The complete works of Henry Kirke White ...

I

vV -^cJ-

/. » -7:

^OO^

V,

A <^n

V

0^ xOo.

:1:

KS^

'^-n account o^

V^

/y

Ji OS T-0\

THK

OF NOTTINGHAM,

LATE OF ST, JOHN's COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

WITH

AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE.

BY ROBERT POUTHEY, LL. D.

No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep, But living Statues there are seen to weep, Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb, Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.

Byron.

FEOM THE LAST LONDON EDITION

S7l

Printed by J H. A. Frost, Boston

Uxiiv. of ;&*ntucky JAN 2 9 1941

Of

ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE

HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

It fell to my lot to publish, with the assistance of my friend Mr. Cottle, the first collected edition of the works of Chatterton, in whose history I felt a more than ordinary interest, as being a native of the same city, familiar from my childhood with those great objects of art and nature by which he had been so deeply impressed, and devoted from my childhood with the same ardor to the same pursuits. It is now my fortune to lay before the world some account of one whose early death is not less to be lamented as a loss to English literature, and whose virtues were as admirable as his genius. In the present instance there is nothing to be recorded but what is honorable to himself, and to the age in which he lived ; little to be regretted, but that one so ripe for heaven should so soon have been removed from the world.

Henry Kirke White, the second son of John and Mary White, was born in Nottingham, March 21st, 1785. His father is a butcher ; his mother, whose maiden name was Neville, is of a respectable Staffordshire family.

From the years of three till five, Henry learned to read at the school of Mrs. Garrington ; whose name, unimportant as it may appear, is mentioned, because she had the good sense to perceive his extraordinary capacity, and spoke of what it promised with confidence. She was an excellent woman, and he describes her with affection in his poem upon Childhood. At a very early age his love of reading was decidedly manifested ; it was a passion to which everything else gave way. ' I could fancy,' said his eldest sister, ' I see him in his little chair, with a large book upon his knee, and my mother calling, " Henry, my love, come to dinner," which was repeated so often without being regarded, that she was obliged to change the tone of her voice before she could rouse him.' When he was about seven, he would creep unperceived into the kitchen, to teach the servant to read and write ; and he continued this for sometime before it was discovered that he had been thus laudably employed. He wrote a tale of a Swiss emigrant, which was probably his first composition, and gave it to this servant, being ashamed to show it to his mother. The consciousness of genius is always at first accompanied with this diffidence ; it is a sacred solitary feeling. No forward child, however extraordinary the promise of his childhood, ever produced anything truly great.

When Henry was about six, he was placed under the Rev. John Blanchard, who kept, at that tim.e, the best school in Nottingham. Here he learned writing, arithmetic, and French. When he was about eleven, he one day wrote a separate theme for every boy in his class, which consisted of about twelve or fourteen. The master said he had never known them write so well upon any subject before, and could not refrain from expressing his astonishment at the excellence of Henry's. It was considered a great thing for him to be at so good a school, yet there was some circumstances which rendered it less advantageous to him than it might have been. Mrs. White had not yet overcome her husband's intention of breeding him up to his own business, and by an arrangement which took up too much of his time, and would have crushed his spirit, if that ' mounting spirit ' could have been crushed, one whole day in the week, and his leisure hours on the others, were employed in carrying the butcher's basket. Some differences at length arose between" his father and Mr. Blanchard, in consequence of which Henry was removed.

HENRY KIRKE WHITE. B

One of the ushers, when he came to receive the money due for tuition, took the opportunity of informing- Mrs. White what an incorrig-ible son she had, and that it was impossible to make the lad do anything. This information made his friends very uneasy ; they were dispirited about him ; and had they relied wholly upon this report, the stupidity or malice of this man would have blasted Henry's progress forever. He was, however, placed under the care of Mr. Shipley, who soon discovered that he was a boy of quick perception, and very admirable talents ; and came with joy, like a good man, to relieve the anxiety and painful suspicions of hia family.

While his school-masters were complaining that they could make nothing of him, he discovered what Nature had made him, and wrote satires upon them. These pieces were never shown to any, except his most particular friends, who say that they were pointed and severe. They are enumerated in the table of contents to one of his manuscript volumes, under the title of School-Lampoons ; but, as was to be expected, he had cut the leaves out and destroyed them.

One of his poems, written at this time, and under these feelings, is preserved.

ON BEING CONFINED TO SCHOOL

ONE PLEASANT MORNING IN SPRING.

Written at the age of thirteen.

The morning sun's enchanting rays Now call forth every songster's praise ; Now the lark, with upward flight, Gaily ushers in the light ; While wildly warbling from each tree, The birds sing songs to Liberty.

But for me no songster sings, For me no joyous lark upsprings ; For I, confined in gloomy school, Must own the pedant's iron rule,

1*

A b HENRY EIRKE WHITE.

And, far from sylvan shades and bowers, In durance vile must pass the hours ; There con the scholiast's dreary lines, Where no bright ray of genius shines, And close to rugged learning cling.

While laughs around the jocund Spring.

How gladly would my soul forego All that arithmeticians know.

Or stiff grammarians quaintly teach, Or all that industry can reach, To taste each morn of all the joys That with the laughing sun arise ; And unconstrained to rove along The bushy brakes and glens among ; And woo the Muse's gentle power.

In unfrequented rural bower !

But, ah ! such heaven-approaching joys Will never greet my longing eyes ; Still will they cheat in vision fine, Yet never but in fancy shine.

Oh, that I were the little wren That shrilly chirps from yonder glen ! Oh, far away I then would rove.

To some secluded bushy grove ; There hop and sing with careless glee, Hop and sing at liberty ; And till death should stop my lays.

Far from men would spend my days.

About this time his mother was induced, by the advice of several friends, to open a Ladies' Boarding and Day School in Nottingham, her eldest daughter having previously been a teacher in one for some time. In this she succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations ; and Henry's home comforts were thus materially increased, though it was still out of the power of his family to give him that education, and direction in life, v/hich his talents deserved and required.

It was now determined to breed him up to the hosiery trade, the- staple manufacture of his native place ; and at the age of fourteen he was placed in a stocking-loom.

with the view, at some future period, of getting a situation in a hosier's warehouse. During the time that he was thus employed, he might be said to be truly unhappy ; he went to his work with evident reluctance, and could not refrain from sometimes hinting his extreme aversion to it : but the circumstances of his family obliged them to turn a deaf ear.* His mother, however, secretly felt that he was worthy of better things : to her he spoke more openly : he could not bear, he said, the thought of spending seven years of his life in shining and folding up stockings : he wanted something to occupy his brain, and he should be wretched if he continued longer at this trade, or indeed in anything except one of the learned

*His temper and tone of mind at this period, when he was in his fourteenth year, are displayed in this extract from an Address to Contemplation.

Thee do I own, the prompter of my joys,

The soother of my cares, inspiring peace ;

And I will ne'er forsake thee. — Men may rave,

And blame and censure me, that I don't tie

My ev'ry thought down to the desk, and spend

The morning of my life in adding figures

With accurate monotony ; that so

The good things of the world may be my lot,

And I might taste the blessedness of wealth :

But, oh ! 1 was not made for money-getting ,

For me no much-respected plum awaits.

Nor civic honor, envied — For as still

I tried to cast with school dexterity

The interesting sums, my vagrant thoughts

Would quick revert to many a woodland haunt,

Which fond remembrance cherish'd, and the pen

Dropp'd from my senseless fingers as I pictured,

In my mind's eye, how on the shores of Trent

I erewhile wander'd with my early friends

In social intercourse. And then I'd think

How contrary pursuits had thrown us wide,

One from the other, scatter'd o'er the globe ,

They were set down with sober steadiness.

Each to his occupation. 1 alone,

A wayward youth, misled by Fancy's vagaries,

With every wind to ev'ry point o' th' compass.

Yes, in the counting-house I could indulge

In fits of close abstraction ; yea, amid

The busy bustling crowds could meditate,

And send my thoughts ten thousand leagues away b HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

professions. These frequent complaints, after a year's application, or rather misapplication, (as his brother says,) at the loom, convinced her that he had a mind destined for nobler pursuits. To one so situated, and with nothing but his own talents and exertions to depend upon, the law seemed to be the only practicable line. His affectionate and excellent mother made every possible effort to effect his wishes, his father being very averse to the plan, and at length, after overcoming . variety of obstacles, he was fixed in the office of Messrs. Coldham and Enfield, attorneys and town-clerks of Nottingham. As no premium could be given with him, he was engaged to serve two years before he was articled, so that though he entered this office when he was fifteen, he was not articled till the commencement of the year 1802.

Beyond the Atlantic, resting on my friend. Ay, Contemplation, even in earliest youth I woo'd thy heavenly influence ! I would walk A weary way when all my toils were done. To lay myself at niglit in some lone wood, And hear the sweet song of the nightingale. Oh, those were times of happiness, and still To memory doubly dear ; for growing years Had not then taught me man was made to mourn ; And a short hour of solitary pleasure, Stolen from sleep, was ample recompense For all the hateful bustles of the day. My opening mind was ductile then, and plastic. And soon the marks of care were worn away, While I was swayed by every novel impulse^ Yielding to all the fancies of the hour. But it has nSw assumed its character ; Mark'd by strong lineaments, its haughty tone, Like the firm oak, would sooner break than bend Yet still, oh, Contemplation ! I do love To indulge thy solenm musings ; still the same With thee alone I know to melt and weep. In thee alone delighting. Why along The dusky tract of commerce should I toil, When, with an easy competence content, I can alone be happy ; where with thee I may enjoy the loveliness of Nature, And loose the wings of Fancy ? — Thus 'alone 'Can I partake of happiness on earth ; And to be happy here is man's chief end, For to be happy he must needs be good.

HENRY KIRKE WHITE. B

On his thus entering the law, it was recommended to him by his employers, that he should endeavour to obtain some knowledge of Latin. He had now only the little time which an attorney's office, in very extensive practice, afforded ; but great things may be done in ' those hours of leisure which even the busiest may create,'* and to his ardent mind no obstacles were too discouraging. He received some instruction in the first rudiments of this language, from a person who then resided at Nottingham under a feigned nijOne, but was soon obliged to leave it, to elude the search of government, who were then seeking to secure him. Henry discovered him to be Mr. Cormick, from a print affixed to a continuation of Hume and SmoUet, and published, with their histories, by Cooke. He is, I believe, the same person who wrote a life of Burke. If he received any other assistance, it was very triffing ; yet, in the course of ten months, he enabled himself to read Horace with tolerable facility, and had made some progress in Greek, which indeed he began first. He used to exercise himself in declining the Greek nouns and verbs as he was going to and from the office, so valuable was time become to him. From this time he contracted a habit of employing his mind in study during his walks, which he continued to the end of his life.

He now became almost estranged from his family ; even at his meals he would be reading, and his evenings were entirely devoted to intellectual improvement. He had a little room given him, which was called his study, and here his milk supper was taken up to him ; for, to avoid any loss of time, he refused to sup with his family, though earnestly entreated so to do, as his mother already began to dread the effects of this severe and unremitting application. The law was his first pursuit, to which his papers show he had applied himself with such industry as to make it wonderful that he could have found time, busied as his days were, for anything else. Greek and Latin were the next objects : at the same time he made himself a tolerable Italian scholar, and acquired some knowledge both of the Spanish and Portuguese. His medical friends say that the knowledge

* Turner's Preface to the History of the Anglo-Saxoiis he had obtained of chymistry was very respectable. Astronomy and electricity were among his studies : some attention he paid to drawing, in which it is probable he would have excelled. He was passionately fond of music, and could play very pleasingly by ear on the piano-forte, composing the bass to the air he was playing ; but this propensity he checked, lest it might interfere with more important objects, tie had a turn for mechanics, and all the fittings up of his study were the work of his own hands.

At a very early age, indeed soon after he was taken from school, Henry was ambitious of being admitted a member of a Literary Society then existing in Nottingham, but was objected to on account of his youth: after repeated attempts, and repeated failures, he succeeded in his wish, through the exertions of some of his friends, and was elected. In a very short time, to the great surprise of the society, he proposed to give them a lecture, and they, probably from curiosity, acceded to the proposal. The next evening they assembled : he lectured upon Genius, and spoke extempore for above two hours, in such a manner, that he received the unanimous thanks of the society, and they elected this young Roscius of oratory their Professor of Literature. There are certain courts at Nottingham, in which it is necessary for an attorney to plead ; and he wished to qualify himself for an eloquent speaker, as well as a sound lawyer.

With the profession in which he was placed, he was well pleased, and suffered no pursuit, numerous as his pursuits were, to interfere in the slightest degree with its duties. Yet he soon began to have higher aspirations, and to cast a wistful eye toward the universities, with I little hope of ever attaining their important advantages, "' yet probably not without some hope, however faint. There was at this time a magazine in publication, called thq Monthly Preceptor, which proposed prize themes for boys and girls to write upon ; and which was encouraged by many school-masters, some of whom, for their own credit, and that of the important institutions in which they were placed, should have known better than to encourage it. But in schools, and in all practical systems of education, emulation is made the main

HENRY KIREE WHITE. 11

spring', as if there were not enough of the leaven of disquietude in our natures, without inoculating it with this dilutement — 'this vaccine virus of envy. True it is that we need encouragement in youth ; that though our vices spring up and thrive in shade and darkness, like poisonous fungi, our better powers require light and air ; and that praise is the sunshine, without which genius will wither, fade, and die ; or rather in search of which, like a plant that is debarred from it, will push forth in contortions and deformity. But such pratices as that of writing for public prizes, of publicly declaiming, and of enacting plays before the neighbouring gentry, teach boys to look for applause instead of being satisfied with approbation, and foster in them that vanity which needs no such cherishing. This is administering stimulants to the heart, instead of 'feeding it with food convenient for it ;' and the effect of such stimulants is to dwarf the human mind, as lapdogs are said to be stopped in their growth, by being dosed with gin. Thus forced, it becomes like the sapling which shoots up when it should be striking its roots far and deep, and which therefore never attains to more than a sapling's size.

To Henry, however, the opportunity of distinguishing himself, even in the Juvenile Library, was useful ; if he had acted with a man's foresight, he could not have done more wisely than by aiming at every distinction within his little sphere. At the age of fifteen, he gained a silver medal for a translation from Horace ; and the following year a pair of twelve inch globes, for an imaginary Tour from London to Edinburgh. — He determined upon trying for this prize one evening when at tea with his family, and at supper he read to them his performance, to which seven pages were granted in the magazine, though they had limited the allowance of room to three. Shortly afterwards he won several books for exercises on different subjects. Such honors were of great importance to him ; they were testimonies of his ability, which could not be suspected of partiality, and they prepared his father to regard with less reluctance that change in his views and wishes which afterwards took place.

He now became a correspondent in the Monthly Mirror : a magazine which first set the example of typo-

12 HENRY KIRKK WHITE.

graphical neatness in periodical publications, which has given the world a good series of portraits, and which deserves praise also on other accounts, having among its contributors, some persons of extensive erudition, and acknowledged talents. Magazines are of great service to those who are learning to write ; they are fishing boats, which the Bucaniers of Literature do not condescend to sink, burn, and destroy : young poets may safely try their strength in them ; and that they should try their strength before the public, without danger of any shame from failure, is highly desirable. Henry's rapid improvement was now as remarkable as his unwearied industry. The pieces which had been rewarded in the Juvenile Preceptor, might have been rivalled by many boys ; but what he produced a year afterwards, few men could equal. Those which appeared in the Monthly Mirror attracted some notice, and introduced him to the acquaintance of Mr. Capel Lofft, and of Mr. Hill, the proprietor of the work, a gentleman who is himself a lover of English literature, and who has probably the most copious collection of English poetry in existence. Their encouragement induced him, about the close of the year 1802, to prepare a little volume of poems for the press. It was his hope that this publication might, either by the success of its sale, or the notice which it might excite, enable him to prosecute his studies at college, and fit himself for the Church. For though so far was he from feeling any dislike to his own profession, that he was even attached to it, and had indulged a hope that one day or other he should make his way to the Bar, a deafness to which he had always been subject, and which appeared to grow progressively worse, threatened to preclude all possibility of advancement ; and his opinions, which had at one time inclined to deism, had now taken a strong devotional bias.

Henry was earnestly advised to obtain, if possible, some patroness for his book, whose rank in life, and notoriety in the literary world, might afford it some protection. The days of dedications are happily well nigh at an end ; but this was of importance to him, as giving his little volume consequence in the eyes of his friends and townsmen. The countess of Derby was first applied to, and the manuscript submitted to her perusal. She returned it with a refusal, upon the ground that it was an invariable rule with her never to accept a compliment of the kind ; but this refusal was couched in language as kind as it was complimentary, and he felt more pleasure at the kindness which it expressed, than disappointment at the failure of his application : a 21. note was enclosed as her subscription to the work. The margravine of Anspeach was also thought of. There is among his papers the draught of a letter addressed to her upon the subject, but I believe it was never sent. He was then recommended to apply to the dutchess of Devonshire. — Poor Henry felt a fit repugnance at courting patronage in this way, but he felt that it was of consequence in his little world, and submitted ; and the manuscript was left, with a letter, at Devonshire House, as it had been with the countess of Derby. Some time elapsed, and no answer arrived from her Grace ; and as she was known to be pestered with such applications, apprehensions began to be entertained for the safety of the papers. His brother Neville (who was now settled in London) called several times ; of course he never obtained an interview : the case at last became desperate, and he went with a determination not to quit the house till he had obtained them. After waiting four hours in the servants' hall, his perseverance conquered their idle insolence, and he got possession of the manuscript. And here he, as well as his brother, sick of ' dancing attendance ' upon the great, would have relinquished all thoughts of the dedication ; but they were urged to make one more trial : — a letter to her Grace was procured, with which Neville obtained audience, wisely leaving the manuscript at home ; and the dutchess, with her usual good nature, gave permission that the volume should be dedicated to her. Accordingly her name appeared in the title page, and a copy was transmitted to her in due form, and in its due morocco livery, of which no notice was ever taken. Involved as she was in an endless round of miserable follies, it is probable that she never opened the book ; otherwise, her heart was good enough to have felt a pleasure in encouraging the author. Oh, what a lesson would the history of that heart hold out.

Henry sent his little volume to each of the then existing Reviews, and accompanied it with a letter, wherein he stated what his advantages had been, and what were the hopes which he proposed to himself from the publication : requesting from them that indulgence of which his productions did not stand in need, and w^hich it might have been thought, under such circumstances, would not have been withheld from works of less promise. It may be well conceived with what anxiety he lookedfor their opinions, and with what feelings he read the following article in the Monthly Review for February, 1804.

Monthly Revievvj February, 1804.

' The circumstances under which this little volume is offered to the public, must, in some measure, disarm criticism. We have been informed, that Mr. White has scarcely attained his eighteenth year, has hitherto exerted himself in the pursuit of knowledge under the discouragements of penury and misfortune, and now hopes, by this early authorship, to obtain some assistance in the prosecution of his studies at Cambridge. He appears, indeed, to be one of those young men of talents and application who merit encouragement : and it would be gratifying to us, to hear that this publication had obtained for him a respectable patron, for we fear that the mere profit arising from the sale cannot be, in any measure, adequate to his exigencies as a student to the university. A subscription, with a statement of the particulars of the author's case, might have been calculated to have answered his purpose ; but, as a book which is to "win its way" on the sole ground of its own merit, this poem cannot be contemplated with any sanguine expectation. The author is very anxious, however, that critics should find in it something to coiximend, and he shall not be disappointed : we commend his exertions, and his laudable endeavours to excel ; but we cannot compliment him with having learned the difficult art of writing good poetry.

' Such lines as these will sufficiently prove our assertions :

HENRY KIRKE ViUlTE. 15

" Here would I run a visionary boy, When the hoarse thunder shook the vaulted s%, And, fancy led, beheld the Almighty's form Sternly careering in the eddying storm."

' If Mr. White should be instructed by Alma Mater, he will, doubtless, produce better sense, and better rhymes.'

I know not who was the writer of this precious article. It is certain that Henry could have no personal enemy. His volume fell into the hands of some dull man, who took it up in an hour of ill humor, turned over the leaves to look for faults, and finding that Boy and Sky were not orthodox rhymes, according to his wise creed of criticism, sat down to blast the hopes of a boy, who had confessed to him all his hopes and all his difficulties, and thrown himself upon his mercy. With such a letter before him, (by mere accident I saw that which had been sent to the Critical Review,) even though the poems had been bad, a good man would not have said so ; he would have avoided censure, if he had found it impossible to bestow praise. But that the reader may perceive the wicked injustice, as well as the cruelty of this reviewal, a few specimens of the volume, thus contemptuously condemned because Boy and Sky are used as rhymes in it, shall be inserted in this place.

TO THE HERB ROSEMARY.*

Sweet scented flower ! who art wont to bloom

On January's front severe.

And o'er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume !

Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, And I will bind thee round my brow ;

And as I tv/ine the mournful wreath, I'll weave a melancholy song : And sweet the strain shall be and long.

The melody of death.

*The Rosemary buds in January. It is the flower commonly put in the coffins of the dead.

Come, funeral flower ! who lov'st to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb, And throw across the desert gloom A sweet decaying smell.

Come, press my lips, and lie with me

Beneath the lowly alder tree.

And we will sleep a pleasant sleep,

And not a care shall dare intrude,

To break the marble solitude, So peaceful and so deep.

And hark ! the wind-god, as he flies.

Moans hollow in the forest trees,

And sailing on the gusty breeze, Mysterious music dies.

Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine, It warns me to the lonely shrine, The cold turf altar of the dead ;

My grave shall be in yon lone spot,

Where as I lie, by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.

TO THE MORNING.

Written during illness.

Beams of the day-break faint ! I hail Your dubious hues, as on the robe Of night, which wraps the slumbering globe,

I mark your traces pale.

Tired with the taper's sickly light. And with the wearying, number'd night, I hail the streaks of morn divine : And lo ! they break between the dewy wreaths That round my rural casement twine : The fresh gale o'er the green lawn breathes ; It fans my feverish brow, — it calms the mental strife And cheerily re-illumes the lambent flame of life.