JOHN TRUMBULL.-RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. FROM "M'FINGAL." When Yankees, skilled in martial rule, Made them give up, like saints complete, * Nor only saw he all that was, No man e'er felt the halter draw, Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 237 Sheridan (1751-1816), son of Thomas Sheridan, the lexicographer and actor, was born in Dublin, and educated at Harrow. The most brilliant dramatic writer of his times, he has given but faint evidences of the poetical gift. As a parliamentary orator he won high distinction. His comedies are the best in the language. Improvident and extravagant in his way of living, he died in great pecuniary humiliation, notwithstanding the admiration he had excited by his powers as a dramatist and orator. HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD FRAMED. FROM "THE DUENNA." Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure you; For though your tongue no promise claimed, To you no soul shall bear deceit, No stranger offer wrong; But friends in all the aged you'll meet, And lovers in the young. For when they learn that you have blessed Another with your heart, They'll bid aspiring passion rest, And act a brother's part. Nor fear to suffer wrong; For friends in all the aged you'll meet, SONG. FROM "THE DUENNA." I ne'er could any lustre see I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, But where my own did hope to sip. Has the maid who seeks my heart Cheeks of rose, untouched by art? I will own the color true, When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure? That heaving bosom sigh for me. St. George Tucker. AMERICAN. Tucker (1752-1827) was born in Bermuda, and educated in Virginia, at William and Mary College. He was the step-father of John Randolph of Roanoke, and was known chiefly as a jurist. DAYS OF MY YOUTH. Days of my youth, ye have glided away; Days of my youth, I wish not your recall; Days of my age, ye will shortly be past; Thomas Chatterton. Chatterton (1752–1770), of whom Wordsworth speaks as "the marvellous boy, the sleepless soul, that perished in his pride," was a native of Bristol, and the son of a school-master, who was also sexton of St. Mary Redcliffe Church, and who died three months before Thomas was born. The lad, when five years old, was placed at school under a Mr. Love, who sent him home as dull and incapable of instruction. At six he taught himself his letters from the illuminated capitals of an old French MS. He learned to read from a black-letter Bible. In 1760 he was admitted into Colston's school, Bristol, where he continued seven years. During that period he composed several of his minor poems. His passion for books was the wonder of all who knew him. In 1767, when fourteen, he was apprenticed to a scrivener. He now set himself to accomplish a series of impositions by pretended discoveries of old manuscripts. He claimed to have come of a family of hereditary sextons of Redcliffe Church, where, in an old chest, these MSS. had been found; and he employed his undeniable and wonderfully precocious genius in manufacturing mock ancient poems, which he ascribed to an old monk of Bristol, whom he called Thomas Rowley, and placed in the times of Lydgate. His impositions duped many of the citizens of Bristol; but Gray, Mason, Sheridan, Gibbon, Johnson, and Bishop Percy pronounced his pretended discoveries to be forgeries. Indeed, a close examination of the diction ought to have made this apparent to any good English scholar. In 1770 the boy of seventeen went up to London to write for bread and fame. At first he received engagements from various booksellers with whom he had before corresponded. His restless brain was full of schemes, and he wrote home, "I am settled, and in such a settlement as I can desire. What a glorious prospect!" His poetry was much of it of a political and satirical character. He took lodgings in a garret in the house of Mrs. Angel, in Holborn. From thence this friendless boy indited letters to his mother and sister, and sent small presents to them, to comfort them with the thought that he was doing well, and to show them his love. He would live on a crust of bread and a dried sheep's-tongue, in order to buy something from his poor earnings to send home. But his poverty at last became extreme, and his pride was as great as his poverty. His sister became insane; and probably there was a taint of insanity in his own organization. The baker's wife refused to supply him with any more bread until he had paid the 38. 6d. already owing. This drove him to his garret in a storm of passion. He made a final attempt to get employment, but it was unavailing. Returning home, he purchased some arsenic. That evening he spent bending over the fire in Mrs. Angel's parlor, muttering poetry to himself, until at last, taking his candle, and having kissed Mrs. Angel, he wished her good-night, and retired to his garret. The following morning his lifeless body was discovered lying on his bed; the floor covered with shreds of papers. "I leave my soul to its Maker," he wrote, "my body to my mother and sister, and my curse to Bristol." Bristol has nevertheless raised a monument to his memory. Campbell says of Chatterton: "Tasso alone can be compared to him as a juvenile prodigy. No English poet ever equalled him at the same age." At the time of his death he was aged seventeen years, nine months, and a few days. The arbitrary orthography, in rude imitation of the ancient, used by Chatterton, being a mere affectation, we dismiss it from our few specimens of his writings. The diction is obviously modern, and there is no longer any reason for retaining what was only designed as a means of supporting an imposture. Archbishop Trench has shown that the whole fabric THOMAS CHATTERTON. of Chatterton's literary fraud could have been blown up by calling attention to his use of the word its. This word did not find its way into the language until two hundred years after the period of Chatterton's monk, Rowley. It occurs only once in our translation of the Scriptures (Levit. xxv. 5), and only three times in Shakspeare. Even Milton, describing Satan, says "His form had not yet lost All her original brightness." Evidently Chatterton was ignorant of these facts, and his use of its is alone sufficient to stamp his pretended antiques as spurious. "The poems of Chatterton," says Sir Walter Scott, "may be divided into two grand classes: those ascribed to Rowley, and those which the bard of Bristol avowed to be his own composition. Of these classes, the former is incalculably superior to the latter in poetical power and diction." Of the Rowley poems the principal are: "The Tragedy of Ella," "The Execution of Sir Charles Bawdin," "Ode to Ella," "The Battle of Hastings," "The Tournament," "A Description of Cannynge's Feast," and one or two dialogues. An animated controversy as to their authenticity sprang up and raged for a long time. Some of the political poems acknowledged by Chatterton show remarkable maturity and freedom of style, and indicate powers akin to those of Swift and Dryden. But his imitations of the antique are superior to all his other attempts. He has been compared to the mocking-bird, whose note of mimicry is sweeter than its natural song. BRISTOW TRAGEDY; OR, THE DEATH OF SIR CHARLES BAWDIN. The feathered songster chanticleer Had wound his bugle-horn, And told the early villager The coming of the morn: King Edward saw the ruddy streaks Of light eclipse the gray; And heard the raven's croaking throat Proclaim the fated day. "Thou'rt right," quoth he; "for, by the God Then with a jug of nappy ale His knights did on him wait; "Go tell the traitor that to-day He leaves this mortal state." Sir Canterlone then bended low, With heart brimful of woe; He journeyed to the castle-gate, And to Sir Charles did go. But when he came, his children twain, With briny tears did wet the floor, "Oh, good Sir Charles!" said Canterlone, "Bad tidings do I bring." 239 |