Interesting Incidents Connected With the Life of George Bickers Originally a Farmer's Parish Apprentice at Laxfield, in Suffolk, but Now Residing in Oulton

Lowestoft: G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.

THE writer of these pages was born at Laxfield, a village in the County of Suffolk, on the 16th day of January, 1809, the forty-eighth year of our good King George the Third’s happy reign. That eventful day was to me the commencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes I have had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of all the Lord hath delivered me.

That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a great British General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain, whither he had gone to take the command of the English forces, in order, if possible, to relieve that unhappy country, then being sorely harassed by the armies of Napoleon I., under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult), but the campaign proved a failure, resulting in the death of the Commander-in-Chief, and the re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of about eight hundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for the valour of British arms on that memorable and trying occasion. But France was destined to be humbled, and six years later on, Napoleon and his generals felt the weight of British prowess at Waterloo.

I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte, poor, but industrious people, my father being an agricultural labourer: and, having but a slender income, yet felt a wish their children should acquire a little education, which might prove useful to them in their future stations in life under which they might be called.

When about four years of age, while one day playing in the road with other children, near my father’s cottage, there happened to be a horse, belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietly feeding. Being then (as since) very forward in mischief, I threw my cap at the quiet creature, and then must needs go too near its heels to pick it up; the sad consequence was I was kicked on the head, and my right eye nearly perished, but, under the skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in the village, my eyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more than sixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also the seam in the bone is still perceptible. But what of the poor horse? He came to grief very soon after, as one day being loose in the stable, and the master, going in to take him some food, omitted to shut the door, the horse ran out, and, before the man could recover him, he was struck by one of the sails of the windmill, and was killed thereby. This accident reminded the owner of that dangerous machine that it would be much better to raise it higher, which was soon after accomplished. And, perhaps, I may be permitted to observe that, by the kind care of a watchful and loving Jehovah, my life was preserved; and, in looking back, can praise the Lord for His goodness, and for the care extended unto me at this, the beginning of my journey of a long life.

The time had now arrived when school must be attended, and my first schoolmaster was Mr. Benjamin Chenery, at that time clerk and sexton of the parish, and was no ways sparing of the heads and backs of his pupils, but we hope, on the whole, he followed a rightful course, for he had in his vocation many grave and solemn duties to perform, both as to the interment of the aged, as also the education and training of the young.

Under the care and tuition of Benjamin, I first learned to read, to write upon a slate, and do little sums, after having mastered the figures. Easy spelling also came on, as a matter of course; and there was no lack of errands to perform, as well for the mistress as the master, and I occasionally assisted in sweeping up the church, the chancel being occupied as a schoolroom during the summer season, when fire was not needed, as the master was not usually at a loss to supply a warming.

The churchyard, too spacious as it was, proved a most excellent playground; there were plain spaces for marbles and tops, piers and buttresses for hide-and-seek; graves, and stones, and tombs, to jump over and jump from, without any restriction, and readily did we unite in these healthful exercises, however dangerous or mischievous they might be in other respects.

There was another school near, kept by Mr. John Goodwin; the pupils were more advanced, some being farmers’ sons. That being a free school, yet the master was allowed to take private pupils. Females, also, were instructed, having a room to themselves opposite the master’s desk, called the “Ladies’ Room.” The boys at those schools were not allowed to play together, the smaller ones possessing the protection of the sacred enclosure, which was at the larger ones’ peril to invade. We could see them at their play, as we looked through the openings of the gate; and there was sometimes displayed a germ of hostility among the youthful students.

In attending this school I was taught to read, and also easy spelling, as before observed; then came little sums in addition, subtraction, and multiplication. I soon became able to read in class; we daily read the Psalms from the book of Common Prayer. We did not have bible reading at this school, as many families at that time did not possess the sacred volume, my parents being among that number; but our immediate neighbours were in possession of a bible, and were always willing to lend it to my parents of an evening, and the owners, being aged people, would often invite me to stand and read to them from their bible, of Adam and Eve, of Noah, of Abraham, and Lot, of Isaac and Jacob, and also that remarkable narrative of Joseph and his brethren. These exercises were to me helps in the right direction. My master found I was getting on, and set me to read to him pieces from history, principally from Goldsmith’s “Vicar of Wakefield.” The closing paragraph of the 7th chapter I will here insert, because, although more than sixty years have rolled away, yet I well remember the concluding sentences. Here is a sample:—

“My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument. She observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were freethinkers, and made very good husbands. And she knew some sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their spouses. ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may be able to do? The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject, and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’ ‘Why, my dear, what controversy can she have read?’ cried I. ‘It does not occur to me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly overrate her merit.’ ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not. I have read a great deal of controversy. I have the disputes between Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy in ‘Religious Courtship.’’ ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”

And the master added, “you shall have a piece on’t, mister, when it be enough.” I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage could be found. At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many times:—

“‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future, busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost.’ ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in general?’ ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well, and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and brewing tubs for nothing.’ ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he will sing us ‘_Death_ and the _Lady_’ to raise our spirits into the bargain.’ ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I think he goes through it very prettily.’ ‘Does he so?’ cried I, ‘then let’s have it. Where is little Dick? Let him up with it boldly.’ ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I’ll sing them for you, papa. Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’ ‘The elegy, child, by all means,’ said I. ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at all sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the boy a little.”

This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”

THE ELEGY, ETC.

Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song, And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe, The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes; And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man; Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye, And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die; But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied, The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.

The master did not attempt to enlighten me. At the close of the elegy, he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?” But no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.

My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was much attached. They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper. She was a useful creature, having carried me many miles. I could spend many half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in charge liked my company, so that the time passed away. I had often little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes and roads. This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when labourers made full time.