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Updated: June 27, 2025
"There, now, I can't go back," she said to herself, and in a minute or two she was in the reception room, and Alexia Rhys was running over the stairs and standing with a puzzled expression on her face, before her. "Oh, my goodness me oh, oh!" exclaimed Alexia, with a little laugh. "Is this you, Miss Chatterton?"
He adored being poor. When his canvas gave out, he painted his ankles to caricature the violent creations that were the pride of Chatterton, who was a nabob. When his credit at one restaurant expired, he strode confidently up to another proprietor, and announced with the air of one bestowing a favor: "I am Rantoul, the portrait-painter.
"Clearly I have had nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Chatterton to herself, stumbling into a room at the other end of the hall. But her face was gray, and she found herself picking nervously at the folds of lace at her throat. "The child went up there, as all children will, to explore. I shall say nothing about it nothing whatever.
"Jinny us, jinny us, Take care of your carcass," and explains that no genius ever lived to ninety without being appreciated. "If Chatterton and Keats had attended to this, they would have been all right. If James Watt had died at fifty he would have been all wrong; for at fifty he was a failure! so was the painter Etty, the English Tishin." And then he accumulates examples.
They would fly away then, and I should never find them again, when I wanted to think them." "Your mother brought you up well, I must say," observed Mrs. Chatterton, deliberately drawing up a chair and putting her long figure within it, "to talk in this style to a lady as old as I am." Phronsie allowed one foot to gently trace the pattern on the carpet before she answered.
"Noo, I want to speak to you on a point of great importance to yourself, my young friend, before you get acquainted with the regiment. Hoo long have you been in the depot here, John Chatterton?" "Eighteen months." "Weel, man, that's a-year-and-a-half, and you must be almost a man noo."
To Chatterton, with whom this zealous friend and biographer has mentioned him, he is not to be compared. Chatterton has the force of a young poetical Titan, who threatens to take Parnassus by storm. White is a boy differing from others more in aptitude to follow than in ability to lead. The one is complete in every limb, active, self-confident, and restless from his own energy.
Chatterton," he said, "I wish to introduce you to my wife, Lady Arleigh." The stately dame curtesied almost to the ground. "Welcome home, my Lady," she said, deferentially. "If I had known that your ladyship was expected I would have made more befitting preparations." "Nothing could be better you have everything in admirable order," responded Lord Arleigh, kindly.
The conversation of the good-natured Colonel Sword with Chatterton had opened that young hero's eye so entirely to the folly of his conduct, that it needed many encouraging speeches from his superior to keep him from sinking into despair. "That I should have been such a fool," he said, "as to think that Marion would prefer any body to me!"
The poor and humble lad was a second Chatterton, with none of the political baseness and ferocious hatred of the great ones of earth that led his English prototype to turn pamphleteer and revile his benefactors.
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