No More Learning

Yet the
connoisseur's credit certainly suffers from the fact that he gave
currency to a false account of the transaction in the hope of
concealing his first credulity. [8]

We now come to the circumstance which procured Chatterton's release
from his irksome apprenticeship--his threat of suicide. He had often
been heard to speak approvingly of suicide, and there is a story,
which has, however, little authority, that once in a company of
friends he drew a pistol from his pocket, put it to his head, and
exclaimed 'Now if one had but the courage to pull the trigger! '
This anecdote--if not in fact true--illustrates very well the gloomy
depression of spirit which alternated with those outbursts of feverish
energy in which his poems were composed. And he had much to make
him miserable when with a change of mood he lost his buoyancy and
confidence of ultimate fame and success. His ambition was boundless
and his audience was as limited in numbers as in understanding. He
was as proud as the poor Spaniard who on a bitter day rejected the
friendly offer of a cloak with the words 'A gentleman does not feel
the cold,' and his pride was continually fretted. He was keenly
conscious of the indignity of his position in Lambert's kitchen; he
seems to have been pressed for money, and though he 'did not owe five
pounds altogether' he probably smarted under the thought that all
his hard work, all the long nights of study and composition in the
moonlight which helped his thought, could not earn him even this
comparatively small sum. Again, he was not restrained from a
contemplation of suicide by any scruples of religion--for he has left
his views expressed in an article written some few days before his
death. He believed in a daemon or conscience which prompted every
man to follow good and avoid evil; but--different men different
daemons--his held self-slaughter justified when life became
intolerable; with him therefore it would be no crime. Wilson suggests
too that the boy who had read theology, orthodox and the reverse, held
to the common eighteenth century view that death was annihilation; and
this may well have been the case. One thing at any rate is certain,
that Chatterton on the 14th of April 1770 left on his desk a number of
pieces of paper filled with a jumble of satiric verse, mocking prose,
and directions for the construction of a mediaeval tomb to cover the
remains of his father and himself. Part of this strange document
was headed in legal form--'This is the last Will and Testament of me
Thomas Chatterton,' and contained the declaration that the Testator
would be dead on the evening of the following day--'being the feast of
the resurrection. ' The bundle was dated and endorsed 'All this wrote
between 11 and 2 o'clock Saturday in the utmost distress of mind. ' Now
while one need not doubt that the distress was perfectly genuine, it
is tolerably certain that Chatterton intended his master to find what
he had written and draw his own conclusions as to the desirability of
dismissing his apprentice.
The attorney (who is represented as timid,
irritable and narrow-minded)[9] did in fact find the document, was
thoroughly frightened, and gave the boy his release. He was now free
to starve or earn a living by his pen--so no doubt he represented
the alternative to his mother. He must go to London, where he would
certainly make his fortune. He had been supplying four or five London
journals of good standing with free contributions for some time past,
and had received it appears great encouragement from their editors. He
gained his point and started out for the great city.

His letters show that he called upon four editors the very day he
arrived. These were Edmunds of the _Middlesex Journal_; Fell of the
_Freeholders Magazine_; Hamilton of the _Town and Country Magazine_;
and Dodsley--the same to whom he had sent a portion of _AElla_--of the
_Annual Register_. He had received, he wrote, 'great encouragement
from them all'; 'all approved of his design; he should soon be
settled. ' Fell told him later that the great and notorious Wilkes
'affirmed that his writings could not be the work of a youth and
expressed a desire to know the author. ' This may or may not have
been true, but it is certain that Fell was not the only newspaper
proprietor who was ready to exchange a little cheap flattery for
articles by Chatterton that would never be paid for. [10]

We know very little about Chatterton's life in London--but that little
presents some extraordinarily vivid pictures. He lodged at first with
an aunt, Mrs. Ballance, in Shoreditch, where he refused to allow his
room to be swept, as he said 'poets hated brooms. ' He objected to
being called Tommy, and asked his aunt 'If she had ever heard of a
poet's being called Tommy' (you see he was still a boy). 'But she
assured him that she knew nothing about poets and only wished he would
not set up for being a gentleman. ' He had the appearance of being much
older than he was, (though one who knew him when he was at Colston's
Hospital described him as having light curly hair and a face round as
an apple; his eyes were grey and sparkled when he was interested or
moved).