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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e04193c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63327 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63327) diff --git a/old/63327-0.txt b/old/63327-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4fb8445..0000000 --- a/old/63327-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1166 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chatterton, by Ernest Lacy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Chatterton - -Author: Ernest Lacy - -Release Date: September 28, 2020 [EBook #63327] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATTERTON *** - - - - -Produced by Jessica Hope - - - - -CHATTERTON - -Ernest Lacy - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - -Thomas Chatterton, "the marvelous boy" -Henry Burgum, a rich Bristol pewterer -Bertha Burgum, his daughter -Mrs. Angell, keeper of the lodging house -Two Ribalds, man and woman - -SCENE.--A Garret in Brooke Street, London. Casement at back C. opening -on the street; door, L. 3. E.; rough bedstead R. of window; rude chairs -and table, with candle, manuscripts, and writing materials on it, L. C.; -old washstand, on which are a glass, a basin, and a broken jug of water, -R. 2. E. The Garret is in the house of Mrs. Angell, and is the lodging -of the Poet Chatterton. It is the night of August 24th, 1770. Music -on rise of curtain. A distant bell is heard tolling the hour. - -Mrs. Angell. [Knocking from without.] Mr. Chatterton! [Knocking.] -Mr. Chatterton! [Knocking.] Mr. Chatterton! - -Enter Mrs. Angell with lamp. Lights up. - -Mr. Chatterton, a gentleman--[Looking around.] Alack! the boy is out. -[Places lamp on table, and goes back to door.] Come in, sir. - -Enter Burgum and Bertha. - -Mr. Chatterton is not in. Will you wait, Mr.--, Mr.-- - -Burgum. [Pompously.] Mr. de Burgum, Madam. I trust that I shall have -a more honorable title soon;--eh, daughter? - -Bertha. There is no more honorable title, father. - -Burgum. Bah! romantic. - -Mrs. Angell. He surely will return soon: he is seldom out in the -evening. - -Burgum. I'll await his coming. I must see him on a matter connected -with the de Burgum Pedigree, which he was fortunate enough to discover. -I say "fortunate enough," since otherwise some one else would have -discovered it--birth, like murder, will out. - -Mrs. Angell. Pray be seated, sir. [Burgum sits R. of table; Bertha, -L.] - -Burgum. [Looking around the room.] The rewards of poetry, my dear. - -Bertha. The rewards of poetry, father, only poets know. - -Burgum. Another romantic speech! If you must worship a poet, worship -my collateral ancestor, Master John de Bergham, a Cistercian monk, one -of the greatest ornaments of his age--so the Pedigree reads--and a -translator of the Iliad. This boy never can be a poet: he knows no -Latin and Greek. - -Bertha. He is not writing Latin and Greek. - -Burgum. I regret that I permitted you to come. You are a sentimental -girl likely to fall in love with such a vagabond as Chatterton. - -Bertha. Do not call him a vagabond, father: you owe so much to him. - -Burgum. For what? - -Bertha. Your Pedigree. - -Burgum. He has been paid. - -Bertha. Yes--a crown. - -Burgum. Hem! He shall have more after the College of Heralds has -passed upon my claims--not before. - -Bertha. In the meantime he may starve. - -Mrs. Angell. Indeed, lady, he is starving now. - -Burgum. Nonsense! One-half the troubles in life are due to gorging. -Besides, I heard before we left Bristol that he had sent his mother some -china and dress patterns--even British herb-tobacco and a pipe for his -grandmother. Starving?--nonsense! - -Mrs. Angell. That was over a month ago, sir. Then he always was -telling of what he was going to do for his mother; but now he seems so -hopeless, and still he writes so hopefully to her. I do not believe he -has had a morsel of food these two days. He is too proud to take -anything from me. He says he is not hungry, and yet he looks almost -famished. - -Bertha. Poor Chatterton! - -Burgum. Why does he not work? - -Mrs. Angell. He does work, sir--all night sometimes--writing, writing, -writing. - -Burgum. I mean at something profitable--looking up pedigrees, for -instance,--the boy has a genius for pedigrees. - -Mrs. Angell. I believe he is trying to get an appointment as a -surgeon's mate. My husband, good man, offered to secure him a place as -a compter; but Mr. Chatterton stormed about the house. - -Burgum. A poet's gratitude. - -Bertha. A poet's indignation 'gainst a clown. - -Mrs. Angell. My husband is no clown, lady. - -Bertha. I beg your pardon, Madam. - -Burgum. [To Mrs. Angell.] Pay no attention to her: she is as crazy as -Chatterton. - -Bertha. I would I were. - -Burgum. Bah! You are half in love with the beggar already. - -Mrs. Angell. If he had a chance, sir, I think he would make something -great. - -Bertha. I am sure of it! - -Burgum. You never met him. - -Bertha. But I have seen him, and have read his poems. - -Burgum. That doggerel in the "Town and County"? [Taking a paper from -table.] Here is more of it. [Glances at paper.] What's this? -[Reads.] - - "Gods! what would Burgum give to get a name - And snatch his blundering dialect from shame?" - -The ingrate! - - "What would he give to hand his memory down - To time's remotest boundary--a crown. - Would you ask more, his swelling face looks blue; - Futurity he rates at two pounds two." - -Zounds! this of a de Burgum--a descendant of Simon de Seyncte Lyze, a -companion of William the Conqueror! - -Mrs. Angell. Be not angry with him, sir; he is not like one of us. - -Enter Chatterton, who pauses near doorway. - -Burgum. Thank heaven for that! I will not longer brook -The impudence of this ungrateful boy, -Who mutters, rants, and doth himself opine -One of the brooding darlings of the world. -By what right is he moody and revengeful? - -Bertha. He is as nature made him: full of pride -And fierce resentment 'gainst a callous race. -Give him but patience to endure neglect-- -Quell his rebellious spirit, and you take -From his tossed soul God's gift of poesy. - -Chatterton. [Coming forward.] -Lady, were I the poet of my dreams, -Instead of Chatterton, I could not word -My gratitude to you. - -Bertha. 'Tis Chatterton! - -Chatterton. Well, Burgum, what's the news? - -Burgum. [Aside.] Impertinence! - -Mrs. Angell. [To Chatterton.] -Be seated, sir; you must be very tired; -You have not been at home since ten o'clock. -The day-- - -Chatterton. [Sinking upon a chair.] - Clouds, sunshine, rain--I'll sleep to-night. - -Mrs. Angell. Is there not something I can get you, sir? - -Chatterton. Ah, yes: go purchase me another heart; -The world has worn this out--'tis like my shoes. - -Mrs. Angell. When through with business you must dine with us: -I have some sheep tongues I would have you try. - -Chatterton. What use are sheep tongues when I needs must roar? -I'd eat a lion's litter. - -Bertha. [Aside.] O, how strange! - -Mrs. Angell. [Aside.] The boy talks very wildly. - -Chatterton. [Impatiently.] Madam, go! -You'd make a helpless invalid of me. [Exit Mrs. Angell.] -She is a noble woman and a bore. -Now, Norman blood, what's wrong in Bristol that -Brings you to town? - -Burgum. Let us be serious, sir. - -Chatterton. First let me borrow Lord North's goggle eyes, -And have the modish stare: my fiery orb -Disquiets men of birth. Go on, go on. - -Burgum. My pedigree-- - -Chatterton. Should antedate the flood: -I'll read your partner's brother's silly book -On the Noachian Deluge, and report -What I can glean. - -Burgum. [Aside.] Did I not need his help, -I'd cane the rogue. [To him.] I've brought my quarterings -And pedigree that you did kindly trace -To be examined and attested by -The Herald's College. - -Chatterton. [Aside.] George! -He'll find 'tis all a hoax! - -Burgum. They have them now. -I must solicit you to go with me, -And answer certain questions. I'll pay you well. - -Chatterton. Not for the wealth of Soho Square, my lord. -I am the Duke de Garret: they must come -To interview me here. - -Burgum. Impossible! - -Chatterton. Then let them nose among their dusty tomes -To solve the riddles. - -Burgum. [Indignantly.] 'Tis an outrage, sir! -I am a lineal descendant from-- - -Chatterton. [Laughing.] I copied that, and know it all by rote. -Your ancestor, in reign of Henry Sixth, -Obtained a royal patent to transmute -All the inferior metals into gold; -And now, while George the Fat squats on the throne, -You, by that charter, deal in pewter, sir. -From gold to pewter--'tis a fearful fall; -And yet you glory in it. O for shame! - -Burgum. Remember that my daughter's here. - -Chatterton. Forgive me. -If I could aid you, I do vow I would, -But 'tis beyond my power. [Aside.] I do regret, -For her sweet sake, I played the prank. - -Burgum. Well, well; -I fear your going would not further me. - -Chatterton. [Aside.] You'll learn that soon enough. - -Burgum. [Taking coin from purse.] Here is a shilling; -Your landlady asserts you are in need. - -Chatterton. [In anger.] 'Tis false!--a lie. - -Burgum. Well, Bertha, was I right? -And, Chatterton, I'll give you this advice. -You eat too much or too irregular. -A much disordered stomach is a rot -From which young imps, bred like to maggots, rise, -And pester sore the brain. Could I destroy -The miseries by bad digestion blown, -I'd be the benefactor of the age-- -Yea! of all time. The world is gone astray: -Your melancholy bard o'erloads his paunch, -And thinks it is poetic pregnancy. - -Chatterton. Few poets have a chance to overfeed. - -Enter Mrs. Angell. - -Bertha. O father, you are cruel. - -Mrs. Angell. [To Burgum.] Pardon, sir. -There is a gentleman below, who says -He must see you at once. Shall he come up? - -Burgum. No, no: I'll go to him. - -Mrs. Angell. I'll tell him so. -[Exit Mrs. Angell.] - -Burgum. He may bring news about the Pedigree. -[To Bertha.] Wait here; I shall return. [Exit Burgum.] - -Chatterton. [Going to table.] Fair advocate, -For your defence my thanks must be the fee. -You come from Bristol--is my mother well? - -Bertha. I really do not know. - -Chatterton. No, no, of course: -My head is heavy. - -Bertha. O, you do need aid! - -Chatterton. Perhaps; yet more I need another mind -That turns not giddy on this whirling sphere. -But that is naught to any one save me-- -Who cares for Chatterton? - -Bertha. There's one at least: -One who beheld him roam the Bristol streets -Beset by dangers of a forward youth-- -Misunderstood, unhappy; one who knows -All that he must have suffered here from want, -From loneliness, and hopes unrealized; -One who for him will offer up her prayers. - -Chatterton. Have mercy, lady, do not make me weep. -You do not know me: I am harsh indeed. -I have a most unlucky way of raillery, -And when the fit of satire is upon me, -I spare not friend nor foe. Your father's duped. - -Bertha. Why then we shall be happier; so 'tis well. - -Chatterton. Part of this wretchedness that seethes within -Is due to damned, unconquerable pride, -And part from hot imagination flows.-- -My brain's afire. - -Bertha. I pity you the more: -Imaginary woes are real to him -Whom they oppress, and hardest to dispel; -And if you truly do deserve your fate, -Then have you more to bear. - -Chatterton. You came in time; -To-morrow--to-morrow might have been too late. - -Bertha. My father soon will come, and I would ask-- - -Chatterton. My life, and it is yours. - -Bertha. No, not your life; -But that you nobly live. - -Chatterton. I'll try, I'll try. - -Bertha. Give me some token; let it be a verse -In your own hand. - -Chatterton. I have none worthy you. - -Bertha. Have you not one among your papers there? -I know 'tis much to ask. - -Chatterton. No: it is yours. -[Taking up a sheet of paper.] -On melancholy--that will scarcely do. - -Bertha. Read it to me, and I shall be the judge. - -Chatterton. [Reads.] - - When silent are the chambers of the mind - To rippling laughter and to whispering love, - When Hope hath whirred away, a mourning dove, - And bats dart in and out, and moans the wind, - Then Melancholy comes, to night consigned, - And haunts the moonlit windows. Perhaps above, - Not on this earth, can shadowy thoughts that rove - Like troubled ghosts a sweet oblivion find. - - O like some cindered orb that shineth not, - Yet holdeth still its planets as a sun, - Is one burnt out by sorrow and o'erfraught - With that mute anguish of a life undone-- - That sinking of the heart, that deadly thought - That all is lost and would be worthless won. - -[Handing paper to her.] I would that it were better. - -Bertha. 'Tis so sad. - -Chatterton. I wrote it on the midnight of the day -I fell into a new-made grave. - -Bertha. O, sir, -Yield not to gloom; for you are rich in mind. -Of all the boons the Fates propitious grant -I'd choose the golden branch of poesy. - -Chatterton. Each man doth pay a price for what he has. -The very qualities of mind and heart -That make a poet make a sufferer. -The keenness of perception, which unfolds -A realm of beauty hid to other eyes, -Unmasks the world: shows him indifference -Behind the flimsy guise of courtesy, -The shallowness of friendship, the alloy -Of self, debasing charity to trade. -The vividness of his imagination, -Which, in a garret, gives him trees and flowers, -The cool salt sea and heaven's blue expanse, -Enlarges troubles, and creates such fears -He trembles at the possible in life. -The sensibility, which treasures up -Each word or look of kindness as a gem, -Makes bitterer the haughtiness of birth, -The vulgar swelling of a pompous purse, -The slur, the slight, the mockery of fools. -Beyond he sees a spiritual sphere, -Where, by unselfishness, the terrible -Becomes a valued teacher--where the power -To wound through self is lost; yet cannot reach it. -He is a medium through which all things speak: -The human passions wrack his nervous frame; -Each thing in nature makes his heart its pulse. -Who would aspire to wear the laurel crown?-- -It is a crown of thorns! [Sinks back upon chair.] - -Bertha. O you are faint from hunger! - -Chatterton. 'Tis not so: -A giddiness--be not afraid--'t will pass-- [Faints.] - -Bertha. [Going to him and raising his head.] -O Chatterton, look up! He's dead! He's dead! -O world, behold your deed! His eyelids move! - -Chatterton. [Recovering.] -'Tis gone. O I would die to wake like this. - -Bertha. I'll get a glass of water. -[Goes to washstand and brings water back.] - Here, drink this. - -Chatterton. [After drinking.] -I have these spells--they are not serious. - -Bertha. You are not well, you are not well. -[An increasing noise outside is heard.] - -Enter Mrs. Angell in great excitement. - -Mrs. Angell. Fly, Chatterton, fly! fly! - -Chatterton. Have you gone mad? - -Mrs. Angell. Fly! Mr. Burgum swears he'll murder you-- -He is enraged. - -Chatterton. I would fly only one -Who had the power to extend my lease of life: -I am aweary of the premises. - -Mrs. Angell. He's foaming at the mouth. - -Chatterton. Then let him foam. -Each petty wave upon the mighty sea -Foams at its pleasure--why not he? I say -Then let him foam. - -Enter Burgum in a fury. - -Burgum. [Waving his cane.] I'll murder him! - -Bertha. [Interposing.] You shall not harm him, father. - -Mrs. Angell. [To Chatterton.] Come away! - -Chatterton. Nay; he is harmless as a bottled bee: -He can but buzz. - -Bertha. [To Burgum.] What is the matter, sir? - -Burgum. That knave! that knave!--the pedigree is false! -What can you say, you villain? - -Bertha. He is ill. - -Burgum. I care not for his illness, let him speak!-- -You swindler, speak! - -Bertha. You gave him but a crown. - -Burgum. Peace, peace; or I shall drive you from the room. -[To Chatterton.] Now answer me! - -Chatterton. [Rising.] Were it not for your age -And for your daughter whom I do respect, -I'd answer not in words. - -Bertha. O Chatterton! - -Mrs. Angell. O gentlemen, I beg you both forbear. - -Chatterton. [To Bertha.] -Have no fear, lady; did he bear a knife -To stab me here, I would not parry it, -If by such action I should frighten you. -Stand not between. - -Burgum. In King's Bench you shall lodge! - -Chatterton. Then I shall fatten at the town's expense. -Now, look you, Burgum, I'll no more of this, -Unless the lady bid me, so take heed. -This room doth show my poverty and needs, -Yet 'tis my castle, sir! - -Burgum. I am undone; -And Bristol will clap hands upon her sides -And roar with mirth. Why did you dupe me so?-- -'Twas not for money, for 'twas but a crown. - -Chatterton. 'Twas not for money, or you should have paid -A thousand crowns. You will remember, sir, -That when a pupil at the Bluecoat School, -Poor, lonely, friendless, with a thirst for lore, -I came to ask of you the loan of books, -You mocked my poverty, jeered at my verse, -And sneering bade me learn the cobbler's trade. -I knew your passion was for gold and birth; -And gold you had. In bitter sport -I wrote your pedigree, scarce thinking it -Would be received with credence; yet it was. -I should have told you then, but you did swell -And treat me with disdain. I tell you now -That, since you are the father of this girl, -I'd give my life to undo what is done; -Yet, were you not her father, I do swear -I'd give my life to do it o'er again. -I made a fool of gold, for it had made -A fool of me so long. - -Burgum. The whole is false: -My ancestor was not of Norman blood, -And John de Bergham never lived at all. - -Chatterton. He habited a world within a world-- -This globe of fancy, where strange creatures live, -And all the business of existence moves -Unrecked of, as though on some distant orb.-- -Thank heaven! that, being a poet, he dwelt not here. - -Burgum. [Despairingly.] What shall I do? - -Bertha. [To Chatterton.] Can nothing be contrived -By which my father may derision 'scape? - -Chatterton. [To Burgum, after a thoughtful pause.] -You are not known in London; what is done -Will ne'er to Bristol come: you can give out, -Anent the pedigree, 'twas all your joke. -Play your cards slowly, and with that same tact -With which you bargain for your tin and lead; -And, sir, the game is yours. - -Burgum. [Chuckling.] To turn the laugh -Upon the laughers--good--that is the trick. -Come, daughter, come. - -Mrs. Angell. 'Tis dark: I'll go before. -[Exit Mrs. Angell followed by Burgum.] - -Bertha. Good-by. - -Chatterton. O lady, when I said good-by -To my dear mother on the cloudy night -I took the coach for London, I did feel -As though that word were fully charged with grief; -But 'twas not so. - -Bertha. O, sir, do not despair; -And should we never meet again, believe -My thoughts will ever wander back to you. - -Chatterton. We shall not meet again. - -Burgum. [Calling from without.] Come, Bertha. - -Bertha. [To Burgum.] Yes! -[To Chatterton.] Why so? - -Chatterton. If Barrett recommend me strong, -I sail for Africa as surgeon's mate. - -Bertha. Indeed!--but then you will return. - -Chatterton. Perhaps. - -Bertha. I will not say good-by--good-night. - -Chatterton. [Kissing her hand.] Farewell. - -[Chatterton sinks upon chair, his elbows resting on table, his face upon -his hands. Bertha pauses at doorway, looks back pityingly, and then -goes out.] - -Chatterton. [Raising his head.] -Alone, again alone, yet more alone -Than e'er I was before. [After a pause.] The hope is vain. -O there is consolation in the thought -That though a puppet in the hands of fate -A man is born and lives--made now a king, -And now, the sport for mocking enemies, -He has the power when evils hedge him round, -And joy and love and hope have fled for aye, -To laugh! ring down the drop, and end the play. - -Enter Mrs. Angell. - -Mrs. Angell. Here is a letter, sir, that came to-day. -[Hands letter to Chatterton.] - -Chatterton. [To himself.] -This is in Barrett's hand: it seals my doom. -[Opens letter and reads to himself.] -I cannot recommend you for the place -Of surgeon's mate--you know too little physic. -[Tears up letter and throws pieces on floor.] - -Mrs. Angell. Bad news? - -Chatterton. Good news--a warrant for my death. - -Mrs. Angell. How pale you look! but I have that will bring -The color to your cheek. The lady begs -That you accept this as a loan. [Gives a purse to Chatterton.] - -Chatterton. She's kind. -Heaven grant her happiness. [Throwing up purse.] - This yellow god -Distributes favors with a curious hand. -The kings of his creation are so low -Of forehead that their crowns sit on their eyebrows. -They have, for motley fools, wise men--so called -(Not wise enough to live within their age), -Who feed upon the bones their masters throw -Beneath the table. 'Tis the voice of fate, -Exclusion's cruel law, that he who carries -In the clouds his head shall stumble on the earth. -Here, take the trash--I am no pauper yet. [Gives purse to her.] - -Mrs. Angell. [Aside.] The boy is surely crazed. - -Chatterton. There, go at once. -I cannot, with these artificial words, -Show the brain busy, and keep out the thoughts -That knock to be admitted. No more--go! - -Mrs. Angell. [With emotion.] I meant not to offend. - -Chatterton. I am too rude. -I needs must take a tenderer farewell. - -Mrs. Angell. Farewell? Why how you talk! You will not leave? - -Chatterton. I may, perhaps. - -Mrs. Angell. Where are you going, sir? - -Chatterton. To sea; but vex me not at present, please; -And, should my mother come to you, tell her -How hard I worked; but 'twas of no use--no use. -Good-by, dear Mrs. Angell. [Kisses her.] - -Mrs. Angell. I'll leave the lamp. - -Chatterton. No: take it--'tis too brilliant. -[Lights candle and hands lamp to her.] - -Mrs. Angell. You will feel -Much better in the morning. - -Chatterton. Pray I may. - -Mrs. Angell. [Aside.] I'll ask my husband what is best to do. -[Exit Mrs. Angell with lamp. Lights lowered.] - -Chatterton. And should I reach ambition's goal at last-- -My brain would not hold out. Why, even now -I feel rebellion 'gainst the reason strong -And frenzy coming on. No, not that fate-- -Confined within a mad-house! there to sit, -Perchance for years--long years--with vacant stare -And slabber dripping from the fallen lip; -Or with a maniac's eye to see such things -As hell doth not contain; to hear loud shrieks -And clanking chains--O God, not that, not that! -[After a pause.] I'll do it, and to-night. -[Goes to door and locks it. The click of the lock is heard.] - There Hope, stay out: -Come not to me when life is past recall. -[Comes back to table.] -They shall not have the poems which they spurned, -But Rowley shall with Chatterton expire. -[Draws out box from under table, and takes out manuscripts.] -O how these papers plead with me for life! -All my young thoughts and all my early dreams-- -I cannot do it! O I cannot do it! -[Weeping, he lets his head fall upon his arm.] -[After a pause.] Here fools may thrive; and I--why I lack bread. -[Firmly.] It must be thus. -[Tears up papers, and throws pieces fluttering into the air.] -O turn to white-winged gulls, and fly away: -This is no place for you. And now the end. -[Takes a vial from his pocket.] -I feel much calmer. [Looking at vial.] It is better thus: -A bullet tearing through my fevered brain -Seems so abhorrent to me. Yet 'tis sad -To send this ghostly messenger to bid -My troubled heart be still--and then these hands, -These faithful, willing hands that even now -Obey me to the death. -[Coarse laughter of a man and woman far off in the street is heard.] - What noise is that? -[The ribalds come nearer and nearer, singing the following song, with -occasional bursts of mirth. Chatterton goes to window, throws open -casement. The moonlight streams in.] - -Voices. [From street.] - - Say'st thou it is a lawless love - That lusts within mine eye? - Know thou there is no lawless love - Beneath the love-lit sky. - -Female Voice. I'm out of tune; give me another drink. -[Laughter.] - -Both Voices. [Singing.] - - Man maketh law, but Nature, love; - And in the court above - Love's cast for only fickleness-- - But then it is not love. - -[Laughter and singing die away in the distance. Chatterton comes from -window, laughs wildly, and then suddenly checks his mirth.] - -Chatterton. O, what an unction for the closing eye, -And what a chant to fill the parting ear! -[A distant clock again strikes the hour.] -A signal! be it so. [Drinks poison.] The deed is done. -O, my poor mother!--peace, my anguished soul. -Have mercy, heaven, when I cease to be, -And this last act of wretchedness forgive. -[A look of agony passes over his face; he staggers to the bed and sinks -upon his knees; then he rises and speaks deliriously.] -The coach!-- -The coach is coming! I can hear its wheels! -Good-by, my friends; and mother, have no fear: -I shall succeed. I'll write you all from London! - -[Falls in the moonlight upon the pieces of his manuscripts, and dies. -Slow curtain. Curtain rises. Lights up. It is morning. Chatterton is -discovered lying on the floor as before. A discussion among voices is -heard without. Loud knocking.] - -Mrs. Angell. [From without.] Mr. Chatterton! [Knocking.] Mr. -Chatterton! [Knocking.] Mr. Chatterton! - -CURTAIN - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chatterton, by Ernest Lacy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATTERTON *** - -***** This file should be named 63327-0.txt or 63327-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/3/2/63327/ - -Produced by Jessica Hope - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Chatterton - -Author: Ernest Lacy - -Release Date: September 28, 2020 [EBook #63327] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATTERTON *** - - - - -Produced by Jessica Hope - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1>CHATTERTON</h1> - -<div id="authorship"> -<p class="attribution">by</p> -<p class="author">Ernest Lacy</p> -</div> - -<div id="characters"> -<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h2> - -<ul> -<li><span class="character">Thomas Chatterton</span>, "the marvelous boy"</li> -<li><span class="character">Henry Burgum</span>, a rich Bristol pewterer</li> -<li><span class="character">Bertha Burgum</span>, his daughter</li> -<li><span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>, keeper of the lodging house</li> -<li><span class="character">Two Ribalds</span>, man and woman</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p class="title">CHATTERTON.</p> - -<h2 class="scene">SCENE.</h2><p class="setting">—A Garret in Brooke Street, London. Casement at back C. opening -on the street; door, L. 3. E.; rough bedstead R. of window; rude chairs -and table, with candle, manuscripts, and writing materials on it, L. C.; -old washstand, on which are a glass, a basin, and a broken jug of water, -R. 2. E. The Garret is in the house of Mrs. Angell, and is the lodging -of the Poet Chatterton. It is the night of August 24th, 1770. Music -on rise of curtain. A distant bell is heard tolling the hour.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>Knocking from without</i>.] Mr. Chatterton! [<i>Knocking</i>.] -Mr. Chatterton! [<i>Knocking</i>.] Mr. Chatterton!</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span> <i>with lamp. Lights up.</i></p> - -<p>Mr. Chatterton, a gentleman—[<i>Looking around</i>.] Alack! the boy is out. -[<i>Places lamp on table, and goes back to door</i>.] Come in, sir.</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span> <i>and</i> <span class="character">Bertha</span>.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chatterton is not in. Will you wait, Mr.—, Mr.—</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Pompously</i>.] Mr. de Burgum, Madam. I trust that I shall have -a more honorable title soon;—eh, daughter?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. There is no more honorable title, father.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Bah! romantic.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. He surely will return soon: he is seldom out in the -evening.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. I'll await his coming. I must see him on a matter connected -with the de Burgum Pedigree, which he was fortunate enough to discover. -I say "fortunate enough," since otherwise some one else would have -discovered it—birth, like murder, will out.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Pray be seated, sir. [<span class="character">Burgum</span> <i>sits</i> R. <i>of table</i>; -<span class="character">Bertha</span>, L.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Looking around the room</i>.] The rewards of poetry, my dear.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. The rewards of poetry, father, only poets know.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Another romantic speech! If you must worship a poet, worship -my collateral ancestor, Master John de Bergham, a Cistercian monk, one -of the greatest ornaments of his age—so the Pedigree reads—and a -translator of the Iliad. This boy never can be a poet: he knows no -Latin and Greek.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. He is not writing Latin and Greek.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. I regret that I permitted you to come. You are a sentimental -girl likely to fall in love with such a vagabond as Chatterton.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Do not call him a vagabond, father: you owe so much to him.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. For what?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Your Pedigree.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. He has been paid.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Yes—a crown.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Hem! He shall have more after the College of Heralds has -passed upon my claims—not before.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. In the meantime he may starve.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Indeed, lady, he is starving now.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Nonsense! One-half the troubles in life are due to gorging. -Besides, I heard before we left Bristol that he had sent his mother some -china and dress patterns—even British herb-tobacco and a pipe for his -grandmother. Starving?—nonsense!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. That was over a month ago, sir. Then he always was -telling of what he was going to do for his mother; but now he seems so -hopeless, and still he writes so hopefully to her. I do not believe he -has had a morsel of food these two days. He is too proud to take -anything from me. He says he is not hungry, and yet he looks almost -famished.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Poor Chatterton!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Why does he not work?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. He does work, sir—all night sometimes—writing, writing, -writing.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. I mean at something profitable—looking up pedigrees, for -instance,—the boy has a genius for pedigrees.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. I believe he is trying to get an appointment as a -surgeon's mate. My husband, good man, offered to secure him a place as -a compter; but Mr. Chatterton stormed about the house.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. A poet's gratitude.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. A poet's indignation 'gainst a clown.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. My husband is no clown, lady.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I beg your pardon, Madam.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>.] Pay no attention to her: -she is as crazy as Chatterton.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I would I were.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Bah! You are half in love with the beggar already.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. If he had a chance, sir, I think he would make something -great.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I am sure of it!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. You never met him.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. But I have seen him, and have read his poems.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. That doggerel in the "Town and County"? [<i>Taking a paper from -table</i>.] Here is more of it. [<i>Glances at paper</i>.] What's this? -[<i>Reads</i>.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <p class="i1">"Gods! what would Burgum give to get a name<br /> - And snatch his blundering dialect from shame?"</p> -</div> - -<p>The ingrate!</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <p class="i1">"What would he give to hand his memory down<br /> - To time's remotest boundary—a crown.<br /> - Would you ask more, his swelling face looks blue;<br /> - Futurity he rates at two pounds two."</p> -</div> - -<p>Zounds! this of a de Burgum—a descendant of Simon de Seyncte Lyze, a -companion of William the Conqueror!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Be not angry with him, sir; he is not like one of us.</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>, <i>who pauses near doorway</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Thank heaven for that! I will not longer brook<br /> -The impudence of this ungrateful boy,<br /> -Who mutters, rants, and doth himself opine<br /> -One of the brooding darlings of the world.<br /> -By what right is he moody and revengeful?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. He is as nature made him: full of pride<br /> -And fierce resentment 'gainst a callous race.<br /> -Give him but patience to endure neglect—<br /> -Quell his rebellious spirit, and you take<br /> -From his tossed soul God's gift of poesy.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Coming forward</i>.]<br /> -Lady, were I the poet of my dreams,<br /> -Instead of Chatterton, I could not word<br /> -My gratitude to you.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>'Tis Chatterton!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Well, Burgum, what's the news?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] <span class="s12"> </span>Impertinence!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.]<br /> -Be seated, sir; you must be very tired;<br /> -You have not been at home since ten o'clock.<br /> -The day—</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Sinking upon a chair</i>.]<br /> - <span class="s5"> </span>Clouds, sunshine, rain—I'll sleep to-night.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Is there not something I can get you, sir?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Ah, yes: go purchase me another heart;<br /> -The world has worn this out—'tis like my shoes.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. When through with business you must dine with us:<br /> -I have some sheep tongues I would have you try.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. What use are sheep tongues when I needs must roar?<br /> -I'd eat a lion's litter.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] <span class="s2"> </span>O, how strange!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] The boy talks very wildly.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Impatiently</i>.] <span class="s10"> </span>Madam, go!<br /> -You'd make a helpless invalid of me. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>.]<br /> -She is a noble woman and a bore.<br /> -Now, Norman blood, what's wrong in Bristol that<br /> -Brings you to town?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>Let us be serious, sir.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. First let me borrow Lord North's goggle eyes,<br /> -And have the modish stare: my fiery orb<br /> -Disquiets men of birth. Go on, go on.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. My pedigree—</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>Should antedate the flood:<br /> -I'll read your partner's brother's silly book<br /> -On the Noachian Deluge, and report<br /> -What I can glean.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] <span class="s1"> </span>Did I not need his help,<br /> -I'd cane the rogue. [<i>To him</i>.] I've brought my quarterings<br /> -And pedigree that you did kindly trace<br /> -To be examined and attested by<br /> -The Herald's College.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] <span class="s1"> </span>George!<br /> -He'll find 'tis all a hoax!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>They have them now.<br /> -I must solicit you to go with me,<br /> -And answer certain questions. I'll pay you well.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Not for the wealth of Soho Square, my lord.<br /> -I am the Duke de Garret: they must come<br /> -To interview me here.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>Impossible!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Then let them nose among their dusty tomes<br /> -To solve the riddles.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Indignantly</i>.] 'Tis an outrage, sir!<br /> -I am a lineal descendant from—</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Laughing</i>.] I copied that, and know it all by rote.<br /> -Your ancestor, in reign of Henry Sixth,<br /> -Obtained a royal patent to transmute<br /> -All the inferior metals into gold;<br /> -And now, while George the Fat squats on the throne,<br /> -You, by that charter, deal in pewter, sir.<br /> -From gold to pewter—'tis a fearful fall;<br /> -And yet you glory in it. O for shame!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Remember that my daughter's here.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s14"> </span>Forgive me.<br /> -If I could aid you, I do vow I would,<br /> -But 'tis beyond my power. [<i>Aside</i>.] I do regret,<br /> -For her sweet sake, I played the prank.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s13"> </span>Well, well;<br /> -I fear your going would not further me.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] You'll learn that soon enough.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Taking coin from purse</i>.] <span class="s7"> </span>Here is a shilling;<br /> -Your landlady asserts you are in need.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>In anger</i>.] 'Tis false!—a lie.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s14"> </span>Well, Bertha, was I right?<br /> -And, Chatterton, I'll give you this advice.<br /> -You eat too much or too irregular.<br /> -A much disordered stomach is a rot<br /> -From which young imps, bred like to maggots, rise,<br /> -And pester sore the brain. Could I destroy<br /> -The miseries by bad digestion blown,<br /> -I'd be the benefactor of the age—<br /> -Yea! of all time. The world is gone astray:<br /> -Your melancholy bard o'erloads his paunch,<br /> -And thinks it is poetic pregnancy.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Few poets have a chance to overfeed.</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. O father, you are cruel.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>.] <span class="s2"> </span>Pardon, sir.<br /> -There is a gentleman below, who says<br /> -He must see you at once. Shall he come up?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. No, no: I'll go to him.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. <span class="s8"> </span>I'll tell him so.<br/> -[<i>Exit</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. He may bring news about the Pedigree.<br /> -[<i>To</i> <span class="character">Bertha</span>.] Wait here; I shall return. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Going to table</i>.] <span class="s3"> </span>Fair advocate,<br /> -For your defence my thanks must be the fee.<br /> -You come from Bristol—is my mother well?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I really do not know.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s8"> </span>No, no, of course:<br /> -My head is heavy.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>O, you do need aid!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Perhaps; yet more I need another mind<br /> -That turns not giddy on this whirling sphere.<br /> -But that is naught to any one save me—<br /> -Who cares for Chatterton?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s8"> </span>There's one at least:<br /> -One who beheld him roam the Bristol streets<br /> -Beset by dangers of a forward youth—<br /> -Misunderstood, unhappy; one who knows<br /> -All that he must have suffered here from want,<br /> -From loneliness, and hopes unrealized;<br /> -One who for him will offer up her prayers.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Have mercy, lady, do not make me weep.<br /> -You do not know me: I am harsh indeed.<br /> -I have a most unlucky way of raillery,<br /> -And when the fit of satire is upon me,<br /> -I spare not friend nor foe. Your father's duped.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Why then we shall be happier; so 'tis well.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Part of this wretchedness that seethes within<br /> -Is due to damned, unconquerable pride,<br /> -And part from hot imagination flows.—<br /> -My brain's afire.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s4"> </span>I pity you the more:<br /> -Imaginary woes are real to him<br /> -Whom they oppress, and hardest to dispel;<br /> -And if you truly do deserve your fate,<br /> -Then have you more to bear.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s7"> </span>You came in time;<br /> -To-morrow—to-morrow might have been too late.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. My father soon will come, and I would ask—</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. My life, and it is yours.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s12"> </span>No, not your life;<br /> -But that you nobly live.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>I'll try, I'll try.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Give me some token; let it be a verse<br /> -In your own hand.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s3"> </span>I have none worthy you.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Have you not one among your papers there?<br /> -I know 'tis much to ask.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>No: it is yours.<br /> -[<i>Taking up a sheet of paper</i>.]<br /> -On melancholy—that will scarcely do.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Read it to me, and I shall be the judge.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Reads</i>.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <p><span class="level1">When silent are the chambers of the mind</span><br /> - <span class="level2">To rippling laughter and to whispering love,</span><br /> - <span class="level2">When Hope hath whirred away, a mourning dove,</span><br /> - <span class="level1">And bats dart in and out, and moans the wind,</span><br /> - <span class="level1">Then Melancholy comes, to night consigned,</span><br /> - <span class="level2">And haunts the moonlit windows. Perhaps above,</span><br /> - <span class="level2">Not on this earth, can shadowy thoughts that rove</span><br /> - <span class="level1">Like troubled ghosts a sweet oblivion find.</span></p> - - <p><span class="level1">O like some cindered orb that shineth not,</span><br /> - <span class="level2">Yet holdeth still its planets as a sun,</span><br /> - <span class="level1">Is one burnt out by sorrow and o'erfraught</span><br /> - <span class="level2">With that mute anguish of a life undone—</span><br /> - <span class="level1">That sinking of the heart, that deadly thought</span><br /> - <span class="level2">That all is lost and would be worthless won.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>[<i>Handing paper to her</i>.] I would that it were better.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s18"> </span>'Tis so sad.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. I wrote it on the midnight of the day<br /> -I fell into a new-made grave.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s9"> </span>O, sir,<br /> -Yield not to gloom; for you are rich in mind.<br /> -Of all the boons the Fates propitious grant<br /> -I'd choose the golden branch of poesy.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Each man doth pay a price for what he has.<br /> -The very qualities of mind and heart<br /> -That make a poet make a sufferer.<br /> -The keenness of perception, which unfolds<br /> -A realm of beauty hid to other eyes,<br /> -Unmasks the world: shows him indifference<br /> -Behind the flimsy guise of courtesy,<br /> -The shallowness of friendship, the alloy<br /> -Of self, debasing charity to trade.<br /> -The vividness of his imagination,<br /> -Which, in a garret, gives him trees and flowers,<br /> -The cool salt sea and heaven's blue expanse,<br /> -Enlarges troubles, and creates such fears<br /> -He trembles at the possible in life.<br /> -The sensibility, which treasures up<br /> -Each word or look of kindness as a gem,<br /> -Makes bitterer the haughtiness of birth,<br /> -The vulgar swelling of a pompous purse,<br /> -The slur, the slight, the mockery of fools.<br /> -Beyond he sees a spiritual sphere,<br /> -Where, by unselfishness, the terrible<br /> -Becomes a valued teacher—where the power<br /> -To wound through self is lost; yet cannot reach it.<br /> -He is a medium through which all things speak:<br /> -The human passions wrack his nervous frame;<br /> -Each thing in nature makes his heart its pulse.<br /> -Who would aspire to wear the laurel crown?—<br /> -It is a crown of thorns! [<i>Sinks back upon chair</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. O you are faint from hunger!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s11"> </span>'Tis not so:<br /> -A giddiness—be not afraid—'t will pass— [<i>Faints</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>Going to him and raising his head</i>.]<br /> -O Chatterton, look up! He's dead! He's dead!<br /> -O world, behold your deed! His eyelids move!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Recovering</i>.]<br /> -'Tis gone. O I would die to wake like this.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I'll get a glass of water.<br /> -[<i>Goes to washstand and brings water back</i>.]<br /> -<span class="s14"> </span>Here, drink this.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>After drinking</i>.]<br /> -I have these spells—they are not serious.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. You are not well, you are not well.<br /> -[<i>An increasing noise outside is heard</i>.]</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span> <i>in great excitement</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Fly, Chatterton, fly! fly!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s11"> </span>Have you gone mad?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Fly! Mr. Burgum swears he'll murder you—<br /> -He is enraged.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s1"> </span>I would fly only one<br /> -Who had the power to extend my lease of life:<br /> -I am aweary of the premises.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. He's foaming at the mouth.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s12"> </span>Then let him foam.<br /> -Each petty wave upon the mighty sea<br /> -Foams at its pleasure—why not he? I say<br /> -Then let him foam.</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span> <i>in a fury</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Waving his cane</i>.] I'll murder him!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>Interposing</i>.] You shall not harm him, father.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.] <span class="s9"> </span>Come away!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Nay; he is harmless as a bottled bee:<br /> -He can but buzz.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>.] What is the matter, sir?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. That knave! that knave!—the pedigree is false!<br /> -What can you say, you villain?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s10"> </span>He is ill.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. I care not for his illness, let him speak!—<br /> -You swindler, speak!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>You gave him but a crown.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. Peace, peace; or I shall drive you from the room.<br /> -[<i>To</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.] Now answer me!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Rising</i>.] <span class="s6"> </span>Were it not for your age<br /> -And for your daughter whom I do respect,<br /> -I'd answer not in words.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s7"> </span>O Chatterton!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. O gentlemen, I beg you both forbear.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Bertha</span>.]<br /> -Have no fear, lady; did he bear a knife<br /> -To stab me here, I would not parry it,<br /> -If by such action I should frighten you.<br /> -Stand not between.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s5"> </span>In King's Bench you shall lodge!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. Then I shall fatten at the town's expense.<br /> -Now, look you, Burgum, I'll no more of this,<br /> -Unless the lady bid me, so take heed.<br /> -This room doth show my poverty and needs,<br /> -Yet 'tis my castle, sir!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>I am undone;<br /> -And Bristol will clap hands upon her sides<br /> -And roar with mirth. Why did you dupe me so?—<br /> -'Twas not for money, for 'twas but a crown.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. 'Twas not for money, or you should have paid<br /> -A thousand crowns. You will remember, sir,<br /> -That when a pupil at the Bluecoat School,<br /> -Poor, lonely, friendless, with a thirst for lore,<br /> -I came to ask of you the loan of books,<br /> -You mocked my poverty, jeered at my verse,<br /> -And sneering bade me learn the cobbler's trade.<br /> -I knew your passion was for gold and birth;<br /> -And gold you had. In bitter sport<br /> -I wrote your pedigree, scarce thinking it<br /> -Would be received with credence; yet it was.<br /> -I should have told you then, but you did swell<br /> -And treat me with disdain. I tell you now<br /> -That, since you are the father of this girl,<br /> -I'd give my life to undo what is done;<br /> -Yet, were you not her father, I do swear<br /> -I'd give my life to do it o'er again.<br /> -I made a fool of gold, for it had made<br /> -A fool of me so long.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>The whole is false:<br /> -My ancestor was not of Norman blood,<br /> -And John de Bergham never lived at all.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. He habited a world within a world—<br /> -This globe of fancy, where strange creatures live,<br /> -And all the business of existence moves<br /> -Unrecked of, as though on some distant orb.—<br /> -Thank heaven! that, being a poet, he dwelt not here.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Despairingly</i>.] What shall I do?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.] <span class="s7"> </span>Can nothing be contrived<br /> -By which my father may derision 'scape?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>, <i>after a thoughtful pause</i>.]<br /> -You are not known in London; what is done<br /> -Will ne'er to Bristol come: you can give out,<br /> -Anent the pedigree, 'twas all your joke.<br /> -Play your cards slowly, and with that same tact<br /> -With which you bargain for your tin and lead;<br /> -And, sir, the game is yours.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Chuckling</i>.] <span class="s3"> </span>To turn the laugh<br /> -Upon the laughers—good—that is the trick.<br /> -Come, daughter, come.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. <span class="s4"> </span>'Tis dark: I'll go before.<br /> -[<i>Exit</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span> <i>followed by</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Good-by.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s3"> </span>O lady, when I said good-by<br /> -To my dear mother on the cloudy night<br /> -I took the coach for London, I did feel<br /> -As though that word were fully charged with grief;<br /> -But 'twas not so.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. <span class="s4"> </span>O, sir, do not despair;<br /> -And should we never meet again, believe<br /> -My thoughts will ever wander back to you.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. We shall not meet again.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Burgum</span>. [<i>Calling from without</i>.] <span class="s3"> </span>Come, Bertha.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. [<i>To</i> <span class="character">Burgum</span>.] <span class="s14"> </span>Yes!<br /> -[<i>To</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.] Why so?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>If Barrett recommend me strong,<br /> -I sail for Africa as surgeon's mate.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. Indeed!—but then you will return.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s13"> </span>Perhaps.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Bertha</span>. I will not say good-by—good-night.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Kissing her hand</i>.] <span class="s5"> </span>Farewell.</p> - -<div class="directions"> -<p>[<span class="character">Chatterton</span> <i>sinks upon chair, his elbows resting on table, his face upon -his hands</i>. <span class="character">Bertha</span> <i>pauses at doorway, looks back pityingly, and then -goes out</i>.]</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>Raising his head</i>.]<br /> -Alone, again alone, yet more alone<br /> -Than e'er I was before. [<i>After a pause</i>.] The hope is vain.<br /> -O there is consolation in the thought<br /> -That though a puppet in the hands of fate<br /> -A man is born and lives—made now a king,<br /> -And now, the sport for mocking enemies,<br /> -He has the power when evils hedge him round,<br /> -And joy and love and hope have fled for aye,<br /> -To laugh! ring down the drop, and end the play.</p> - -<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Here is a letter, sir, that came to-day.<br /> -[<i>Hands letter to</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. [<i>To himself</i>.]<br /> -This is in Barrett's hand: it seals my doom.<br /> -[<i>Opens letter and reads to himself</i>.]<br /> -I cannot recommend you for the place<br /> -Of surgeon's mate—you know too little physic.<br /> -[<i>Tears up letter and throws pieces on floor</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Bad news?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>Good news—a warrant for my death.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. How pale you look! but I have that will bring<br /> -The color to your cheek. The lady begs<br /> -That you accept this as a loan. [<i>Gives a purse to</i> <span class="character">Chatterton</span>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s7"> </span>She's kind.<br /> -Heaven grant her happiness. [<i>Throwing up purse</i>.]<br /> -<span class="s12"> </span>This yellow god<br /> -Distributes favors with a curious hand.<br /> -The kings of his creation are so low<br /> -Of forehead that their crowns sit on their eyebrows.<br /> -They have, for motley fools, wise men—so called<br /> -(Not wise enough to live within their age),<br /> -Who feed upon the bones their masters throw<br /> -Beneath the table. 'Tis the voice of fate,<br /> -Exclusion's cruel law, that he who carries<br /> -In the clouds his head shall stumble on the earth.<br /> -Here, take the trash—I am no pauper yet. [<i>Gives purse to her</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] The boy is surely crazed.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s15"> </span>There, go at once.<br /> -I cannot, with these artificial words,<br /> -Show the brain busy, and keep out the thoughts<br /> -That knock to be admitted. No more—go!</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>With emotion</i>.] I meant not to offend.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s17"> </span>I am too rude.<br /> -I needs must take a tenderer farewell.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. Farewell? Why how you talk! You will not leave?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. I may, perhaps.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. <span class="s7"> </span>Where are you going, sir?</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. To sea; but vex me not at present, please;<br /> -And, should my mother come to you, tell her<br /> -How hard I worked; but 'twas of no use—no use.<br /> -Good-by, dear Mrs. Angell. [<i>Kisses her</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. <span class="s6"> </span>I'll leave the lamp.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. No: take it—'tis too brilliant.<br /> -[<i>Lights candle and hands lamp to her</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. <span class="s12"> </span>You will feel<br /> -Much better in the morning.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. <span class="s7"> </span>Pray I may.</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>Aside</i>.] I'll ask my husband what is best to do.<br /> -[<i>Exit</i> <span class="character">Mrs. Angell</span> <i>with lamp. Lights lowered</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. And should I reach ambition's goal at last—<br /> -My brain would not hold out. Why, even now<br /> -I feel rebellion 'gainst the reason strong<br /> -And frenzy coming on. No, not that fate—<br /> -Confined within a mad-house! there to sit,<br /> -Perchance for years—long years—with vacant stare<br /> -And slabber dripping from the fallen lip;<br /> -Or with a maniac's eye to see such things<br /> -As hell doth not contain; to hear loud shrieks<br /> -And clanking chains—O God, not that, not that!<br /> -[<i>After a pause</i>.] I'll do it, and to-night.<br /> -[<i>Goes to door and locks it. The click of the lock is heard</i>.]<br /> -<span class="s16"> </span>There Hope, stay out:<br /> -Come not to me when life is past recall.<br /> -[<i>Comes back to table</i>.]<br /> -They shall not have the poems which they spurned,<br /> -But Rowley shall with Chatterton expire.<br /> -[<i>Draws out box from under table, and takes out manuscripts</i>.]<br /> -O how these papers plead with me for life!<br /> -All my young thoughts and all my early dreams—<br /> -I cannot do it! O I cannot do it!<br /> -[<i>Weeping, he lets his head fall upon his arm</i>.]<br /> -[<i>After a pause</i>.] Here fools may thrive; and I—why I lack bread.<br /> -[<i>Firmly</i>.] It must be thus.<br /> -[<i>Tears up papers, and throws pieces fluttering into the air</i>.]<br /> -O turn to white-winged gulls, and fly away:<br /> -This is no place for you. And now the end.<br /> -[<i>Takes a vial from his pocket</i>.]<br /> -I feel much calmer. [<i>Looking at vial</i>.] It is better thus:<br /> -A bullet tearing through my fevered brain<br /> -Seems so abhorrent to me. Yet 'tis sad<br /> -To send this ghostly messenger to bid<br /> -My troubled heart be still—and then these hands,<br /> -These faithful, willing hands that even now<br /> -Obey me to the death.<br /> -[<i>Coarse laughter of a man and woman far off in the street is heard</i>.]<br /> -<span class="s9"> </span>What noise is that?<br /> -[<i>The</i> <span class="character">ribalds</span> <i>come nearer and nearer, singing the following song, with occasional bursts of mirth</i>. -<span class="character">Chatterton</span> <i>goes to window, throws open -casement. The moonlight streams in</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Voices</span>. [<i>From street</i>.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <p><span class="level1">Say'st thou it is a lawless love</span><br /> - <span class="level2">That lusts within mine eye?</span><br /> - <span class="level1">Know thou there is no lawless love</span><br /> - <span class="level2">Beneath the love-lit sky.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="speaker">Female Voice</span>. I'm out of tune; give me another drink.<br /> -[<i>Laughter</i>.]</p> - -<p><span class="speaker">Both Voices</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <p><span class="level1">Man maketh law, but Nature, love;</span><br /> - <span class="level2">And in the court above</span><br /> - <span class="level1">Love's cast for only fickleness—</span><br /> - <span class="level2">But then it is not love.</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="directions"> -<p>[<i>Laughter and singing die away in the distance</i>. <span class="character">Chatterton</span> <i>comes from -window, laughs wildly, and then suddenly checks his mirth</i>.]</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="speaker">Chatterton</span>. O, what an unction for the closing eye,<br /> -And what a chant to fill the parting ear!<br /> -[<i>A distant clock again strikes the hour</i>.]<br /> -A signal! be it so. [<i>Drinks poison</i>.] The deed is done.<br /> -O, my poor mother!—peace, my anguished soul.<br /> -Have mercy, heaven, when I cease to be,<br /> -And this last act of wretchedness forgive.<br /> -[<i>A look of agony passes over his face; he staggers to the bed and sinks upon his knees; then he rises and speaks deliriously</i>.]<br /> -The coach!—<br /> -The coach is coming! I can hear its wheels!<br /> -Good-by, my friends; and mother, have no fear:<br /> -I shall succeed. I'll write you all from London!</p> - -<div class="directions"> -<p>[<i>Falls in the moonlight upon the pieces of his manuscripts, and dies. -Slow curtain. Curtain rises. Lights up. It is morning</i>. <span class="character">Chatterton</span> <i>is -discovered lying on the floor as before. A discussion among voices is -heard without. Loud knocking</i>.]</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="speaker">Mrs. Angell</span>. [<i>From without</i>.] Mr. Chatterton! [<i>Knocking</i>.] Mr. -Chatterton! [<i>Knocking</i>.] Mr. Chatterton!</p> - -<p class="curtain">CURTAIN.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chatterton, by Ernest Lacy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATTERTON *** - -***** This file should be named 63327-h.htm or 63327-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/3/2/63327/ - -Produced by Jessica Hope - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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