Churchman or a Dissenter; and, therefore, occa- that gentleman obliged him to decline the assistsioned a demur as to the propriety of assisting ance of the Society, which he very willingly did him. Just at this time Henry arrived at Cambridge, This being finally arranged, he quitted his emwith an introduction to Mr. Simeon. That gen-ployers in October, 1804. How much he had contleman, being in correspondence with Martyn's ducted himself to their satisfaction, will appear friend in London, expressed displeasure at his by this testimony of Mr. Enfield, to his diligence arrival; but the first interview removed all ob- and uniform worth. "I have great pleasure," jection. Mr. Simeon, from Mr. Dashwood's recom- says this gentleman, "in paying the tribute to mendation, and from what he saw of his prin- his memory, of expressing the knowledge which ciples and talents, promised to procure for him a was afforded me during the period of his consizarship at St. John's, and, with the additional nexion with Mr. Coldham and myself, of his dili aid of a friend, to supply him with 30l. annually. gent application, his ardor for study, and his His brother Neville promised twenty; and his virtuous and amiable disposition. He very soon mother, it was hoped, would be able to allow discovered an unusual aptness in comprehending fifteen or twenty more. With this, it was thought, the routine of business, and great ability and rahe could go through college. If this prospect had not been opened to him, he would probably have turned his thoughts towards the orthodox Dis senters. pidity in the execution of everything which was intrusted to him. His diligence and punctual attention were unremitted, and his services became extremely valuable, a considerable time before he On his return to Nottingham, the Rev.. left us. He seemed to me to have no relish for Robinson of Leicester, and some other friends, ad- the ordinary pleasures and dissipations of young vised him to apply to the Elland Society for assist- men; his mind was perpetually employed, either ance, conceiving that it would be less oppressive in the business of his profession, or in private to his feelings to be dependent on a Society in- study. With his fondness for literature we were stituted for the express purpose of training up such well acquainted, but had no reason to offer any young men as himself (that is, such in circum- check to it, for he never permitted the indulstances and opinions) for the ministry, than on the gence of his literary pursuits to interfere with the bounty of an individual. In consequence of this engagements of business. The difficulty of hearadvice he went to Elland at the next meeting of ing, under which he labored, was distressing to the Society, a stranger there, and without one him in the practice of his profession, and was, I friend among the members. He was examined, think, an inducement, in co-operation with his for several hours, by about five-and-twenty clergy- other inclinations, for his resolving to relinquish men, as to his religious views and sentiments, the law. I can, with truth, assert, that his deterhis theological knowledge, and his classical attain-mination was matter of serious regret to my ments. In the course of the inquiry it appeared partner and myself." that he had published a volume of poems: their I may here add, as at the same time showing questions now began to be very unpleasantly Henry's aspirations after fame and the principles inquisitive concerning the nature of these poems, by which he had learnt to regulate his ambition, and he was assailed by queries from all quarters. that on the cover of one of his commonplace books It was well for Henry that they did not think of he had written these mottoes: ΑΛΛΑ ΓΑΡ ΕΣΤΙΝ ΜΟΥΣΑ ΚΑΙ ΗΜΙΝ. referring to the Monthly Review for authority. My letter to him happened to be in his pocket; he luckily recollected this, and produced it as a testimony in his favor. They did me the honor to say that it was quite sufficient, and pursued this part of their inquiry no farther. Before he MILTON'S Lycidas, 70. left Elland, he was given to understand, that they Under these lines was placed a reference to the were well satisfied with his theological knowledge; following extract (in another page), from Barrow. that they thought his classical proficiency pro- "The Holy Scripture does not teach us to slight digious for his age, and that they had placed him honor; but rather, in its fit order and just meason their books. He returned little pleased with ure, to love and prove it. It directs us not to his journey. His friends had been mistaken: the make a regard thereto our chief principle; not to bounty of an individual calls forth a sense of kind- propound it as our main end of action. It charges ness as well as of dependence; that of a Society us, to bear contentedly the want or loss thereof, has the virtue of charity, perhaps, but it wants as of other temporal goods; yea, in some cases, the grace. He now wrote to Mr. Simeon, stating for conscience-sake, or for God's service (that is, what he had done, and that the beneficence of his for a good incomparably better), it obliges us unknown friends was no longer necessary: but willing to prostitute and sacrifice it, choosing rather to be infamous than impious; in disgrace Mr. Catton, with tears in his eyes, and told him with man, rather than in disfavor with God. It, that he could not go into the hall to be examined. in fine, commands us to seek and embrace it only in subordination, and with final reference to God's honor." Mr. Catton, however, thought his success here of so much importance, that he exhorted him, with all possible earnestness, to hold out the six days Mr. Simeon had advised him to degrade for a of the examination. Strong medicines were given year, and place himself, during that time, under him, to enable him to support it; and he was prosome scholar. He went accordingly to the Rev. nounced the first man of his year. But life was -Grainger, of Winteringham, in Lincolnshire, the price which he was to pay for such honors and there, notwithstanding all the entreaties of as this; and Henry is not the first young man to his friends, pursuing the same unrelenting course whom such honors have proved fatal. He said of study, a second illness was the consequence. to his most intimate friend, almost the last time When he was recovering, he was prevailed upon he saw him, that were he to paint a picture of to relax, to ride on horseback, and to drink wine: Fame crowning a distinguished under-graduate, these latter remedies he could not long afford, after the Senate-house examination, he would reand he would not allow himself time for relaxa- present her as concealing a death's-head under a tion when he did not feel its immediate necessity. mask of beauty. He frequently, at this time, studied fourteen hours a-day the progress which he made in twelve months was indeed astonishing. When he went to Cambridge, he was immediately as much distinguished for his classical knowledge as his genius but the seeds of death were in him, and the place to which he had so long looked on with hope, served unhappily as a hot-house to ripen them.' : When this was over he went to London. London was a new scene of excitement,—and what his mind required was tranquillity and rest. Before he left college, he had become anxious concerning his expenses, fearing that they exceeded his means. Mr. Catton perceived this, and twice called him to his rooms, to assure him of every ne cessary support, and every encouragement, and to give him every hope. This kindness relieved During his first term one of the university- his spirits of a heavy weight, and on his return scholarships became vacant, and Henry, young as he relaxed a little from his studies, but it was only he was in college, and almost self-taught, was ad- a little. I found among his papers the day thus vised, by those who were best able to estimate planned out:-"Rise at half past five. Devohis chance of success, to offer himself as a candi- tions and walk till seven. Chapel and breakfast date for it. He passed the whole time in prepar- till eight. Study and lectures till one. Four and ing himself for this, reading for college subjects a half clear reading. Walk, etc. and dinner, and in bed, in his walks, or, as he says, where, when, Wollaston, and chapel to six. Six to nine, readand how he could, never having a moment to ing-three hours. Nine to ten, devotions. Bed spare, and often going to his tutor without having at ten." read at all. His strength sunk under this, and though he had declared himself a candidate, he was compelled to decline: but this was not the only misfortune. The general college-examination came on! he was utterly unprepared to meet it, and believed that a failure here would have ruined his prospects for ever. He had only about a fortnight to read what other men had been the whole term reading. Once more he exerted himself beyond what his shattered health could bear: the disorder returned; and he went to his tutor, I I I I Among his latest writings are these resolutions: "I will never be in bed after six. will not drink tea out above once a week, excepting on Sundays, unless there appear some good reason for so doing. will never pass a day without reading some portion of the Scriptures. will labor diligently in my mathematical studies, because I half suspect myself of a dislike to them. will walk two hours a day, upon the average of every week. Sit mihi gratia addita ad hæc facienda." 1 During his residence in my family, says Mr. Grainger, his conduct was highly becoming, and suitable to a Christian profession. He was mild and inoffensive, modest, un- About this time, judging by the handwriting, assuming, and affectionate. He attended, with great he wrote down the following admonitory sencheerfulness, a Sunday School which I was endeavoring to establish in the village; and was at considerable pains tences, which, as the paper on which they are in the instruction of the children: and I have repeatedly written is folded into the shape of a very small observed, that he was most pleased, and most editied, with book, it is probable he carried about with him as such of my sermons and addresses to my people as were a manual. most close, plain, and familiar. When we parted, we parted with mutual regret; and by us his name will long be remembered with affection and delight. "1. Death and judgment are near at hand. and ease, the dews of death will soon sit upon thy himself in the following year, being again proforehead. 3. That which seems so sweet and desirable to thee now, will, if yielded to, become bitterness of soul to thee all thy life after. 4. When the waters are come over thy soul, and when, in the midst of much bodily anguish, thou distinguishest the dim shores of Eternity before thee, what wouldest thou not give to be lighter by this one sin? 5. God has long withheld his arm; what if his forbearance be now at an end? Canst thou not contemplate these things with the eyes of death? Art thou not a dying man, dying every day, every hour? nounced first at the great college-examination, and also one of the three best theme-writers between whom the examiners could not decide. The college offered him, at their expense, a private tutor in mathematics during the long vacation; and Mr. Catton, by procuring for him exhibitions to the amount of 661. per annum, enabled him to give up the pecuniary assistance which he had received from Mr. Simeon and other friends. This intention he had expressed in a letter written twelve months before his death. "With regard to my college-expenses (he says), I have the pleasure to inform you, that I shall be obliged, in strict rectitude, to waive the offers of many of my 6. Is it not a fearful thing to shrink from the friends. I shall not even need the sum Mr. Sisummons when it comes?-to turn with horror meon mentioned after the first year; and it is not and despair from the future being? Think what impossible that I may be able to live without any strains of joy and tranquillity fall on the ear of assistance at all. I confess I feel pleasure at the the saint who is just swooning into the arms of thought of this, not through any vain pride of his Redeemer: what fearful shapes, and dreadful independence, but because I shall then give a images of a disturbed conscience, surround the sinner's bed, when the last twig which he grasped fails him, and the gulf yawns to receive him! 7. Oh, my soul, if thou art yet ignorant of the enormity of sin, turn thine eyes to the Man who is bleeding to death on the cross! See how the blood, from his pierced hands, trickles down his arms, and the more copious streams from his feet run on the accursed tree, and stain the grass with purple! Behold his features, though scarcely animated with a few remaining sparks of life, yet how full of love, pity, and tranquillity! A tear is trickling down his cheek, and his lip quivers.He is praying for his murderers! O, my soul! it is thy Redeemer-it is thy God! And this, too, for Sin-for Sin! and wilt thou ever again submit to its yoke? more unbiassed testimony to the truth, than if I were supposed to be bound to it by any ties of obligation or gratitude. I shall always feel as much indebted for intended as for actually afforded assistance; and though I should never think a sense of thankfulness an oppressive burden, yet I shall be happy to evince it, when, in the eyes of the world, the obligation to it has been discharged." Never, perhaps, had any young man, in so short a time, excited such expectations: every university-honor was thought to be within his reach; he was set down as a medallist, and expected to take a senior wrangler's degree: but these expectations were poison to him; they goaded him to fresh exertions when his strength was spent. His situation became truly miserable: to his brother, and to his mother, he wrote always that he had relaxed in his studies, and that he was better; always holding out to them his hopes, and his good fortune; but to the most intimate of his friends (Mr. B. Maddock), his letters told a different tale : 9. And is there real pleasure in sin? Thou to him he complained of dreadful palpitationsknowest there is not. But there is pleasure, pure of nights of sleeplessness and horror, and of spirits and exquisite pleasure, in holiness. The Holy depressed to the very depth of wretchedness, so Ghost can make the paths of religion and virtue, that he went from one acquaintance to another, hard as they seem, and thorny, ways of pleasant- imploring society, even as a starving beggar enness and peace, where, though there be thorns, treats for food. During the course of this sumyet are there also roses; and where all the wounds mer, it was expected that the mastership of the which we suffer in the flesh, from the hardness free-school at Nottingham would shortly become of the journey, are so healed by the balm of the vacant. A relation of his family was at that time Spirit, that they rather give joy than pain." mayor of the town; he suggested to them what The exercise which Henry took was no relaxa- an advantageous situation it would be for Henry, tion he still continued the habit of studying and offered to secure for him the necessary interwhile he walked; and in this manner, while he est. But though the salary and emoluments are was at Cambridge, committed to memory a whole estimated at from 4 to 600l. per annum, Henry tragedy of Euripides. Twice he distinguished declined the offer; because, had he accepted it, 8. Remember that the grace of the Holy Spirit of God is ready to save thee from transgression. It is always at hand: thou canst not sin without wilfully rejecting its aid. it would have frustrated his intentions with re- was present when I opened them, and was, as spect to the ministry. This was certainly no common act of forbearance in one so situated as to fortune, especially as the hope which he had most at heart, was that of being enabled to assist his family, and in some degree requite the care and anxiety of his father and mother, by making them comfortable in their declining years. well as myself, equally affected and astonished at the proofs of industry which they displayed. Some of them had been written before his hand was formed, probably before he was thirteen. There were papers upon law, upon electricity, upon chemistry, upon the Latin and Greek Languages, from their rudiments to the higher branches of The indulgence shown him by his college, in critical study, upon history, chronology, divinity, providing him a tutor during the long vacation, the fathers, etc. Nothing seemed to have escaped was peculiarly unfortunate. His only chance of him. His poems were numerous: among the life was from relaxation, and home was the only earliest was a sonnet addressed to myself, long place where he would have relaxed to any pur- before the little intercourse which had subsisted pose. Before this time he had seemed to be gaining between us had taken place. Little did he think, strength; it failed as the year advanced: he went when it was written, on what occasion it would once more to London to recruit himself,-the fall into my hands. He had begun three tragedies worst place to which he could have gone: the when very young; one was upon Boadicea, anvariety of stimulating objects there hurried and other upon Inez de Castro; the third was a fictiagitated him; and when he returned to college, tious subject. He had planned also a history of he was so completely ill, that no power of medi- Nottingham. There was a letter upon the famous cine could save him. His mind was worn out; Nottingham election, which seemed to have been and it was the opinion of his medical attendants, intended either for the newspapers, or for a that if he had recovered, his intellect would have separate pamphlet. It was written to confute the been affected. His brother Neville was just at absurd stories of the Tree of Liberty, and the this time to have visited him. On his first seizure, Goddess of Reason; with the most minute know. Henry found himself too ill to receive him, and ledge of the circumstances, and a not improper wrote to say so: he added, with that anxious feeling of indignation against so infamous a caltenderness towards the feelings of a most affec- umny: and this came with more weight from tionate family, which always appeared in his him, as his party inclinations seemed to have letters, that he thought himself recovering; but leaned towards the side which he was opposing. his disorder increased so rapidly, that this letter This was his only finished composition in prose. was never sent; it was found in his pocket after Much of his time, latterly, had been devoted to his decease. One of his friends wrote to acquaint the study of Greek prosody: he had begun several Neville with his danger: he hastened down; but poems in Greek, and a translation of the Samson Henry was delirious when he arrived. He knew Agonistes. I have inspected all the existing man. him only for a few moments; the next day, sunk uscripts of Chatterton, and they excited less into a state of stupor; and on Sunday, October wonder than these. 19th, 1806, it pleased God to remove him to a better world, and a higher state of existence. letters to his family have been communicated to me without reserve, and most of those to his friends. They make him his own biographer, and lay open as pure and as excellent a heart as it ever pleased the Almighty to warm into life. Had my knowledge of Henry terminated here, I should have hardly believed that my admiration and regret for him could have besn increased; THE will which I had manifested to serve but I had yet to learn that his moral qualities, Henry, he had accepted as the deed, and had his good sense, and his whole feelings, were as expressed himself upon the subject in terms admirable as his industry and genius. All his which it would have humbled me to read, at any other time than when I was performing the last service to his memory. On his decease, Mr. B. Maddock addressed a letter to me, informing me of the event, as one who had professed an interest in his friend's fortunes. I inquired, in my reply, It is not possible to conceive a human being if there was any intention of publishing what he more amiable in all the relations of life. He was might have left, and if I could be of any assist- the confidential friend and adviser of every memance in the publication: this led to a correspond- ber of his family: this he instinctively became; ence with his excellent brother, and the whole of his papers were consigned into my hands, with as many of his letters as could be collected. These papers (exclusive of the correspondence) filled a box of considerable size. Mr. Coleridge and the thorough good sense of his advice is not less remarkable, than the affection with which it is always communicated. To his mother he is as earnest in beseeching her to be careful of her health, as he is in laboring to convince her that his own complaints were abating: his letters to cumstance of his early death gives a new interest her are always of hopes, of consolation, and of to his memory, and thereby new force to his love. To Neville he writes with the most bro- example. Just at that age when the painter therly intimacy, still, however, in that occasional would have wished to fix his likeness, and the tone of advice which it was his nature to assume, lover of poetry would delight to contemplate not from any arrogance of superiority, but from him,-in the fair morning of his virtues, the full earnestness of pure affection. To his younger spring-blossom of his hopes,-just at that age brother he addresses himself like the tenderest and hath death set the seal of eternity upon him, and wisest parent; and to two sisters, then too young the beautiful hath been made permanent. To for any other communication, he writes to direct the young poets who come after him, Henry will their studies, to inquire into their progress, to en- be what Chatterton was to him; and they will courage and to improve them. Such letters as find in him an example of hopes with regard to these are not for the public; but they to whom worldly fortune, as humble, and as exalted in all they are addressed will lay them to their hearts better things, as are enjoined equally by wisdom like relics, and will find in them a saving virtue, more than ever relics possessed. and religion, by the experience of man, and the word of God: and this example will be as enWith regard to his poems, the criterion for couraging as it is excellent. It has been too much selection was not so plain; undoubtedly many the custom to complain that genius is neglected, have been chosen which he himself would not and to blame the public when the public is not have published; and some few which, had he in fault. They who are thus lamented as the lived to have taken that rank among English victims of genius, have been, in almost every inpoets which would assuredly have been within stance, the victims of their own vices; while his reach, I also should then have rejected among genius has been made, like charity, to cover a his posthumous papers. I have, however, to the multitude of sins, and to excuse that which in best of my judgment, selected none which does reality it aggravates. In this age, and in this not either mark the state of his mind, or its pro- country, whoever deserves encouragement is, gress, or discover evident proofs of what he would sooner or later, sure to receive it. Of this Henry's have been, if it had not been the will of Heaven history is an honorable proof. The particular to remove him so soon. The reader, who feels patronage which he accepted was given as much any admiration for Henry, will take some interest to his piety and religious opinions as to his gein all these Remains, because they are his: he nius: but assistance was offered him from other who shall feel none must have a blind heart, and quarters. Mr. P. Thomson (of Boston, Lincolntherefore a blind understanding. Such poems are to be considered as making up his history. But the greater number are of such beauty, that Chatterton is the only youthful poet whom he does not leave far behind him. shire), merely upon perusing his little volume, wrote to know how he could serve him; and there were many friends of literature who were ready to have afforded him any support which he needed, if he had not been thus provided. In the University he received every encouragement which he merited; and from Mr. Simeon, and his tutor, Mr. Catton, the most fatherly kindness. While he was under Mr. Grainger he wrote very little; and when he went to Cambridge he was advised to stifle his poetical fire, for severer and more important studies; to lay a billet on the "I can venture," says a lady of Cambridge, in embers until he had taken his degree, and then a letter to his brother, "I can venture to say, he might fan it into a flame again. This advice with certainty, there was no member of the Unihe followed so scrupulously, that a few fragments, versity, however high his rank or talents, who written chiefly upon the back of his mathemati- would not have been happy to have availed themcal papers, are all which he produced at the selves of the opportunity of being acquainted University. The greater part, therefore, of these with Mr. Henry Kirke White. I mention this to poems, indeed nearly the whole of them, were introduce a wish which has been expressed to me written before he was nineteen. Wise as the so often by the senior members of the University, advice may have been which had been given him, that I dare not decline the task they have imit is now to be regretted that he adhered to it, posed upon me; it is their hope that Mr. Southey his latter fragments bearing all those marks of will do as much justice to Mr. Henry White's limimprovement which were to be expected from ited wishes, to his unassuming pretensions, and a mind so rapidly and continually progressive. to his rational and fervent piety, as to his various Frequently he expresses a fear that early death acquirements, his polished taste, his poetical fanwould rob him of his fame; yet, short as his life cy, his undeviating principles, and the excellence was, it has been long enough for him to leave of his moral character: and that he will suffer it works worthy of remembrance. The very cir- to be understood, that these inestimable qualities |