not come aft with the other men, asked the captain who he was. The
captain replied, he was an Indian, and a brave sailor, so called him by
his name. Wat ye want wit mee, replies the Indian, mee wont come,
dammee. Upon which the lieutenant sent some of the barge crew to bring
him forward which the brave Indian perceiving, he caught hold of a
handspike, and put himself in a posture of defence, crying out to the
barge crew who came up towards him, dammee, ye meddle wit mee, mee dash
your brains out. The crew, finding him resolute, did not think proper to
attack him: upon which the lieutenant asked him, if he would serve king
George. Dam king George, mee know no king George: mee be an Indian, mee
have a king in my own country, whom mee love and fightee for, because he
be de very good king: at which the lieutenant and captain fell a
laughing, and left him.
Are these all your men? says the lieutenant. Yes, replied the captain,
except an old man, who dreamed the other night that his wife died of the
small-pox, and was so much frightened, that the small-pox is come out
upon him. The captain then ordered the bills to be made for what was due
to the men, and asked the lieutenant in the mean while to walk down and
taste his rum. Accordingly down comes the lieutenant, humming a tune.
Mr. Carew, hearing this, prepared himself, and, taking an opportunity of
putting his finger down his throat, discharges his stomach just under the
lieutenant's feet, crying out in a most lamentable tone at the same time,
O, my head! O my back! What! cried the lieutenant very hastily, is this
the fellow who has the small-pox? No, no, replied Carew; I have had the
small-pox many years ago, and have been with Sir Charles Wager and Sir
George Walton up the Baltic; and now, for God's sake, take me on board
your ship, noble captain, for I want only to be blooded. The lieutenant
whipped out his snuff box, and clapped it to his nose, swearing, he would
not take him on board for five hundred pounds, for he was enough to
infect a whole ship's crew; that the devil should take him before he
would--hurrying at the same time as fast as he could into the great
cabin. When he came there, Mr. Carew heard him complaining how
unfortunate it was that he should come on board, as he had never had the
small-pox himself. When the rest of the men had had their bills made
out, the captain, willing to get rid of Mr. Carew, said to him, come, old
John, I will have your bill made to; which was accordingly done, and it
amounted to seven pounds ten shillings, for which the captain gave him a
draught on merchant Tidiate of Bristol. The captain then ordered the
boat to put him on shore; but he besought the captain to let him die on
board. No, no, says the captain; by all means take him on shore. Ay,
ay, says the lieutenant, take him on shore. Then the captain called to
some of the sailors, to help the poor old man over the side of the ship,
and out came Mr. Carew, with the blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and
so well did he counterfeit, that he seemed a most deplorable object of
compassion. The boat having got a little distance from the ship, was
called back again, and the lieutenant tossed him half-a-guinea, charging
him not to go into the city of Bristol, as he was enough to infect the
whole city.
Thus our hero, after seeing many cities and men, undergoing great
hardships, and encountering many dangers and difficulties, once more set
foot on his beloved country. Notwithstanding the joy he felt at being
safe on shore, he did not lay aside his small-pox, but travelled on
towards Bristol as one very bad in that distemper. Coming to Justice
Cann's, near Derham Downs, he met with the gardener, whom he asked if the
justice lived there, and was at home? Being told he was, he made a most
lamentable moan, and said, he was just come from New England, and had the
small-pox on him. The gardener went into the house, and, soon returning,
told him the justice was not at home; but gave him half-a-crown. He
still kept crying, I am a dying man, and I beseech you let me lie and die
in some hay-tallet, or any place of shelter. The gardener, seeing him so
ill, went in again, and brought out a cordial dram, and a mug of warm
ale, which Mr. Carew made shift to swallow. The gardener then left him,
being so much affrighted at his appearance and lamentable moans, that he
let both glass and mug fall to the ground, before he reached the house.
Mr. Carew then made a shift, notwithstanding his dying condition, to
reach the city of Bristol; and being now freed from his apprehensions of
being pressed, at the first barber's he came to he got rid of his beard,
and bid adieu to the small-pox; he then made the best of his way to the
mendicants' hall, on Mile-hill. Just as he came there, the landlady and
an old croney, a tinker's wife, were standing at the door; as soon as the
landlady espied him, she clapped her hands, and swore it was either Mr.
Carew or his ghost. As soon as they were convinced he was flesh and
blood, great were the kisses, hugs, and embraces, of the three. Our
hero's first inquiry was, when they had seen his dear Polly, meaning his
wife: the landlady told him she had not seen her lately, but had heard
that she and his daughter were well; but that his wife never expected to
see him more.
Mr. Carew soon called for a room above stairs, ordered an elegant dinner
to be provided, and passed the afternoon very merrily. The next morning
he waited on the merchant with his bill, and received the money for it;
then weighed anchor, and steered for Bridgewater, where he arrived at
night. He immediately repaired to a mumper's house, kept by a one-eyed
woman, named Laskey, from whence he went to the Swan, where several
gentlemen were passing the evening together, viz. Mr. More, Dr. Deptford,
Counsellor Bedford, and others, all of whom were particularly acquainted
with him; however, he pretended to be a West Indian who had been cast
away in a ship, coming from Antigua, which foundered behind Cape Clear;
that he was taken up by an Irishman, and afterwards put on board a
Bristol ship. Having by this story raised a handsome contribution from
the gentlemen, he discovered himself, knowing them to be his good
friends; but the gentlemen could scarcely credit him, till he gave them
sufficient proofs of his being the real Bampfylde Moore Carew.
The next morning he went to Sir John Tynte, and made the same complaint
he had done the night before at the Swan in Bridgewater: the servant
telling him Sir John would come forth soon, he waited till he did so, and
then discovered himself; Sir John would not believe him, but at last made
him a present. He afterwards visited Justice Grose, of Bromfylde, who
presently knew him, and made him very welcome; from whence, setting out
for Exeter, he visited on the road Mr. John Bampfylde, of Hesticomb, the
Rev. Mr. Boswell, and Dr. Hildyard, of Taunton, the Rev. Mr. Manifee,
Squire Bluet, of Melcombe Regis, the Rev. Mr. Newt, of Tiverton, Squire
Blundel, and Major Worth, in the neighbourhood of that place, who, being
all his particular friends, were very glad to see him return, and treated
him very handsomely. Major Worth took a hunting with him: but he soon
found an opportunity of slipping away, and directed his steps to his own
parish of Bickley. Here he happened to meet Lady Carew; but so great was
his respect for her, that he, who used to attempt every thing, had not
courage to accost this lady, and therefore turned off to a place called
Codbury, the seat of Mr. Fursdon. As soon as he came there, he was known
to Mr. Fursdon's sister, who told him he should not stir thence till her
brother came home; soon after Mr. Fursdon returned, and brought with him
one Mr. Land, of Silverton: he was very much surprised to see him, and
treated him very generously, making him a very handsome present, as did
also Mr. Land. He abode there that night, went a hunting with Mr.
Fursdon the next day, and likewise to see Mr. Bampfylde Rode, at Stoke,
who would not believe Mr. Carew had been in America; he treated him
handsomely, and made him a present at his departure. He came next into
Exeter, the place he had sailed from to Maryland, and going into St.
Peter's church-yard, saw Sir Henry Northcote, Dr. Andrews, and two other
gentlemen, who were walking there; he accosted them with a God bless you,
Sir Harry, Dr. Andrews, and the rest of the company. Sir Harry, staring
very wistfully at him, cried, are you flesh and blood? why you can never
have been in America? Dr. Andrews then asked if it was Carew; and the
report being spread that he was in Exeter, it drew a number of spectators
to see him; and amongst the rest merchant Davy himself, who asked him, in
a very great hurry, if the ship was cast away. No, no, said he, I have
been in America, have had the honour of seeing your factor, Mr. Mean, and
saw Griffiths sold for a thousand weight of tobacco: did I not tell you
that I would be at home before Captain Froade? He then gave an account
of several particulars, which convinced the gentlemen he had really been
in America. Mr. Davy asked him, if he had been sold before he ran away;
and he replying he had not, the merchant told him jeeringly, that he was
his servant still, that he should charge him five pounds for his passage,
and five pounds for costs and charges, besides Captain Froade's bill. He
next inquired where he had left Captain Froade. Mr. Carew told him he
had left him in Miles's river. The gentlemen then gave him money, as did
likewise merchant Davy.
Two months after this came home Captain Froade, laden with tobacco. As
soon as he came to an anchor, several gentlemen of Exeter went on board,
and inquired what passage, and where he left Mr. Carew? Damn him,
replied the captain, you will never see him again: he ran away, was
taken, put into New Town gaol, brought back again, and whipped, had a
pot-hook put upon him, ran away with it on his neck, and has never been
heard of since; so that, without doubt, he must either be killed by some
wild beast, or drowned in some river. At this the gentlemen fell a
laughing, telling the captain he had been at home two months before him.
Captain Froade swore it could never be; however, they confirmed it to him
that it was so.
Soon after this Mr. Carew went and paid his respects to Sir William
Courtenay, returning him many thanks for what he had furnished him with
when he sailed for Maryland; adding, he had been as good as his word, in
coming home before Captain Froade. Sir William told him he thought he
had; and then called to his butler to give him something to drink. In a
little time Sir William came to him again, with his brother, Mr. Henry
Courtenay, who conducted him to a noble parlour, where was a great
company of fine ladies sitting, whom our hero accosted with all that
respect which is ever due to beauty and merit. Sir William then asked
him jocosely if he could find out which was his dove. He replied, he
knew some of the ladies there; and that, unless his judgment deceived
him, such a lady, (singling out one of them) was the happy person. You
are right, replied Sir William; this is indeed my dove, and turtle-dove.
Sir William then put a piece of money in his hat, as did Mr. Courtenay,
and bid him go round to the ladies, which he did, addressing them in a
very handsome manner; and, we need not add, gathered a plentiful harvest,
as the fair sex are, in general, so much inclined to humanity and
good-nature. Sir William asked him if he would not drink to the ladies'
health? and filled him up a bumper of excellent wine; he then took his
leave of this truly noble and hospitable gentleman.--Here, reader, if my
pen were equal to the task, I would describe to you one whom, in this
degenerate age, thou mayest gaze at as a prodigy; one who, like the
phoenix rising from the ashes of his father, inherits all the virtues of
his glorious ancestors; I would describe to you magnificence without
extravagance, pomp without ostentation, plenty without luxury or riot,
and greatness undiminished by little pride; I would set before you
something more than a king, surrounded and imprisoned by worthless and
impervious favourites, fawning sycophants, and tasteless grandeur. Such
are the scenes within thy walls, such thy master, happy Powderham!
From hence our hero went to Squire Bell's, of Mamheap; in the way he met
with Mr. Jackson, his steward, who was lame with the gout; he presently
knew Mr. Carew, gave him half-a-crown, and told him, he would hop back on
his crutches to give him something to drink. While they were drinking a
glass, the steward advised him to make application to the squire.
Presently after, he came out, and Mr. Carew soon began his attack upon
him. Pray, who are you? said the justice. I am a poor unfortunate West
Indian, replied he, who has been shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, and
was taken up by a Bristol ship. Ay, ay, you are one of Carew's gang, I
suppose, said the justice, but he is transported. Bless your honour,
returned he, I am no impostor; I have heard that he was a very great one,
and I think deserved more than transportation. Well, well, there's a
shilling for you, replied the justice, and go about your business.
From hence he steered towards Mr. Oxenham's, at New-house: when he came
near the house, he pulled off his shirt, and gave it to an old man he
met, as though he had been amazed: then marched up to the house, and just
at the stable met Mrs. Oxenham and another lady, whom he immediately
accosted with a doleful complaint of being a poor shipwrecked mariner.
Mrs. Oxenham told him, she should have taken him for Bampfylde Moore
Carew, but she knew him to be transported. He was not disconcerted at
this, but readily told her, with great composure, that his name was
Thomas Jones, belonging to Bridport, in Dorsetshire. The ladies gave
each a shilling, and then bid him to go into the house, where he had
victuals set before him; before he went away the lady sent him a Holland
shirt. Being thus equipped, he inquired out the churchwardens of the
parish, and by the same story got a crown of them. From hence he went to
Lord Clifford's, at Uggbroke, in the parish of Chudleigh: here he sent in
a petition to my Lord as an unfortunate Roman Catholic, and received a
guinea; he lay that night at Sandy-gate, and behaved as a Roman Catholic,
under the name of William Passmore.
The next day, at Moll Upton's, in Newton Bushel, he met with one of the
sisters of that order of mendicants commonly called cousin Betties; and
he, having an inclination to pay a visit to Sir Thomas Carew, at Hackum,
soon made an agreement with the cousin Betty to exchange habits for that
day. The barber was then called in to make his beard as smooth as his
art and razor could make it, and his hair was dressed up with ribbons;
thus metamorphosed, our hero set out, having a little dog under his arm.
Being come to Sir Thomas Carew's, he rushed into the house without
ceremony, demanding his rent in an imperious tone. None of the
men-servants being in the way, the women first ran one way and then
another; but he, taking notice of this confusion, continued to act the
mad woman, beating his head against the wall, kissing the dog, and
demanding his rent; at last, one of the women-servants came out, crying,
lady, you are welcome to the rent, and gave him a crown; but he was not
to be removed so easily, for now he fell a raving again, and demanded
some merry-go-down; they then brought him some ale, which having drunk,
he took his leave, thanking them with a very low courtesy. From hence he
returned in his progress to parson Sandford's, of Stoke, in Tinney,
where, having entered the house with as little ceremony as before, he not
only demanded his rent, as usual, but a gown for some of his cousins:
neither would he take his leave till he had got a shilling for rent, a
good gown, and some pinners. He next called upon parson Richards, at
Coombe, in Tinney, where he got a shilling and a shift. Having thus
succeeded in his new adventure, he returned to his quarters at mother
Upton's, in Newton-Bushel, where he divided the profits of the day with
his good cousin Betty, and also passed the night very merrily with her.
The next day he restored his borrowed accoutrements to cousin Betty, and,
calling for a pen and ink, wrote a petition in the character of a poor
unfortunate soap-boiler, whose house was set on fire by the carelessness
of an apprentice, in the parish of Monksilver, not forgetting to sign it
with the names of several neighbouring gentlemen. With this fictitious
petition he went to Justice Taylor's, at Dembury, where he was handsomely
relieved: thence he went to Justice Neil's, and finding upon inquiry the
justice himself was at home, he did not venture to deliver his petition,
but begged as an unfortunate man, and was relieved with a cup of cider,
and some bread and cheese. At Darlington he assumed the character of a
rat-catcher, and sold a receipt to a gentleman's steward for a crown: and
under this character he travelled forward to Plymouth. Here, learning
that there was to be a great cock-match, he laid aside his rat-catcher's
habit, and put on that of a gentleman, and not the habit only, as too
many do, but the manners and behaviour likewise. At the cock-match, he
betted several wagers with Sir Coventry Carew, and his own brother Mr.
Henry Carew, the minister of Saltash, which he had the good fortune to
win, and left the cock-pit undiscovered by any one. Thus great is the
power of dress, which transforms and metamorphoses the beggar into a
gentleman, and the cinder wench into a fine lady; therefore let not the
little great (I mean those who have nothing to recommend them but their
equipage) pride themselves as though they had something superior in them
to the poor wretch they spurn with so much contempt; for, let me tell
them, if we are apt to pay them respect, they are solely indebted for it
to the mercer and tailor; strip them of their gaudy plumes, and we shall
not be able to distinguish them from the lowest order of mumpers. This
puts us in mind of a remarkable adventure of our hero's life, which he
always told with a great deal of pleasure.
One day, as he was begging in the town of Maiden Bradley, from door to
door, as a poor shipwrecked seaman, he saw on the other side of the
street a mendicant brother-sailor, in a habit as forlorn as his own,
begging for God's sake, just like himself. Seeing Mr. Carew, he crossed
the way, came up to him, and in the cant language, asked where he lay
last night, what road he was going, and several other questions; then,
whether he would brush into a boozing-ken and be his thrums; to this he
consented, and away they went; where, in the course of their
conversation, they asked each other various questions concerning the
country, the charitable and uncharitable families, the moderate and
severe justices, the good and queer corporations. This new acquaintance
of Mr. Carew's asked him if he had been at Sir Edward Seymour's? He
answered, yes, and had received his alms: the stranger, therefore, not
having been there, left him at the alehouse, and went thither himself,
where, having received the same alms that his new companion had, he
returned to him again.
The next day they begged through the town, one on one side of the street,
and the other on the other, each on his own separate story and account:
they then proceeded to the houses of several gentlemen in the
neighbourhood, both in one story, which was that of the stranger. Among
many others, they came to Lord Weymouth's, where it was agreed that Mr.
Carew should be spokesman: upon their coming up to the house, the
servants bid them begone, unless they could give a good account of
themselves and the countries in which they pretended to have been, for,
should Lord Weymouth come and detect them in any falsehood, he would
horse-whip them without mercy, which was the treatment to all those whom
he found to be counterfeits met with from him, and he had detected great
numbers of them, having been abroad himself. Our travellers were not the
least daunted, Mr. Carew being conscious in himself that he could give a
satisfactory account of Newfoundland, and the other affirming that he had
been at Rome, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, &c. and could give as good
a description of those countries as his lordship himself. Therefore up
they went to the kitchen door, and Mr. Carew broke ice, telling the
deplorable story of their misfortune in his usual lamentable tone. The
housekeeper at first turned a deaf ear to their supplication and
entreaty; but Mr. Carew, at the instigation of his companion, redoubled
his importunity, kneeling on one knee, and making use of all the methods
of exciting charity, of which he was capable; so that at last the
housekeeper gave them the greatest part of a cold shoulder of mutton,
half a fine wheaten loaf, and a shilling, but did it with great haste and
fear, lest his lordship should see her, and be angry. Of the butler they
got a copper of good ale, and then, both expressing their thankfulness,
departed.--Having reached some distance from the house there arose a
dispute who should carry the victuals, both being loath to incumber
themselves with it, as having neither wife nor child near to give it to.
Mr. Carew was for throwing it into the hedge, but the other urged that it
was both a sin and a shame to waste good victuals in that manner, so they
both agreed to go to the Green Man, about a mile from my lord's, and
there exchange it for liquor. At this alehouse they tarried for some
time, and snacked the argot; then, after a parting glass, each went his
way.
The reader cannot but be surprised when we assure him that this mendicant
companion of his was no less a person than my Lord Weymouth himself, who,
being desirous of sounding the tempers and dispositions of the gentlemen
and other inhabitants of the neighbourhood, put himself into a habit so
vastly beneath his birth and fortune, in order to obtain that discovery.
Nor was this the first time that this great nobleman had metamorphosed
himself into the despicable shape and character of a beggar, as several
of that neighbourhood can testify; but, when he went abroad into the
world in this disguise, he took especial care to conceal it even from his
own family, one servant only, in whose secrecy he greatly confided, being
entrusted therewith; and this was his valet-de-chambre, who used to
dress, shave, and perform other such offices about his lordship's person.
Mr. Carew and his noble companion having thus parted from each other, he
took his way into the woodlands towards Frome; and the disguised lord, by
a private way through the park and gardens, returned to his own house,
and there, divesting himself of his rags, put on his embroidered apparel,
and re-assumed the dignity and state to which both his birth and fortune
entitled him. I am informed, said his lordship, that two sailors have
been at my house; and, inquiring which way they went, he ordered two men
and horses to go after them, with a strict charge to bring them back to
his house, for he had heard they were impostors; and, if he found them
such, he would treat them accordingly. The servants obeyed his commands
without the least suspicion of the intricacy of this affair, and soon
came up with Mr. Carew, whom they forcibly brought up to my lord. His
lordship accosted him in a very rough stern manner, asking where the
other fellow was, and told him he should be made to find him. Mr. Carew
in the mean time stood thunder-struck, expecting nothing less than a
commitment to prison, but, upon examination, made out his story as well
as he could.
After having thus terrified and threatened him for a considerable time,
his lordship went out, and, divesting himself of the habit and character
of a nobleman, again put on his rags, and was, by his trusty
valet-de-chambre, ushered into the room where his brother-beggar stood
sweating for fear, when they compared notes together, whispering to each
other what to say, in order that their accounts might agree when examined
apart, as in effect they were. The steward took Mr. Carew aside into a
private chamber, and there pretending that the other fellow's relation
contradicted his, and proved them both to be counterfeits, he said that a
prison must be the portion of both; and indeed nothing was omitted that
might strike Mr. Carew with the greatest terror and confusion. By this
time my lord having thrown off his rags, and put on his fine apparel, Mr.
Carew was again brought into his presence to receive his final sentence;
when his lordship, having sufficiently diverted himself with the fear and
consternation of his brother mumper discovered himself to him.