Here he was introduced to the late Dr. Birkbeck, by
Mr. Richard Nichols, brother-in-lav/ to his late master,
Mr. Skirrow. The Dr. treated him with his accus-
tomed urbanity, and gave him introductions to a large
circle of acquaintance, amongst whom Nicholson found
numerous purchasers of his volumes. The Yorkshire
poet, no doubt, cut a picturesque figure in London
society ; for he was dressed in a blue coat, corduroy
breeches, and grey yarn stockings.

During his stay in London, a period of three weeks,
he sold a large number of his books, and was treated
generously by many friends. Through their kindness
he visited every place in the metropolis worthy ot
note. He was particularly gratified by a visit to
Chan trey's works, at Pimlico. Not knowing Chantrey's
person, he obser\^ed to a bystander, while viewing the
bust of His IMajesty George the Fourth, "What merit
does! Theartistisnotnow sellingmilk in Sheffield." It
turned out aftei'^^ards that the person he so addressed
was Chantrey himself. After enjoying a long conversa-
tion with Allan Cunningham, Nicholson departed
without knowing that he had been in company with
the great sculptor. Upon being informed, he sent to
Chautrey an apology in verse for the error he had
committed.



XX\'lll. THE LIFE OF

While in London, a bust of the poet in plaster of
Paris was taken by one of Chantrej^'s workmen. It
is in the possession of the poet's family, and conveys
an admirable likeness of him.

His stay in London was at last shortened by an
mitoward, but laughable affair. Having gained the
acquaintance of a barrister from Yorkshire, he intro-
duced Nicholson to animiber of gentlemen of guy habits,
who lounged away their time in the cloisters of the
Inner Temple. They Avere delighted with the rustic
appearance, eccentric conduct, and witty sayings of
tlie Yorkshire poet ; jind induced him, morning by
morning, to j)artake of refreshment in their chambers.
On the 15 th of November the carousal of the morning
lasted the whole day, being spent by these gentlemen
of the bar, well assisted by the poet, in riotously
drinking wine. In the evening they jiroposed that
he should proceed with them to Drury Lane theatre,
to witness the jierformance of the opera of Artaxerxes.
They paid for him to the dress-boxes, and then took
him into the saloon, where, either intentionally or
through inadvertence, they left him. His odd dress
and apostrophes to Shakspeare, soon collected round
him a number of cyprians and their beaux, who having
never seen such an exhibition before in the place, were
inclined to extreme merriment at his expense. A great
uj)roar was the consequence, and Bond, the officer on
duty at the theatre, took Nicholson to Covent Garden
watch-house.

As he had committed no offence, except apostro-
phizing a bust of Shakspeare, the officer, after awhile,
offered to set him at large ; he would not, however, be
so released, but demanded a hearing before the magis-
trate. Accordingly in the morning he was brought
before Sir Richard Birnie, who, on hearing all the cir-
cumstances, and laughing heartily, discharged him, but
not before the poet, in showing the magistrate how
rudely he was treated by the officer on dragging him
from the theatre, had shaken Bond very roughly and
pulled him round the office. AYlien he had just quitted
Bow-street ofhce, he met his friend the barrister, who,



JOHN NICHOLSON. XXIX.

having been informed of the misadventure was coming
to his aid. As will be readily supposed, the scene at
Bow-street was graphically sketched by the ready pen
of the short-hand writers, and reports of it, dressed
up with the usual condiments, appeared in all the
daily papers, duly headed "• The Yorkshire Poet in
trouble." Knowing well that his wife, upon hearing
through the newspapers that he had been imprisoned,
would instantly joroceed to the metropolis, without
further delay he quitted it for home.

Whatever opinion he had formed of London previous
to the adventure at Bow-street office, it was aftenvards
far from favourable. In a pamphlet he published soon
after his return, giving an account, in prose, of this
journey, he depicts the city in dark colours, and makes
a contrast between it and his favourite Romald's 3Ioor,
much to the advantage of the latter. He adds, " Ii
peace is to be found, 'tis in the cottage of the peasant,
where neighbours and friends meet, reading the Bible
after returning from church, and then "with honest
devotion retiring to rest. This I have seen imder the
wild mountains of Romald's Moor." Throughout the
pamphlet many original and striking observations are
scattered. One I shall transcribe, because it fomis
the best excuse for the inveterate habit of intemperance
which he had contracted. After moralising on the in-
firmities and calamities of poets, he j^roceeds, " Walk
to their monuments, and see their ages at death. Could
they speak and disclose what they had felt, even the
most enthusiastic admirers of their works, could they
become superior to them all in point of genius, would
shrink from the overwhelming anxiety and woe that too
oft cut short a poet's life. The public answer, they
should not drink; but of the veiy persons who are advi-
sing them, the next sentence is — come take a single glass
with me, a single glass cannot hurt you. The poet
refuses — again is pressed; he knows it hurts him, but
is afraid to disoblige his friend — he is a subscriber; —
points out the beauties, the defects, &c., of the work.
The next gentleman he meets with does the same :
perhaps another enters — another glass is the conse-



XXX. THE IJFE OF

quence ; the poet's heart warms — forgets his constitu-
tion — till in a few years, like lime with water, he falls
iiway and drops into the earth."

*' Chords that bring the sweetest measure
Trill the deepest notes of woe.''

A letter which he sent to a distinguished friend,
shows very vividly the state of mind and feelings of
our poet at this time, and elucidates some passages in
his life. Rewrites, '"Days, weeks, and months pass
away, and adversity and the rhymer have become
familiar. At the beginning I cringed and bowed to
every blast of misfortune, but my mind has at last
strengthened, and I meet the storms of life with a
kind of despairing resolution. I am sat in my cottage
this morning, and praised be the Giver of every gift,
we have not a want but this day is supplied — all in
good health, and a few pounds to spare. I have been
for some time back safely at anchor with my father,
whom I shall ever respect, and if ever I can vejyuj him
I will. I cannot reflect with pleasure on the quantities
of stimulus I have lately swallowed. I felt my own
"bosom, and thought it was giving way under the accu-
mulated load of anxiety. I was afraid of the lunatic
asylum. You smile at this, but consider hopes flying

among the stars - ■•'-. I cannot help thinking

if I have good conduct, and sell all my present works,
that I can write something better than I have ever
A'et written. This may be vanity ; but I know one
thing, I have been greatly deficient in reading, and
have accidentally hit r.pon some lines very like those
of others which the public may think I have borrowed,
but which are in reality my own. After my composi-
tions were put together, I never could either write
new in their 2)lace or correct the old, for the anxietv
which pressed on my mind smothered invention. I
have just read the introduction to Clare's poems.
What have I had to suffer compared to what he had ?
'Tis true my family have been more numerous ; but
then I have had more friends. When he, poor man !
had worked hard for his twenty shillings to pay for



JOHN NICHOLSON. XXXI.

thi'ee hundred copies of a very humble prosj)ectus,
and when they were all distributed, what was the
number of subscribers? Seven ! 1 1 Only seven. Oh !
what must he have felt! He had no one to whom he
could unbosom his mind, at least who had any influence.
I sadly want to know my fate; but if my works should
clear me forty or fifty pounds, I would be well dressed,
take a day when I thought, and scribble over another
poem. You will say. What, not tired yet! No, Sir;
I loiow I can leave my children no other legacy than
a volume of tiifles, if they can find a real friend to
publish them. I will tell you what I am afraid of —
many will compare my works with those who have
had far greater privileges, and then they will be
found wanting."

The disappointment he experienced on the first visit
to the metropolis did not prevent him, after the lajjse
of a few months, vv'ishing to try his fortmie there again.
He believed that London was the great mart for the
works he had published, and tliat he had not used
proper means to bring them before the metropolitan
public. His wife having sufficient evidence of the fruits
Avhich might be expected from the intended journey,
used every persuasion to deter him, but in vain. She
therefore determined to be a partner in the trip, and
endeavour, if possible, to bring home some portion oi
the money which the sale of his works might produce.
Being aware she would pro^'e a great check on his
excesses, he endeavoured to escape from her, but
failed; and after a laughable journey, they reached
the metropolis in the Spring of 1828. All his former
friends received him with marks of kindness ; and
he even became intimate with Bond, the officer who
took him into custody when before in town.

The five weeks he remained in London this second
time were marked by none of the eccentric conduct or
excesses of the former. While there, he buried a fa-
vourite infant child, and wrote on the occasion some
verses which were printed in the Morning Advertiser.
accom];)anied with flattering remarks on the poetical
abiUty of the author. During his stay in the metro-



XSXU. THE LIFE OF

polls he obtained, through the kind offices of j\Ir.
Nichols, and the intercession of Dr. Birkbeck, a grant
of ten pounds from that meritorious institution, the
Literary Fund Society.

When he returned home, that kind-hearted and
generous man, Dr. Birkbeck, (peacebewithhis manes!)
spontaneously presented Nicholson's wife with four
pounds, besides having on other occasioas given him
considerable sums.

The demand for his works in the metropolis was,,
compared with that in the country, not so large as he
had been led to expect; indeed it could not be sup-
posed, except by the most inexperienced, that a poet,
unknown to " fortune or to fame," would at once
attract notice in that great arena of literature. The
Yorkshire newspapers had, by favourable notices of
his publications, greatly assisted the sale of them in
this district. James Montgomery, Esq., a poet of
great merit, edited at this period the Sheffield Iris,
a paper of wide circulation, and penned a most flatter-
ing review of " Airedale, &c." As a consequence,
Nicholson sokl more copies of the work in Sheffield,
than in any other town. ^Mr. Montgomeiy also wrote
a letter to him, in which, with the true generosity of
genius, he bestowed great praise on Nicholson's poeti-
cal powers. This letter he greatly prized, as coming
from so high an authority, and being printed in the
local papers, contributed much to spread his fame.

He numbered among his patrons the late Earl of
Harewood and Lord Ribblesdale, and from both re-
ceived considerable pecuniary gifts. There are several
anecdotes related of the kind condescension both these
amiable noblemen showed to Nicholson. He v;as ever
a welcome guest at their mansions, and never return-
ed from them without having partaken largely of the
owners' hospitality. The late Lord Eibblesdale, an
amateur artist, presented a painting by himself, to
Nicholson, and which is now in the possession of his
family ; it was highly valued by him on account of the
noble giver. His Ijordship frequently gave our poet
trifling articles of dress from his own person, such as



JOHN NICHOLSON. XXXDl,

silk handkerchiefs. Tong Hall was another place
which Nicholson often visited ; and there, and Bram-
ham Park (as before alluded to), were the spots he
most loved.

A circumstance now occuiTed which put an end to
his book-selling journeys. The person who had printed
;md published for him became insolvent, and on an
execution being levied on his goods, a large stock of
Nicholson's publications were seized. In vain he
remonstrated against this proceeding, and showed that
he had purchased the paper on which these publications
were printed. During several days, they were offered
for sale by the hammer, — realising about half their
value. Nicholson did not quietly submit to the in-
justice ; he came to Bradford, and pulled the auctioneer
from his stand while selling the works. The sale,
howeve)", was S3 great that compositors were employed
to set some of them in type, and they were sold wet
from the press. Henceforward the demand for them
in this quarter was glutted, and the source whence
Nicholson had for some years drawn the main portion
of his supplies, cut off.

No other resource now remained besides his trade ;
but employment in wool-sorting notbeing easily obtain-
ed, he was obliged to earn a livelihood by the laborious
jind ill-recompensed occupation of wool-combing.

He removed from Bingley to Bradford in 1833, and
here remained during the remainder of his life. For
a period of nearly ten years, he obtained employment
in the warehouse of Titus Salt, Esq., who, to his honour,
retained him when very few masters would have
suffered the annoyance of his broken and disjointed
labours. During the first few years he resided in
Bradford, he was in easier circumstances than he had
been for some years previous. Several of his family
had now arrived at an age when they were able, by
working at the staple manufactures of Bradford, not
only to sustain themselves, but oft, too oft, when their
father neglected to bring home the earnings of the
week, supported the whole of the household. He had
the advantage of having industrious and affectionate

G



XXXIV. THE LIFE OF

children, who, if he had been unable to work, would
cheerfully have laboured for his maintenance, and were
ever ready to sacrifice their own ease to his happiness.

In 1830, he became a convert to temperance princi-
ples, or, to spea]: more properly, put them in practice :
for it cannot be doubted that the heart-aches, bitter
reflections, and woo, he had brought upon himself
and others near and dear to him, taught him years
before the folly of his conduct. The advocates of
temperance were numerous in the neighbourhood of
Wilsdcn, and published an unique collection of poeti-
cal pieces in favour of their views. " The Drunk ird'&i
Eetribution," in the following pages, was thus publish-
ed. After abstaining from intoxicating drinks for a
long period, alas ! he returned to the old path of
dissipation.

VvTiile at Bradford, he vras engaged by Mr. Richard
Oastler, then in the zenith of popularity, as an advocate
of the rights of factory children, to write a poem
depicting their sufferings, and urging their claims upon
the philanthropist. He remained at Fixby Hall during
the composition of this piece, two or three weeks.
After it was published, the j>oet and his patron dis-
agreed.

Nicholson's claim upon the Literary Fund Society
was again urged in 1837. E, C. Lister, Esq., M.P.
for Bradford, having been requested to apply to the
Society, exerted himself in our poet's behalf, and
finally obtained another ten pounds for him. It must
be mentioned, that Mr, Geller greatly assisted in
obtaining this last donation.

The remaining portion of Nicholson's sad history
is soon narrated. His life was henceforword a chequer-
ed scene of labour one day. and reckless conduct the
next. He never gave up the pleasure of composing
poetry; and at intervals wrote 'A description of the
Low-Moor Iron- Works,' 'A Walk from Knaresbo rough
to Harrogate,' and other pieces, some of wliich are of
considerable length, and were published. It was evident,
however, that he had lost a considerable portion of the
inspiration which he formerly possessed. One of these.



JOHN NICHOLSON. XXXV.

Iiowever, *' England's Lament for the Loss of her Con-
stitution,' VvTitten at the time of the passing of the
OathoHc Emancipation Act, and predicting that it would
only tend to increase the demands of the party it was
intended to satisfy, contains passages of great power.
He wrote also in verso against the Socialists and
Ohartists, who were, with the great Agitator of Ireland,
the especial objects of his hatred. A fev/ short poems
which he wrote in the latter portion of his life (inserted
in the present collection) are worthy of his best days.
Immediately preceding his death, he commenced a
poem on the Afghanistan war. I have tlie fragment
before me ; it was written in blue ink, v.ith a ling
stalk, as a substitute for a pen.

We now approach the time of his melancholy end.
On holidays he almost invariably retraced the footsteps
of youth on the wilds of Eld wick. It was a common
saying of his on such occasions — ''I'll be off to Eld-
wick, to breathe a little mountain air, and get my throat
cleansed from the smoke of Bradford;" and he usually
started thither the night previous to the holiday. The
evening before Good Friday, April 13th, 1843, he left
Bradford for the purpose of visiting his aunt atEldwick,
and called at several places on the road. When he
left Shipley, time was fast approaching midnight. He
was observed to proceed up the bank of the canal in
the direction of Dixon Mill; and at this place, it seems,
attempted to cross the river Aire by means of the
stepping-stones there, so as to take the most direct
course to Eldwick. The night was dark and stonny,
and the river swollen. It is conjectured, that in en-
deavouring to cross the stepping-stones, and on reach-
ing the farther part of the river, he missed his footing
imd fell into the current, which runs deep and impetu-
ously at that point. From the appearance of the place
next morning, he had been carried away eight or ten
yards, when he caught hold of some hazel boughs,
and, by a great effort, got out of the water. The marks
of his struggling were visible on the side of the bank,
which is steep. It must have required great
])reseDce of mind and physical strength to enable



XXXVl. THE IJFE OF

him to extricate himself out of the river. Afterwarfls
he had crept on his hands and knees through a hole
in the hedge which fences off the river, a part of his
coat heing found in the hole. Exhausted and be-
numhed, he lay here until about six in the mornii},c(,
when a half-witted fellow, passing near, hoard hiin
groan, and saw him rise into a sitting posture. The
man was terrified, and. witliout rendering any assistance,
hastened to the farm-house whither he was going for
milk, — did not mention the circumstance there, and
returned another way home. There is no question
that Nicholson's life would have been saved had this
person either rendered assistance, or stated at the farm-
house what he had seen. Two hours after, the poor
poet was seen by a farm-labourer who was proceeding
to his work, and upon calling out and receiving no
answer, he, without further investigation, ran to inform
his master at Baildon, who instantly returned with
him to the place, where they found Nicholson dead ;
but life had only been extinct a short time, as he was
quite warm.

The body being removed to the Bay Horse Inn,
Baildon, a medical gentleman quickly attended, who
pronounced death to have been caused by apoplexy,
owing to the body having been long exposed to water
and cold. The coroner at his inquest on the body
recorded a verdict in conformity with the opinion of
the surgeon.

On Tuesday, the 18th, Nicholson's remains were
deposited in Bingley church-yard. A large concourse
of people, out of respect to his memory, met the corpse
on the way, and at the burial a thousand persons at
the least were present : a full choir joined in the sub-
lime burial service of the Church of England ; and a,
mourning peal was rung. Soon after his death, the
poet's widow, with assistance from George Lane Fox,
Esq., erected a neat tombstone over his remains, with
a suitable inscription.

He left his wife with eight children, two of them
of tender age. The desire he expressed in the letter
before quoted has been fulfilled. Several ' real' friends



JOHN NICHOLSON. XXXVll.

have been found to publisli the legacy of trifles he ha,s
left to his children.

The portrait of Nicholson, by Mr. Geller of London,
with characteristic generosity presented gratuitously
*for this as well as the last edition, conveys a faithful
representation of the features of the original. He had
attained, when the portrait was taken, forty years of
age ; and time and intemperance had not made much
havoc in his look or constitution. There are some
points which the burnisher of the artist could not
bring out. Our poet was of a very ruddy complexion,
with a dark ])rown eye, in which fire seemed to roll
at the bottom. His eye and massy overshadowing
brow were the only indexes in his countenance of the
intellectual power he possessed. He was about five
feet ten inches in height, of robust make, broad
shouldered, and rather stooped.

Indisposition he was humane, kind-hearted, frank,
and without deceit. The words of Churchhill may
most happily be applied to him ; for he was truly —

" Foe to restraint, unpractised in deceit ;
Too resolute from nature's active heat
To brook affronts, and tamely pass them by ;
Too proud to flatter, too sincere to lie.''

His great and sole vice was intemperance. Without
partiality, it may be said that he had no other. In the
train of drunkenness often follows a host of attendant
sins, such as lewdness, profanity, lying, evil speaking.
Of these he wiis guiltless. As was written of another
frail son of genius, in allusion to his besetting sin —
"Oh! call it not vice, it might be but woe" ; so may
it of Nicholson ; for when in the most distress, or stung
in soul, he endeavoured to drown his cares in oblivion's
cup. Nicholson's brother Thomas, who is most inti-
mately acquainted with all particulars in the life ol
our poet, and has funiished a large portion of the ma-
terials of this sketch, states that for years before his
death a couple of glasses of ale were sufficient to make
him tipsy. When under the influence of intoxicating
liquor, he seldom misbehaved in any other manner
than raving in poetry.



XXXVlll. THE LIFE OF

Hovv irreconcilable are the ways of man ! At the
time of his M-orst conduct he was deeply impressed
with religions precept?;, and took parent care to instil
them into the minds of his children. On Sundays, he
delighted to read the sublime passages in the prophets,
and ol'ten declared they were the perfection of mighty
poetry. In the better moments of life, he was sin-
cerely devout; and has, it is not presimiptuous to
believe, found that mercy which he so affectingly im-
plored in the admirable prayer with which this volume
is suitably closed.

Few men in the same lowly station of life had more
sincere well-wishers and admirers. There are indeed
to be found thickly scattered through the mass of
society, men who gloat with envious pleasure upon
any faiUng which the sons of genius may possess, or
which all the arts of hell can, if possible, impute to
them, though without foundation. These shooters in
the dark of slander's arrows, conceive that whatever
lowers those favoured in intellect or the gifts of fortune,
elevates, in comparison, themselves. That Nicholson
had many such enemies, who were glad that by his
conduct he somev/hat lowered himself to their own
mean level, there is no doubt. Then again, the
very genius and superiority of a man, tend to draw
upon him the scrutinising eyes of his neighbours,
and to magnify defects of character, which, in ordinaj'V-
people, would almost pass unnoticed : —

"The hrichter that we find tlie gem
The darker seems the speck."

Reader ! if within tlice glows the purest fire oi'
heaven; if thou art distinguished among men for
mighty genius, or mentol attainments; if thou hast
many sincere and influential friends, and the gifts of
fortune are within thy power, let the life of poor Ni-
cholson serve in part as a beacon to show that all these
will not compensate for the want of prudence and good
conduct, but will rather hasten thy passage to disap-
pointment, tribulation, nnd certain woe. "Let him
that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he frtll."