THE LIFE OF WILLIAM BAKER.

WILLIAM BAKER was born in the year 1710, in the pariſh of Boldre, near Lymington, in Hampſhire, His father dying when he was two years old, left him and a ſiſter to the care of his widow; who by taking in waſhing, maintained her two child⯑ren without any relief from the pariſh.—In theſe days ſuch induſtry would exceed belief.

At ſeven years of age young Baker began that life of labour, which he continued through the ſpace of ſeventy years afterwards. He worked firſt for a penny a day in the vicarage-garden; but ſoon thought him⯑ſelf equal to more profitable labour. He uſed to ſay, he always conſidered himſelf as a poor friendleſs lad; and from the beginning depended only on himſelf.

In the mean time his mother grew old, and infirm. Her legs ſwelled, and ſhe could no longer ſtand at her waſh-tub. But nothing hurt her like the thoughts of [...]oing to the poor-houſe, or living on alms.

Her ſon was now about eighteen. He was healthy and ſtrong; and aſſured his mother, that while he was able to work for her, ſhe ſhould be obliged to nobody. He took a little cottage therefore on the edge of the foreſt; carried her to it; and got into the ſer⯑vice of a farmer in the neighbourhood, as a day-la⯑bourer. His mother lived nine years after this; du⯑ring which time he maintained her with great cheer⯑fulneſs, and kindneſs: nor had ſhe ever aſſiſtance from [3]any other perſon. He denied himſelf every little in⯑dulgence, which young fellows of that age often take, that he might maintain his mother.—We do not often ſee ſuch an inſtance of goodneſs in a poor lad. It marked his character as ſomething uncommon. He might, if he had pleaſed, have had her maintained by the pariſh.

About the time of his mother's death he thought of marrying. At a little diſtance from him, under the hill, lived a labourer of the name of Brooks. His daughter Joanna was the perſon whom Baker fixed on for a wife; and no objection being made, he mar⯑ried her, and brought her to his cottage. Joanna had lived under a careful mother, juſt in the way in which he himſelf had always lived; and with the ſame no⯑tions of induſtry and frugality. She entered therefore into all her huſband's intentions. What he gained, ſhe put to the beſt uſe. We both pulled the rope, he uſed to ſay, by the ſame end; and ſo we compaſſed many things, which they cannot do, who pull it at different ends.

In the mean time, his family increaſed: and his induſtry increaſed with it. He now never worked by the day, if he could help it; but took the hardeſt taſk-work he could get, by which the moſt money was to be earned.—And that he might never be idle, he took, at a ſmall rent, of Mrs. John Burrard, of Lymington, a piece of rough ground, about nine or ten acres, on which he might employ his leiſure. Many a time he was ſeen working in it before ſun-riſe; and if his day's work had not been hard, in an evening by moon-light. In a few years he made it worth much more, than when he took it; and he found it of great uſe to his family [4]in furniſhing him ſometimes with a crop of potatoes—or a little corn—or a few loads of hay; which en⯑abled him to keep two or three cows, and as many foreſt-colts—Some years after, his good land-lady died; and this piece of land fell into the hands of Mr. Brailsfield, of Kentiſh-town; who finding it was tenanted by a man, who had taken ſo much pains to improve it, promiſed neither to raiſe his rent, nor to take it from him; which I mention to his honour.—Thus a kind of providence bleſſed all Baker's deſigns; and he was richer, than many a man who is born to thouſands. These are few men, who may not live comfortably, if they live according to their ſtation: and if they do not, the higheſt ſtations will not ſecure them from difficulties. I have often heard Baker ſay, he never knew what want was: but then he never re⯑laxed his uſual frugality. When wheat was dear, to make all ends meet, he lived on barley; and when he could not with convenience compaſs buſhel of malt, he contented himſelf with milk, or water.

He had now five children, who were a conſtant claim upon all his induſtry, and frugality. But he had other claims. He had been kind to his ſiſter, tho' her behaviour did not entirely pleaſe him: and he was now called on from a quarter, he did not expect. His wife's father, grown old, applied to him for aſſiſtance. Of this man he never had a high opinion; but for his mother-in-law he had always the greateſt eſteem. She was as good a woman, he uſed to ſay, as his wife; and he could not ſay more for any woman on earth. However, tho' he could not pretend, with the incumbrance of ſo large a family, to maintain them entirely, he agreed with the overſeers of the pariſh, that if they would [5]pay them a ſhilling a week, he would do the reſt. Ac⯑cordingly he built them a little cottage; and was as kind to them as he could. Soon after, on the old man's death, he took his mother-in-law into his houſe, and kept her till ſhe died; tho' ſhe lived till ſhe was up⯑wards of ninety; and was blind many years.

About the time, that his children were pretty well grown up a fortunate circumſtance happened. He re⯑ceived a legacy of ſewenty pounds, and a clock. This money came very happily to ſettle ſome of his child⯑ren, They had it all, he ſaid. among them: he never had a belly full of meant out of it himſelf. The clock alone he kept [...] clock was the only piece of furniture he ever coveted; and he always intended, if it ſhould be in his power, to have purchaſed one: tho' it is probable, if a clock had not been thus thrown in his way, he would always have found ſomething more uſeful for the employment of his money.

Nor was he kind only to his relations, as he got forward in the world, he was very friendly among his neighbours; and lent many a little ſum to aſſiſt them in their diſtreſſes. But as he was a very ſhrewd, intel⯑ligent man, he lent only where he ſaw his money could be of uſe; to the ſpendthrift he would lend nothing: nor to any man, who frequented an ale-houſe. So judicious was he in theſe loans, that altho' he helped many a man out of a difficulty, I have heard him ſay, he never loſt a farthing by lending money in his life. Often indeed he received the worth of what he had lent, in a little corn, a pig, a calf, or ſomething that was more convenient for the borrower to pay with, than money.

[6]He was now advancing into years, and his good Joanna began to feel the effects of age more than he did. Her ailment was a mere decay of nature: but ſhe was ſo entirely weakened, that ſhe could do no⯑thing for herſelf. Her huſband hired a woman into the houſe to attend her near ſeven years, in which ſhe continued in this helpleſs ſtate. Every thing he could do, he did for a woman, who, he ſaid, had been kinder so every body than herſelf. In the year 1776 ſhe died; and left him greatly afflicted for the loſs of a faithful friend, who had followed cloſe by his ſide, through all his la⯑borious life, for the ſpace of forty years. I have ſeen him ſpeak of her with tears in his eyes, and agitation in all he ſaid, at the age of eighty.

He had now the world, in a manner, to begin again. His children were all married, or diſperſed: and he had nobody with him, on whoſe arm he could lean in deſcending the hill. He thought the wiſeſt thing he could do, was to draw his little matters into as ſmall a compaſs as he could; and rid himſelf, as much as poſ⯑ſible, of the cares of the world. Accordingly he ſold his cows, and horſes, and a little tenement or two, which he had purchaſed, and brought one hundred and ten pounds to a friend to put to ſome uſe. For [...] I cannot now, ſaid he, work myſelf, I muſt make my money, as he phraſed it, work for me. His friend made him underſtand, as well as he could, what was meant by the funds; and adviſed him to put his money into conſolidated annuities for twenty-eight years from January 1780. As this tranſaction was in the year 1782, when the funds were low, he was made to underſtand, that the intereſt would be conſiderable (about eight pounds a year) but that the whole would [7]be loſt, if he ſhould live twenty-ſix years. However, as he did not look forward to that time, he took his friend's advice. Beſides this property, he had two or three other little ſums put out to intereſt in private hands; and a little tenement, which he reſerved for himſelf to live in; with two or three patches of ground, which lay near him, and ſerved to employ him.

He had a good opinion of the charitable ſocieties. or clubs, as they are called, in the ſeveral pariſhes around him; but he thought them uſeful chiefly to thoſe, who could not depend upon themſelves. If young fellows could depend on themſelves, and lay the ſame money by, without breaking into it, he thought it might ge⯑nerally be more uſeful to them. Four-pence a week would amount to near a pound in the year. At harveſt ſome little matter might be added to it. And if this prac⯑tice were begun early in life, in a few years, it might amount to a comfortable ſupport in ſickneſs, or old age. But few young fellows, he ſaid, looked forward to thoſe times. They never thought of more than of living from hand to mouth.

His manner now of ſpending his time, was ſomewhat different from what it uſed to be. He worked only a little, every morning, in his grounds; or in his garden; or in procuring fuel. The reſt of his time he ſpent in reading and in devotion. He had always been a ſerious man; but a buſy life had never allowed him much time for anything but buſineſs. He had now gotten above the world—had his time much to himſelf—and ſpent a great part of it in reading the bible, which was the only book he did read. He had the uſe of his eyes to the laſt; and generally, though by himſelf, read out; which he though made the more impreſſion on his [8]memory. Oftener than once, as I have approached his lonely cottage, I have thought I heard voices: but when I entered, the old man was ſitting alone, with his bible before him. He had as ſtrong natural parts, as I almoſt ever met with; and eaſily underſtood, not only the general meaning, and intention of the goſpel; but many of the moſt difficult paſſages in it. What our Saviour ſaid, he thought, was very eaſy; and much of what St. Paul ſaid. And he told me, he had a very good book of prayers, in his phraſe, for all in⯑tents and purpoſes.

As he grew more, and more infirm, his friends thought it comfortleſs for him to live entirely by him⯑ſelf; and endeavoured to perſuade him to get ſome good old woman to live with him; who might take care of his houſe, and likewiſe of him, if any thing ſhould ail him, Aye, ſaid he, if I could get ſome good old woman: but where is ſhe to be found? He had tried the experi⯑ment, he ſaid; but had no encouragement to try it again. People would not, he added, live now, as he lived. Perhaps he had bad luck in his choice; but he found, that a woman now would ſpend as much in junketting in one day, as would ſerve him for two. Then, he ſaid, there was ſuch conſtant go flipping, and noiſe in his houſe, that he could never have his time at his own diſpoſal. In ſhort, he was obliged to live as they choſe, not as he choſe himſelf. Then fetching a deep ſigh, he would ſay, His good Joanna had ſpoiled him for living with any other woman.

It was then propoſed to him to live with one of his daughters, who was married in the neighbour⯑hood.—He had thought of that, he ſaid: but an old man was always giving offence to one, or another [9]and one or another was always giving offence to him. Beſides, he ſaid, his daughter had ſeveral children; and ſo much noiſe did not ſuit his quiet way of living, He could now, at his own eaſe, follow his own incli⯑nation. In ſhort, it appeared, that while he lived, he wiſhed to live entirely to himſelf; and that it was very indifferent to him, when, and where, and how he died.

The deſtitute condition however in which he lived, laid him open to the depredations of a diſhoneſt neigh⯑bourhood. Many little thefts, when he was watched out of his houſe, were committed. Among other things his pewter-flaggon was ſtolen. It hung over his dreſſer, and contained all his little ſecurities, and promiſſory notes. He had however, with his uſual ſagacity, placed his money in ſuch ſafe hands, that he had on this oc⯑caſion on loſs.

But among the petty thefts, which were committed in his houſe, was a robbery of very ſerious nature. On the day before Lymington-fair the old man had received ſome intereſt money (about five guineas) to purchaſe a few neceſſaries. This being probably known, two men, at midnight, broke into his houſe. His faſten⯑ing indeed was only ſuch as a good ſhake might eaſily diſlodge. They ſoon entered; and one of them preſſing a bolſter over his face, pinned him down with his knee; while the other ſought for the money, which was preſently found. I heard him ſpeak of the tranſ⯑action the next day; and his behaviour raiſed him in my opinion. He ſpoke with the caution of an honeſt man. The thieves had a dark lantern, he ſaid, with them; and he thought he could ſwear to one of them; but he durſt not venture it, where a man's life and character were concerned.

[10]From ſeveral circumſtances however it became more probable, that the man, whom Baker ſuſpected, was guilty. And indeed he himſelf ſoon after confirmed the ſuſpicion: for as the neighbours began more to talk of the thing, and to lay facts together, he thought it prudent to leave the country.—Indeed if wiched men would only conſider before hand the many cir⯑cumſtances, that lead to diſcovery; and the almoſt impoſſibility of providing againſt them all, they would be more cautious, on the mere principles of prudence, in committing any deſperate wickedneſs. One circum⯑ſtance which tended to fix the ſuſpicion of the fact on this man, was, that a child accidentally mentioned having ſeen a cut-cheeſe in his houſe the day after the robbery. Baker had loſt a cut-cheeſe; and it was well-known the man had no cheeſe in his houſe before. The other perſon too was ſuſpected: but if either of them had been taken up, it would moſt probably, have diſ⯑covered both: for a knave cannot be depended on. And indeed it is probable, that both would have been diſcovered, had it not been for the old man's ſcru⯑ples.—I mention all theſe circumſtances, to ſhew, that, in fact, it requires more care, and caution, to commit a wicked action, than moſt men poſſeſs. It is indeed leſs difficult to be induſtrious, and by that means to make a wicked action unneceſſary.

Notwithſtanding however the old man was thus ſo frequently preyed on by wicked people, he ſtill continued to live alone. As to any farther loſſes, he had one way, he ſaid, of preventing them; and that was, to keep nothing about him, that was worth ſtealing. He faſtened therefore the old bolt upon his [11]door; and went to ſleep in his lonely cottage as qui⯑etly, as if he had been in a caſtle.

Tho' he had now enough before him, he continued ſtill to live with his uſual frugality. Many of his neighbours thought he might have indulged his age a little more, as he had the means to do it; and as they themſelves probably would have done in the ſame cir⯑cumſtances; by which they might have ſpent all they had laid up for their old age, not knowing how long God might have lenghtened out their lives. He lived however, as he had been accuſtomed to live, in the beſt of his days; for in many parts of his life he had been put to ſhifts. He had always good cheeſe in his houſe, and good bread, which was his common food, He uſed to brew alſo now and then a buſhel of malt; ſo that he was ſeldom without a little caſk of beer. His garden produced him plenty of cabbages, which was the only plant he reared: and every year he bought at Lymington fair, a ſide of bacon; a bit of which he would, now and then, put into his pot with a cabbage. Freſh meat he never taſted; nor were butter, and tea, among his neceſſaries. On this provilion he never had a day's ſickneſs; and even at thoſe times, when his food was leſs nouriſhing, he was able to do every thing, to which the ſtrength of man is equal.—What can the art of cookery do more?

He was now near eighty; his limbs began to fail; and he was ſubject to rheumatic pains, which ſeized his right leg; and made exerciſe very troubleſome to him. Notwithſtanding however this infirmity, and his living a mile from the church, he rarely miſſed taking a painful walk to it every Sunday. The weather muſt [12]have been very bad to prevent him. And tho' he was now become very deaf, he did not think even that a reaſon for keeping from church.—What an example did he ſet to thoſe, who, tho' in perfect health, inſtead of making the ſabbath a day for obtaining inſtruction, and begging God's bleſſing on the week, profane it by making it a day of paſtime, and often a day of drinking, and other wickedneſs.—He was conſtant alſo at the ſacrament; which he always eſteemed a part of his duty.

He was confined to his houſe about ſix weeks before he died. His illneſs was a mere decay of nature. His legs ſwelled; and his conſtitution was broken up. He now ſubmitted to have ſome⯑body live in his cottage with him. He was preſſed to ſend for a phyſician, as he had the means to pay him: but he was reſolute againſt it. If you could find me a doctor, ſaid he, who would tell me at once, I can do you good—or I cannot do you good, I would ſend for him: but elſe, why ſhould I ſend for a man to be paid for giving me phyſic, when I cannot take victuals?—In ſhort, he knew he was dying, and wiſhed to die with as little moleſtation as he could.

He kept his bed about three days; and was ſenſible to the laſt. He was in conſiderable pain; but he bore it with that firmneſs, and manlineſs, with which he had ſupported all the hard duties of a conſtant life of induſtry. He died on the 15th day of May, 1791; and deſired that the 51ſt pſalin might be ſung before his corpſe, as he was carried through the church-yard to his grave. The thought was new: and the decency, and propriety of it had a good effect.

On his death his effects amounted to about four [13]hundred pounds. That a man, in the loweſt ſtation with a conſtant attention to money, ſhould in the courſe of a long life, raiſe that ſum, or a greater, is not wonderful: but that a man in the loweſt ſtation, ſhould leave ſuch a ſum behind him, after diſcharging all the offices of life with uprightneſs, and propriety, is ſuch an example of an independent ſpirit, and of the force of induſtry, and frugality, as deſerves to be recorded for the benefit of others.—The following inſcription ſtands over his grave in Boldre church yard.