and ease, the dews of death will soon sit upon thy himself in the following year, being again pro forehead. 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 more unbiassed testimony to the truth, than if I sinner's bed, when the last twig which he grasped were supposed to be bound to it by any ties of obfails him, and the gulf yawns to receive him! ligation 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 which we suffer in the flesh, from the hardness of the journey, are so healed by the balm of the Spirit, that they rather give joy than pain." 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? 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. mer, it was expected that the mastership of the free-school at Nottingham would shortly become vacant. A relation of his family was at that time 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 6007. per annum, Henry tragedy of Euripides. Twice he distinguished declined the offer; because, had he accepted it, 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 com- well as myself, equally affected and astonished at mon act of forbearance in one so situated as to the proofs of industry which they displayed. Some fortune, especially as the hope which he had most of them had been written before his hand was at heart, was that of being enabled to assist his formed, probably before he was thirteen. There family, and in some degree requite the care and were papers upon law, upon electricity, upon anxiety of his father and mother, by making them chemistry, upon the Latin and Greek Languages, comfortable in their declining years. 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, if there was any intention of publishing what he might have left, and if I could be of any assistance 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) illed a box of considerable size. Mr. Coleridge It is not possible to conceive a human being more amiable in all the relations of life. He was the confidential friend and adviser of every mem 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, and religion, by the experience of man, and the more than ever relics possessed. 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 ge. in 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 shire), merely upon perusing his little volume, are to be considered as making up his history. wrote to know how he could serve him; and But the greater number are of such beauty, that there were many friends of literature who were Chatterton is the only youthful poet whom he ready to have afforded him any support which does not leave far behind him. 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 had not been unobserved, nor would they have remained unacknowledged. It was the general observation, that he possessed genius without its eccentricities." Of fervent piety, indeed, his letters, his prayers, and his hymns, will afford ample and interesting proofs. It was in him a living and quickening principle of goodness, which sanctified all his hopes and all his affections; which made him keep watch over his own heart, and enabled him to correct the few symptoms, which it ever displayed, of human imperfection. sense, his prudence, and his piety. And in this I was not deceived: youth and age, the learned and the unlearned, the proud intellect and the humble heart, have derived from these melan. choly relics a pleasure, equal perhaps in degree, though different in kind. In consequence of this general acceptation, the relatives of the Author were often advised and solicited to publish a farther selection, and applications to the same effect were sometimes addressed to me. The wishes, thus privately exHis temper had been irritable in his younger pressed, for a farther selection, having been days; but this he had long since effectually over-seconded by the publishers, the present volume come the marks of youthful confidence, which has been formed. 1 At page 12 will be found the two first stanzas of the following piece, which, having been discovered in MS. since the appearance of the earlier editions of these Poems, is here given as completed by the author: appear in his earliest letters, had also disappeared; With regard to the poetry, having in the first and it was impossible for any man to be more instance exercised my own judgment, I did not tenderly patient of the faults of others, more uni- now think myself justified in rejecting what others formly meek, or more unaffectedly humble. He recommended for insertion.' The poems had been seldom discovered any sportiveness of imagination, though he would very ably and pleasantly rally any one of his friends for any little peculiarity; his conversation was always sober and to the purpose. That which is most remarkable in him, is his uniform good sense, a faculty perhaps less common than genius. There never existed a more dutiful son, a more affectionate brother, a warmer friend, nor a devouter Christian. Of his powers of mind it is superfluous to speak; they were acknowledged wherever they were known. It would be idle, too, to say what hopes were entertained of him, and what he might have accomplished in literature. This volume contains what he has left, immature buds and blossoms shaken from the tree, and green fruit; yet will they evince what the harvest would have been, and secure for him that remembrance upon earth for which he toiled. To a supplementary Volume, the contents of which are included in the present edition. Few books have issued from the press, during the last fifteen years, which have excited such general and unabating interest as the Remains of Henry Kirke White. I hoped, and indeed expected, this with some confidence; in reliance upon something better than the taste or judgment of that many-headed idol, the Public. I trusted, that the genius of the writer, and the purity and beauty of his character, would call forth admiration in young and generous hearts; while a large portion of the community would duly appreciate his good TO THE WIND AT MIDNIGHT. Mine ear hath caught in silent awe Once more I listen; sadly communing I, deeming that the voice of spirits dwells The dead man's Jubilee. Hark! how the spirit knocks,-how loud- It is a boisterous night. I would not, at this moment, be The ear doth shudder at such sounds There have been heard unchristian shrieks, As though the autumnal woods There's mystery in these sounds, and I seen by many friends of the family, and as in this A tablet to Henry's memory, with a medallion case no possible injury could be done to the repu- by Chantrey, has been placed in All-Saints Church, tation of the dead, I willingly deferred to their Cambridge, at the expense of a young American wishes and feelings. That which has pleased one gentleman, Mr. Francis Boott, of Boston. During person may be expected to please others, and the his travels in this country, he visited the grave of productions of an immature mind will be read by one whom he had learnt to love and regret in other minds in the same stage, with which they America; and finding no other memorial of him will be in unison. The lover of poetry, as well than the initials of his name upon the plain stone as the artist and the antiquary, may be allowed which covers his perishable remains, ordered this to have his relics. Even in the relic-worship of monument to be erected. It bears an inscription1 the Romish superstition, what we condemn, is not by Professor Smyth, who, while Henry was living, the natural and becoming sentiment, but the treated him with characteristic kindness, and has abuse which has been made of it, and the follies consigned to posterity this durable expression of and villanies which have been committed in con- his friendship. sequence. It is a mournful thing to consider how much Though as the dew of morning, short thy date, I burn-I burn to share thy glorious fate, This transient world can give! I would resign, For thou hast gain'd the prize of well-tried worth, Could more be ask'd, to whom might more be given? And dismal trains arise Spirits, I pray ye, let them sleep The sear and whispering leaf Keswick, 1822. Lines by Professor Smyth of Cambridge, on a monument, erected by Francis Boott, Esq. an American Gentleman, Warm with fond hope, and learning's sacred flame, Lines and Note by Lord Byron. Unhappy White! (a) while life was in its spring, (a) Henry Kirke White died at Cambridge in October, 1806, in consequence of too much exertion in the pursuit of studies that would have matured a mind which disease and poverty could not impair, and which death itself destroyed rather than subdued. His poems abound in such beauties as must impress the reader with the liveliest regret that so short a period was allotted to talents, which would have dignified even the sacred functions he was destined to assume. } 439 |