The Gentleman’s Magazine 1833

Obituary of Counsellor Bickerton Esq.

Oct. 7. In a wretched hovel, at a place called the Five Chimneys, near the Vauxhall Bridge Road, aged 58, Mr. John Bickerton, an eccentric character, formerly well known in the University of Oxford.

He was the son of a Flintshire farmer, and, according to his repeated assertion, related to the late Admiral Sir Richard Bickerton, Bart. He entered as a Commoner of St. Edmund Hall on the 6th of July, 1793, and continued there for several terms, but never took a degree. The Vice-Principal of that Society, Mr. Crouch, well knowing the state of his mind, declined furnishing him with the papers necessary for his entering into holy orders, in consequence of which Bickerton left the University, and wandered about the country. Between 20 and 30 years since he made his re-appearance in Oxford, with some money in his possession, and assumed the dress of a master of arts. He never walked in the streets without an umbrella, and always attended at the Assizes with a counsellor’s wig on his head. At St. Mary’s Church it was his practice to seat himself near the pulpit, and to take his wig from his pocket, and gravely place it on his head. He usually called himself “Counsellor Bickerton, Esq” and in this name published a small pamphlet, full of incoherent matter. He was very loquacious, but perfectly harmless in his manners. He had no means of obtaining subsistence, at least none that were known, except the benevolence of some members of the University, among whom was the present Bishop of Landaff, then Provost of Oriel College. At one time he purchased a chariot at an auction, removed the pole, and contrived to make it a one-horse carriage. He purchased a horse also, and engaged in his service a youth, well known in Oxford, who was sent over the seas a few years since. Bickerton fitted up his carriage with cooking apparatus; and when the Judges left Oxford, he, dressed in his wig and gown, and accompanied by his man, followed them on the circuit. But his travelling the circuit was soon terminated, for the first time that he appeared in a court where he was unknown (it is believed at Gloucester), he was taken into custody, and afterwards sent from the place. During his journey, he regularly cooked his victuals on the road side, and slept in his carriage. The only food furnished to his horse was what he could collect from green lanes and the sides of ditches. At this period of Bickerton’s life, he had taken up residence at Hertford College, with Constantine Demetriades, the Greek. The only member of that society then remaining, was the Rev. R. Hewitt; and as Bickerton’s steed was fed on the grass-plot, the Vice-Principal (as Mr. Hewitt termed himself) complained bitterly of the filthy state of the quadrangle. In order to prevent the consequences of the indecorous behaviour of the horse, the counsellor regularly attended with his hat placed at the horse’s tail. It is also remembered that during a cold winter, Bickerton being in want of fuel, to procure it he contrived to climb into a tree that was in the quadrangle of Hertford College, seated himself upon one of its branches, and actually sawed the branch off between himself and the trunk, in consequence of which he fell to the ground and was much hurt. When ejected from Hertford, he purchased a small boat, and for some time lived upon the Isis.

After his aquatic residence he left Oxford, but occasionally paid it a visit. Several times within the last few years he was relieved at the Oxford Anti-Mendicity Society. At one time he was completely re-clothed; but in a few months he returned, again wrapped in rags, and covered with vermin. He gave an incoherent account of his losing the clothes given to him, but there is reason to believe that he had sold them. At that time he rode on a donkey, and stated that he was travelling to collect his rents. Several gentlemen of the University and City, at these visits, gave him money and clothes.

Such is the history of this poor man, published at the place of his former residence in the Oxford Herald. At the inquest on his body, one of the witnesses gave the following account of his London life:

“Daniel Friend, of Green Hart-yard, Hatton-garden, said that he knew the deceased. He was a complete master of five or six languages, and perfectly conversant with Hebrew. He formerly kept a school in Wych-street, Strand. He bought the Five Chimneys property about six years ago, for which he paid 380l. He had also one or two houses in Edward-street. A Mr. Dance, a broker, lived in one of them. Some time ago the deceased seized upon Mr. Dance for rent, who replevied, and threw the deceased into Whitecross-street prison. Witness saw the deceased last Friday. He was then knocking up some old tin saucepans, and picking the wire out to sell for old iron. He went out with the wire, and brought home a salt herring and a pound of potatoes. He also brought a bottle containing some vitriol and water, which he took for his compliant. He always complained of being ill used by Mr. Dance.”

On that part of this testimony which relates to Bickerton’s imputed skill in languages, the Oxford Herald remarks:

“On the inquest upon his body one of the witnesses stated that he was a linguist, and thoroughly acquainted with the Hebrew language. We knew him well, and can with confidence assert, that, although once a member of this University, he had very little knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, was totally ignorant of Hebrew, and knew no modern language whatever, except his own. Poor Bickerton was perfectly harmless; he possessed that sort of cunning which often accompanies aberration of intellect; was always moderate in drinking; would never take more than two glasses of wine; he would eat heartily, provided he could do so gratuitously; he never paid attention to cleanliness; he was full of strange fantasies, and we believe, in spite of his apparent misery, was contented and happy. The grandson, of Bickerton’s brother is now resident in Oxford; he is a bedmaker at Magdalen College.” Another person who claimed the same relationship, appeared at the inquest, and described himself as Mr. Richard Palin Bickerton, surgeon, of Adelaide-street, Strand.

The hovel in which Bickerton died was an unfurnished building. It comprised three rooms; but had no windows nor doors; and the lower room was still unfloored, and scattered with broken bricks and mortar. Besides a chair which had been brought by a neighbour towards his last moments, there was no furniture. “The only articles found in the place,” says the London paper, which was ignorant of his history, “were a barrister’s old gown and wig.” So he had parted with every other comfort; but the emblems of that honourable rank, of which he imagined himself the possessor, he would not relinquish, except with life itself. Though probably, judging from the time when he was entered at Oxford, he was not sixty years of age, his poor neighbours regarded him to be between seventy and eighty; and they not only looked upon him as possessed of great learning, but of vast wealth. He was generally known as “the old miser.” A surgeon stated that the deceased has laboured under a disease of the kidneys for five years, but that his life might have been prolonged with proper food and care. The jury accordingly returned as their verdict, that he “died from the want of the common necessaries of life.”