THOMAS DARKER, of Darker's court, Broad marsh, on the 12th of February, 1847, closed a miserable career at the age of 66 years. He was a bachelor, the descendant of an ancient and wealthy family; and, though possessed of ample means, was as parsimonious in his habits as Daniel Dancer. For more than fifty years he immured himself in a wretched attic room, into which no person was admitted. On one occasion a brother of the miserable man had the temerity to enter, but Tommy threatened to shoot him, and the intruder had to withdraw immediately. When any person wanted him on business he held his head out at the door, and conducted the correspondence on the stairs. He cooked, mended, cleaned, and did the household work himself. Every night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, he ventured into the yard for a fresh supply of water. His household expenses were not supposed to exceed two shillings per week. Fire was to him a luxury not to be enjoyed; and his dress was as defective as that of a mendicant. His death was caused by a derangement of the system induced by a decision of the magistrates, ordering him to cover securely the mouth of an old well, which had become dangerous. Driven to madness, he died at the Lunatic Asylum after a few days of intense suffering. Gold and valuable securities were afterwards found secreted in the apartment in which the miser had spent his life. "THE RESURRECTIONIST" was for many years a familiar, if not a very pleasing, object in the streets of Nottingham. He held the office of gravedigger in St. Mary's parish in the time of the resurrectionists, and was discovered to be in league with the sacrilegious wretches engaged in the revolting traffic. Afterwards he became a hanger-on at the coach offices; was distinguished by his abject and filthy appearance, and a matted head of hair unprotected by any covering; and never lost the name of "The Resurrectionist." PETER CONROY, better known as "Blind Peter," a hawker of street literature and self-constituted bellman for the lower districts of the town, has long been a popular personage in our streets. During the agitations of the Chartists, Peter was employed to announce their meetings, and at one of these gatherings on Mapperley plain the luckless bellman was among a party apprehended by the military. It is related that on days when the town has been obscured in dense fogs he has reaped a rich harvest by conveying the bewildered wanderers in the streets to their homes. Chapter Ten. THE POETRY OF NOTTINGHAM. "Potent art thou in poesy." ROBERT MILLHOUSE. THOUGH not the most powerful, yet it is a pleasing order of poetical genius, which selects for its subjects the scenes and characters by which it is surrounded. And, as regards local poesy, we know of few places round which the sons of song have twined a fairer or more goodly garland than the town of Nottingham. William and Mary Howitt, who stand at the head of a noble band of English authors, have written many choice sketches of the haunts frequented by them while they resided in the capital of Sherwood Forest. So has their worthy brother Richard. Millhouse was filled with the beauties of his birth-place. Thomas Miller has not neglected the town in which for so many years he, with a merry heart, wove words into rhyme and osiers into baskets. The quaint quaker lad of the "Mercury" office, Spencer Hall, in an eventful and travelled career has never for a single moment forgotten the people among whom he spent the delightsome days of a happy, hopeful boyhood. And, though with sterner work on hand, who has lingered more lovingly among his native scenes than Henry Sutton?—he in whom the far-off pilgrim finds "A friend unseen, though shaken by the hand." Even the mighty Festus, throned in the sky, has been charmed for awhile from those glorious realms in which his fine fancy ranges at its will; and to the matchless muse of Bailey we owe the sweetest song of the Trent. And can we ever forget the often pensive, and sometimes sprightly, effusions which the sainted White penned on the the place? Or, while thinking of one who has passed away, shall we not guide an encouraging glance at the young, hopeful band, who even now go gaily singing amid the feverish turmoil of this machinerygoverned age of ours. Shall we not join cheerily in the stave o Edward Hind? that poet who has sung of the stars in lines which will live as long as man continues to survey the "roof of the world" and all its glorious mysteries. It were a pleasing task to collect the verses of merit which have been written on Nottingham and its neighbourhood into one goodly volume. Let us hope that some one may yet gather that wreath of scattered flowers. Our borough is rich in ballad and in song. Her metrical romances are to be found in the pages of Ritson and Gutch. Other precious relics lie in scarce pamphlets, and on the dusty shelves of unfrequented libraries. But the most precious repository both of ballad and song is the bulky newspaper file, to whose interesting pages the young aspirants of each succeeding generation have given the firstlings of their flock of fancies. In this little book we can present only a very meagre specimen of the poetry of Nottingham. We know that we have omitted much that is considered the best, but trust that this contribution towards a collection of the kind may hasten the publication of a worthier volume. CASTRI NOTTINGHAMIENSIS DESCRIPTIO. [Huntingdon Plumptre, M.A. From a curious volume of Poems and Epigrams, published by the author in 1629.] SOLE Sub occiduo, qua urbem visurus in ortum Mole tumens grandi, et crebris penetrata cavernis Hic, ubi sidereum propius videt astra cacumen, Æthereoque petit vicinum vertice cœlum. Fama Coritanos contra, dubiosque Brigantes, Impensis Edvarde tuis arx altera surgit, Tuta situ, latoque cavæ munimine fassæ : Celsior illa gradu, spatioque hæc major, utrique Atria bina patent, tectis incincta superbis, Artifici dextra excultis: quibus ordine longo Monia sublimes pinnæ suprema coronant Hinc atque hinc arces candenti marmore surgunt, * Gulielmum Normanum. Vitra procul flammis rutilant, plumboque nitenti IN RUINAS EJUSDEM. Invidet hunc nitidum, pulchris inimica, decorem Absumit muros et depredatur hiantes. Heu quondam regum domus ardua, et inclyta bello, Liberius cœlum admittunt, jamque ipsa minantur Haud taceant; Hic Troja fuit, vox pusthuma dicet. IN NOTTINGHAMIAM. Proximus arboreis locus est prope flumina lucis, Hic urbs illa sedet, vario que splendida cultu NOTTINGHAM ALE. [The historian Blackner relates that "a person of the name of GUNTHORPE, who, within the memory of persons now (1815) living, kept the Punch Bowl public house, in Peck lane, sent a barrel of ale of his own brewing as a present to his brother, an officer in the navy, and who, in return, composed this poetic epistle." It appears to have been a popular song at the end of the last, and beginning of the present, century, and was one which Goldsmith is said to have relished highly, especially when sung by a votary of the comic muse who frequented one of his low haunts in the metropolis. We have taken the liberty of altering one line, as we do not desire to perpetuate in these pages the improprieties of a licentious age.] FAIR Venus, the goddess of beauty and love, A coy sullen slut, as most authors agree: Bold Bacchus, they tell us, the prince of good fellows, Chorus-Nottingham ale, boys, Nottingham ale; And having survey'd well the cask whence he sprung, He mounted astride, to the jolly cask clung, And away to the gods and the goddesses flew; But, when he look'd down, and saw the fair town, pay it due honors, not likely to fail; He swore that on earth, 'twas the place of his birth, Chorus-Nottingham ale, &c. Ye bishops and deacons, priests, curates, and vicars, Chorus-Nottingham ale, &c. Ye doctors, who more execution have done, Ye poets, who brag of the Helicon brook, The friendly assistance of one of the nine- Chorus-Nottingham ale, &c. |