r. We
do not mean to insult the memory of such a genius as Chatterton by
saying that he required a PATRON--the very sound is linked with a
servility that degrades a noble nature; but we do say he sadly wanted a
FRIEND--some one who could have understood and appreciated his wonderful
intellectual gifts; and whose strength of mind and position in society
would have given power to direct and control the overleaping and
indomitable pride which ultimately destroyed "the Boy." His career
teaches a lesson of such rare value to all who seek distinction in any
sphere of life, that we would have it considered well--as a beacon to
warn from ruin.

"Oh! what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!"

Despite his marvellous talents, his industry, his knowledge, his
magnitude of mind, his glorious imagination, his bold satire, his
independence, his devotional love of his mother and sister--if he had
lived through a long age of prosperity, Chatterton could never have been
trusted, nor esteemed, _from his total want of truth_. His is the most
striking example upon record of the necessity for uprightness in word
and deed. Where a great end is to be achieved--there must be
consistency, a union between noble daring and noble deeds--there must be
Truth! No man has ever deviated from it without losing not only the
respect of the thinking, but even the confidence of the unwise.
Chatterton's earliest idea seems to have been how to deceive; and, were
it possible to laugh at youthful fraud, there would be something
irresistibly ludicrous in the lad bewildering the old pewterer, Burgum.
Imagine the fair-haired rosy boy, the brightness of his extraordinary
eyes increased by the covert mischief which urged him forward--fancy his
presenting himself to Master Burgum, who, dull as his own pewter, had
the ambition, which the cunning youth fostered, of being thought of an
"ancient family"--fancy Chatterton in his poor-school dress presenting
himself to this man, whose business, Chatterton's biographer, Mr. Dix,
tells us, was carried on in the house now occupied by Messrs. Sander,
Bristol Bridge,[2] and informing him that he had made a
discovery--presenting to him various documents, with a parchment
painting of the De Burgham arms, in proof of his royal descent from the
Conqueror.

[Illustration: BRISTOL BRIDGE.]

Mr. Dix assures us, "that never once doubting the validity of the
record, in which his own honors were so dee