Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets, Vol. 1 (of 2)Howitt, William
History
Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Howitt, William
Literary landmarks -- Great Britain; Poets, English -- Homes and haunts
But from the moment that he sets foot in London, what is there
in all biography so heart-breaking to contemplate? With a few borrowed
guineas he sets out. Arrived in this great ocean of human life, where
one living wave rushes past another as unrecognizant as the waves of the
ordinary sea, his heart overflowing with domestic affections, he expends
the few borrowed guineas in presents to his mother and sister, and sends
them with flaming accounts of his prospect of honors for himself, and of
wealth for them. If any one would make himself acquainted with the true
pathetic, let him only read the few letters written home by Chatterton
from Shoreditch and Holborn. He was to get four guineas a month by one
magazine; was to write a history of England, and occasional essays for
the daily papers. "What a glorious prospect!" He was acquainted with all
the geniuses at the Chapter Coffee-house. "No author can be poor who
understands the arts of booksellers; this knowledge I have pretty well
dipped into!" Ah! poor Chatterton, one frog more gone to put himself
under the protection of King Stork! Mr. Wilkes knew him by his writings;
and he was going to visit him, and use his interest to secure the
Trinity House for a Mrs. Ballance. He wrote to all his young men
acquaintances. They were to send him up compositions, and he would have
them inserted in all sorts of periodicals. Songs he was to write for a
doctor in music; and such was the good fortune pouring in, that he could
not help exclaiming, "_Bravo, my boys! up we go!_" One person would give
him a recommendation as traveling companion to the young Duke of
Northumberland, only he spoke nothing but English; another to Sir George
Colebrook, an East India director, for a place of no despicable
description, only he would not go to sea. He was about to wait on the
Duke of Bedford, and had had a most polite interview with Beckford, the
lord-mayor. In short, all, according to his poetic fancy, was going on
most mountingly. "If," wrote he to his sister, "money flowed as fast
upon me as honors, I would give you a portion of £5000."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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