were singularly piercing; and when whole life. He meditated on and formed his warmed in argument, sparkled with fire; and plan before he was 15; it was neither crimi-that of these, one was more remarkable than nal nor odious; yet he never told one human the other, We shall conclude this brief being the secret. He kept it buried in his sketch by some judicious and elegant obserown bosom, at a period too when other boys vations by Lord Oxford, on the general chaare almost afraid of their own shadow.racter of Chatterton's works “ His liie,” he Whv vall we compuie tu this youth? There observes, “ should be compared with the pow. is no analogous example in the history of the ers of his mind, the perfection of his poetry, world. "

No such human being as this boy, his knowledge of the world, which though, in at any period of life. has ever been known, some respects erroneous, spoke quick intui. or possibly ever will be known.”* But let us tion; his humour, his vein ot'satire, and, ante go farther, and consider the poems them- all, the amazing number of books he must selves, the authenticity of which, at that time,' have looked into, though chained down to a though now settled, gave rise to so much al- ; laborious and almost incessant service, and tercation and dispute. Certainly that man, i confined to Bristol, except, at most, for the with all the labour and learning of years, I last 5 months of his life; the rapidity with who could so accurately imitate the style and which he seized all the topics of conversation spirit, and language of Chaucer, as make the then in vogue, whether of politics, literature world believe a poem of his own, was the pro- or fashion, and when added to all this mass duction of that poet, would be considered as of reflection, it is remembered that his youthno ordinary being. But what poet, ancient ful passions were indulged to excess, faith in or modern, could produce an octavo volume, such a prodigy may he well suspended and in which after a long and laborious examina- we should look for some sectret agent behind tion of several years, has not enabled the the curtain, if it were not as difficult to beoldest heads to detect more than six or eight lieve that any man possessed such a vein of casual aid accidental imitations of other wri- genuine poetry would have submitted to lie ters. Those that are admitted to be the concealed while he actuated a puppet, or greatest poets, have, in a much less compass, would have stooped to prostitute his muse to been found guilty of frequent and palpable so many unworthy functions. But nothing imitations. It was this perfect accuracy in in Chatterton can be separated from Chatterthe style and language of the period in which ton. His noblest flights, his sweetest strains, the poems were supposed to have been writ- his grossest ribaldry, and most common place ten, that created the difficulties and doubts imitations of the productions of Magazines, about their authenticity which so much agi- || were all the effervences of the same ungoverntated the literary world. The extraordinary able impulse, which, camelion like, imbibed merit of these poems has been admitted by the colours of all it looked on. It was Osall who have read them; but in the prose and sian, or a Saxon Monk, or Gray, or Smollet, poetical compositions, avowedly his own, he or Junius, and if it failed most in what it manifests the same sublimity of genius and most affected to be, a poet of the 15th centuthe same evidence of extraordinary intellect. rý, it was because it could not imitate what But every thing about this boy was surprising. had not existed." IIe had acquired, before he was 15, by his own efforts, a knowledge of drawing, archi- The legislature of New Hampshire hare tecture, heraldry, music, astronomy, sur-appointed a committee to consider the expegery, &c. and in every thing evinced a matu-diency of establishing a public literary instirity and power of mind that must place him tution, in that state. The following gentleabove all those instances of premature talents men compose the committee-Win. Allen, R.

Vose, G. B. Upham, N. Parker, S. Moody, W.

Pickering, J. Darling, R. H. Ayer, T. Whip. Sir flerbert Croft,

ple, jun. and J. P. Hale.

THE MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE. ject, has failed to sour his character; and his mild. We know no foreigner to whom the United States true, that nothing has been able to change, or in the

ness of disposition is undisturbed: but it is equally are under more obligations than the Marquis de la slightest degree vary his opinions; and his confia Fayette, nor do we know any whose Jeparture from dence that liberty will be triumphant, is as great as our shores was more regretted or who left behind that of a pious man in the life to come. These sen.

ments, so different, so contrary to the selfish calcu. him more grateful and attached friends. His zeallations of the major part of those men who have in our public service and his private virtues alike || played any part in France, may justly appear to

some persons worthy of praise and commisseration: entitle him to this high consideration. Of such a it is so silly, they say, to prefer one's country, and man the people of the United States will always be not to change one's party, when his party is beaten; gratified to hear, when they can hear that he is in short to consider the human race, not like a pack

of cards, that we are obliged to turn to our advan. steadfast to the principles of the revolution. Our tage, but as the sacred object of an absolute devo. readers will bear in mind that the following is from tion. Nevertheless, if we thus incur the reproach an English publication, that hatred of the French is of silliness, may our men of genius soon merit it. patriotisın in England, and that there neither demo- || character as that of M. la Fayette should have ma

It is a very singular circumstance, that such a cratic principle nor democratic men, can expect || mifested itself in the person of one of the first gen“ equal and exact justioc." With thcoo drawbaolo tlemen in Erance: hut we can neishana puce the following article will be read with pleasure.

judge him impartially without knowing him, and seeing his conduct in the light I have here painted

it. It will then be easy to comprehend the various From the London Monthly Magazine. contrasts that arose out of his situation, and his M. De La Farette, having from his youth fought || manner of acting Supporting the more from duty for the American cause, was very early in life pe-than inclination, he involuntarily drew nearer those netrated with the principles of liberty, which form principles of democracy which he was obliged to the basis of the government of the United States. oppose; and it was possible to perceive him lean to. If he committed errors relative to the French revo

wards the friends of the republic, though his rea. lution, they arose entirely from his admiration of son and good sense forbad liim to wish their system the American institutions, and for the hero Washadmitted in France. ington—who guided the steps of his nation in the

Since the departure of M. la Fayette for America, path of independence.

which is now 40 years, it is not possible to mention M. de la Fayette, young, rich, noble, beloved by one action, or one word, that has not kept steadily his country, quitted all these advantages at the age in the same line without his conduct ever having of nineteen, to serve, beyond the seas, this cause of been influenced by the least personal interest. Snc. liberty, the love of which decided the character of || cess would have relieved this manner of existence; bio whole life. Had ne been so dappy as to have

but it demands all the attention of the historian, been born in America bis conduct would have been notwithstanding the circumstances, aud even faults, that of Washington;--the same disinterestedness, |, which serve the enemy as weapons. the same enthusiasm, the same perseverance in Such is the portrait given by Madame de Stael of their opinions and they were alike equally distin- M. de la Fayette, one of the most modest and unasguished as warm friends of humanity and benevo- | suming, as well as most celebrated or men. We lence.

hope, in another number, to give an account of the Had General Washington been placed in the si. I same person by Lady Morgan. It will be interest. tuation of the Marquis de la Fayette, chief of the ing to oppose the judgment of these two celebrated National Guard of Paris, he very probably would women to the absurd stories and miserable calum. not have been able to triumph over circumstances; nies of the general's enemies. It was not sufficient but would have failed in the attempt to preserve for them to attack his reputation, they must also find his vows of fidelity to his king, at the same time fault with his constitution in a physical sense. It is that he wished to establish the liberty of the nation. I well known that Gen. la Fayette is about 60 years It must, however, be acknowledged, that M. de his gaiety and tranquility are unalterable; that all

old; that he enjoys a perfect state of health; that la Fayette is a determined republican; yet none of his pleasures are centered in a domestic life, and the vanities of his class ever entered his

head: pow. that his only passion is to see consolidated the coner, the effect of which is so great in France, had stitutional liberty of his country --He is said to be not the least ascendancy over him; the desire of eighty years of age; overwhelmed with infirmities; pleasing in the drawing room did not at all modity || aflicted with a deafness that prevents his underthe expression of his sentiments; and he sacrificed standing any conversation without the assistance of his fortune to his opinions with the most generous indifference.

a trumpet; bis disposition gloomy and morose; and

to complete the picture, he is clevoured by ambition. In the prison of Olmutz, as at the moment when It is only just that the public should be informed of his credit stood highest, he remained equally un. || these little ruses de guerre, which will doubtless be shaken in his principles. He is a man whose man. renewed each time it becomes a question of adding ner of seeing and acting has always been direct and General la Fayette to the legislative body. It is very consistent, Whoever attentively observed him, natural, that a man of his character and disposition, might previously calculate with certainty upon who has always been constant in his principles and what he would do under all circumstances. His po. || his disinterestedness, should displease those persons litical tenets are similar to those of the United | whom we have so often seen opposed to themselves States; and his face is more English than French. in their opinions, but always faithful to their princiu

The hatred of wbich M. de la Fayette is the ob. ples of arbitrary sway.


dreadful mamer; a torrent of liquid fire rush. Extract of a letter from an officer on board the U. led suddenly from the mountain, and buried it

S. ship Franklin, dated at Palei mo. May 7, to the Editor of the Boston Gazette.

ane hundred feet below its surface. Tbis vol.. " The operations of our squadron consist, canic matter is equally hard with granite; the principally, in visiting the poris of Sicily, and excavations are of course exceedingly limited, the neighbouring States of Italy, and keeping and have never been pursued in any other the ships in the most perfect order.

Now direction, than where the wall was first sunk, and then one of the vessels visits the coast of

that discovered the city. Such was the good Barbary, and the rock of Gibraltar, for intel- fortune however, which directed the discoverligence. We bave now in company the Guerers, that they fell immediately on the theatre; Tiere and Erie. The Spark sailed a few days rich in statues and monoments of art. since for Tunis. I am tired of Palermo, and

" We returned to Naples, in the evening, rejoice that we leave here in a day or two for and where the splendid Theatre of San Carlo Naples. Having lately had a taste of the next awakened our astonishment with its en.

The piece was a pleasures and splendor of that delightful capi- | chantments and vonders. tal, I feel on the tiptoe of youthful expectancy | pantomine dance, called Orlando Furioso from again to renew them. You may possibly | Ar

osto. Had I tracked my imagination, I doubt what those pleasures are-rational (and I could not lave fancied aus thing 80 superbly I was almost about to say, sometbing of sub-| elegant. The delight of myself and my friends limity) I assure you. We spent the 20th ofwas unbounded. To cap the climate of rare April only in the capital or me kuuguun or tea ostanieking sighter the series

staroihle leiwo Sicilies, arriving on Saturday evening, suvius with the night, commenced throwing and sailing on Sunday night. In company without a torrented of lava, reaching half way four officers of the ship, I paid a visit to Pom-down its side; the largest eruption that has peia and Herculaneum; and derived that plea.

taken place for several years. We got on sure and interest which the scene was calcul board at one o'clock, at night; when the ship lated to inspire; in a mind, not totally unac-limmediately weighed, and stood out of the quainted with the history of their foundation. Bay by the light of nature's light-louse, steamInstead of giving you an accurate descriptioning from that mountain, “whose elernal fires of the destraction and resuscitation, in part, of

forever glow.” these once splendid cities, I shall rather express my feelings on beholding temples, pa

ASTRONOMY. Jaces, and other buildings of art, emerging to SOLAR Spots. Spots on the Sun lart ini's light from the ruin and darkness, in which they || year appeared frequent. We have witoessed have been concealed for twenty centuries. I them for more than a month past, and same of The destruction of Gomorrah was not more them seemed exceedingly large. Four were dreadful, or complete than that of unhappy distinctly viewed on the 28th May. They Pompeia. The first shower of pomice, vomi- continued for number of days successive, aod ted by Vesuvius, now forms a stratum of five then disappeared. On the 17th Jone one or six feet above the level of the streets.- larger than any before seen appeared con'To this succeeded the shower of cinders, spicuous on the centre of the sun's disk, and wbich effectually crushed and covered every || seemed to render its rays feeble an obscure, building, and lest not a trace or vestage of the nor unlike those occasioned by a partial eclipse. city above ground; the shower of ashes is from On the 13th it disappeared. The day was fifteen to twenty feet more; you will therefore cold and windy; thermometer standing at 67. comprehend at once the vastness of the labour | On the succeding day two other's entered upon to effect the removal of such a mass of matter, the eastern and advanced towards western covering a town three miles in circumference. limb, until the 19th, when three or less magniYes, this is contemplated, and whole streetstude appeared; thermometer rising to 87,have been opened from one extremily of the From these observations it would seem that wall to the other. Six temples are laid open the weather is effected, if at all, by the situato the eye of the curious; a vast amphitheatre, tion, rather than the number of spots; and theatre, and forem; many are the beautiful that one large spot on the centre of the sun's states and vases daily collected from this disk, has more influence in producing cold than mine of antiquities. It is to be regretted they | various smaller ones scattered upon its sar. do not remain where found, but are conveyed || face. Notwitlistanding, however, the number to the museum at Naples. Although the sub. which has been this year, the season is onusualstance that covers Pompeia is light, yet thely fine; and never, perhaps, did the smiles of quality is such that a century will not suffice | Heaven seem more gracious, cr the beauties for its removal.

Herculaneum was destroyed | of nature “ bloom more lavishly," than at the at the same time—but if possible, in a more" present moment.

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