miserably poor and ill-fed.

In July he changed his lodgings to the house of a Mrs. Angel, a sacque
maker in Brook Street, Holborn; the dead season of August was coming
on and probably he wanted to conceal his growing embarrassment from
his aunt, who might have sent word of it to his mother at Bristol.

His opera was accepted--it is a spirited and well written piece--and
for this he was paid five pounds, which enabled him to send a box of
presents to his mother and sister bought with money he had earned.
He had dreamed of this since he was eight. But his _Balade of
Charitie_--the most finished of all the Rowley poems--was refused by
the _Town and Country Magazine_ about a month before the end; which
came on August 24th. He was starving and still too proud to accept the
invitations of his landlady and of a friendly chemist to take various
meals with them. He was offended at the good landlady's suggestion
that he should dine with her; for 'her expressions seemed to hint'
(to _hint_) 'that he was in want'--no cloak for Thomas Chatterton! He
could have borrowed money and gone back to Bristol, but there are many
precedents for beaten generalissimos falling on their swords rather
than return home defeated and disgraced. How could he return? He had
set out so confidently; had boasted not a little of his powers, and
had satirized all the good people in Bristol _de haut en bas_. Think
of the jokes and commiserations of Burgum, Catcott, and the rest!
'Well, here you are again, boy; but of course _we_ knew it would come
to this!' He could not endure to hear that.

Accordingly on Friday the 24th August 1770 he tore up his manuscripts,
locked his door, and poisoned himself with arsenic.