travelled together, they asked each other whence they came, and what
their names were. Mr. Carew ingeniously confessed his, but my lord
disguised both his name and country; so that having accidentally met with
a mendicant of the greatest note in England, his lordship thought fit to
treat him in the manner aforesaid, which he would not have done to every
common vagrant.--However, to satisfy himself that this was the famous and
true Bampfylde Moore Carew, for many impostors had usurped his name, he
sent for Captain Atkins, a gentleman of his acquaintance in the
neighbourhood, who went to school with Mr. Carew at Tiverton. This
gentleman was very glad to see his old school-fellow, and assured his
lordship that it was really Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, upon which his
lordship very nobly entertained him at his house for the space of three
days, and gave him an excellent suit of clothes and ten guineas; but,
remembering the trouble they had, and the loss they were at to dispose of
the shoulder of mutton and bread which the housekeeper had given them, as
likewise the resolution Mr. Carew had once taken to throw it away, he
called his housekeeper, and strictly charged her never to give away a
morsel of victuals more, but bestow the alms in money only, rightly
judging that to be more acceptable to beggars than the best of
provisions, the greatest part of which they either waste, give away, or
exchange for an inconsiderable quantity of drink, as my lord and Mr.
Carew had done. His lordship took Mr. Carew to Warminster horserace, and
there recommended him to many honourable gentlemen, who were very liberal
to him. He several times after made bold to call upon his lordship in
his rounds, and at every visit received a guinea, and a hearty welcome at
his house. His lordship would frequently make himself merry with the
story, and jocosely say, that he was more expert in the science of
mumping than even Mr. Carew himself.
Not long after this, Mr. Carew came to Biddeford again, where he had been
some time before, and delivered the compass to Captain Haley's wife, who
immediately burst into tears upon seeing it, supposing her husband was
dead: he then went to the Dolphin, where, as he was drinking, he saw some
gentlemen in the Butchers' Row, and asked the landlord who they were.
Being told they were the Captains Harvey, Hopkins, and Burd,--Go, said
he, and give my duty, and tell them Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew is at your
house. The landlord went accordingly, and soon returned with the
captains. They were glad to see our hero, who returned them thanks for
the favours he had received from them in America. The captains asked him
a great many questions respecting his travels through the Indians'
country, &c., and told him they never thought he could have gone through
that dangerous undertaking, but expected to have seen him return again.
He then gave them an account of every thing to their satisfaction,
telling them he had followed their directions in every point. They
afterwards treated him very handsomely, and made a collection for him.
The captains then going out, and reporting that he was in town, a great
concourse of people assembled to see him, to the no little profit of the
landlord; for our hero ordered that no one should be admitted to see him,
till he had first drunk a quart of ale in the house.
Some time after this, he disguised himself like a poor miserable decrepid
old man, and took to selling of matches and gathering old rags.
Happening to meet a brother ragman at Wiveliscombe, they joined company,
and agreed to travel to Porlock together. Just as they came to
Gutter-Hall, night coming on a-pace, they proposed taking up their
quarters there. The landlord told them he had no lodging to spare, but
if they would go half-a-mile farther, and lie in a haunted house, they
should have their lodging free cost, and good bread, cheese, and cider,
with a rasher of bacon into the bargain. The ragmen very readily
accepted this offer, and, accompanied by the landlord, repaired to Farmer
Liddon's house. When they came there the landlord told the farmer he had
brought two men who would lie in the haunted house. The farmer received
them very gladly, and asked them if they were sure they had courage
enough to do it, adding he would give them twenty shillings if they could
lay the old woman. Never fear, farmer, replied Mr. Carew; we have not
only courage to speak to, but learning enough to lay, the old woman, so
that you shall never hear of her more. Things being thus agreed on, the
farmer's son, a great stout fellow, willing to show his courage, in a
very bold manner offered to keep them company. Having provided
themselves with firing, cider, bread, cheese, and bacon, they adjourned
to the haunted house, but not before Mr. Carew had taken an opportunity
of going into the yard, and filling his pockets with large stones. When
they came to the haunted house, they made a good fire, and he and his
companion sat down, eating and drinking very merrily; but the farmer's
son, beginning to have some terrors upon him, had little stomach to eat.
About the middle of the night, when every thing is most silent and
solemn, at that time when every whisper of the mind is apt to create
fear, Mr. Carew took an opportunity of throwing a stone unseen up the
stairs, which, coming rumbling down again with a frightful noise, might
have at that time struck a panic into the most courageous heart. The
farmer's son turned pale, and leaped from his chair in a great fright,
believing that the old woman was making her entrance; but nothing
appearing, the same awful silence and stillness as before took place,
only fear staid behind in the farmer's breast, and Mr. Carew and his
companion kept mute, as though in expectation of what would follow; but
soon this solemn silence was disturbed by a loud thump at the door; again
the farmer leaped from his seat, crying out, O Lord! save and deliver us!
At the same time, unable to command those passages at which fear is apt
to issue out, he caused a smell almost as bad as Satan himself is said to
bring along with him. Mr. Carew caught him in his arms, and, holding his
head close to his breast, cried, don't be afraid, Mr. Liddon, for I will
make the old woman fly; at the same time, pretending to conjure her, he
repeated three times very solemnly, "Hight spirito diabolico rubro
oceano," whilst his companion went a little aside, and answered in a
squeaking tone, like Joan Liddon, unless my will is fulfilled, I will
tear them in pieces.
Soon after cock-crowing, there was another huge blow at the door, and
then they bid the farmer look up, telling him the old woman was gone;
however, he would not let go his hold of Mr. Carew. Just as day-light
appeared, his companion went forth, and picked up the stones from the
stairs, entry, &c. He had scarce done this, before the old farmer came
down, to see if his son was alive, and if they had seen old Joan. He
accosted them with, How do you do? how have you spent the night? O
father, replied the son, most terribly indeed. You can't conceive what
rattlings and noises we heard; but this good man secured me in his arms.
But what smell is this? replied the father; sure old Joan stinks of
brimstone, or something worse, if she brought this along with her. Ay,
father, father, said the son, I believe you would have raised as bad a
smell as I have done, if you had been here. Well, well, said the father,
perhaps I might; but have you spoken to old Joan? Yes, indeed, replied
Mr. Carew. And what does the old woman say? she says, if her will is not
exactly fulfilled as she desired, she will never leave haunting you; but,
if it be, all shall be well and quiet. They then went to the farmer's
house, where they were made very welcome, and received the twenty
shillings, according to promise, the farmer requesting they would stay
the next night by themselves, for he believed his son would have no
stomach to go with them, and tell the old woman every thing should be
fulfilled according to her will, and they should be satisfied to their
content. They accordingly passed the next night there very merrily, and
received another twenty shillings in the morning, which was well bestowed
too by the farmer; for ever after the house had the reputation of being
quiet.
Mr. Carew and his companion then set forward for Porlock, where they
parted company; and Mr. Carew coming into Porlock, met Dr. Tanner, a
relation of old Joan Liddon's, and his brother, Parson Tanner, who was
with him. After the usual salutations, he very composedly asked if they
had heard the news of the conjuring old Joan? The doctor replied they
had heard something of it, and that he was resolved either to send or
take a ride over himself, to inquire into the truth of it. He confirmed
it to them, which occasioned a great deal of discourse about it, and who
these two conjurers could be.
We should, perhaps, have passed over in silence this adventure of our
hero's, but that an author of the first rate has taken a great deal of
pains to frighten a poor soldier, and entertain his readers by dressing
up his hero in a white coloured coat, covered with streams of blood;
though we cannot well conceive how those streams of blood, which ran down
the coat in the morning, should appear so very visible twenty hours
after, in the middle of the night, and at a distance by the light of a
single candle; notwithstanding this great author has very judicously
acquainted us with a light-coloured coat; but however this may be, we are
of opinion that the farmer's son in the above adventure is a more
entertaining character than the soldier in the renowned history we are
speaking of; and that our hero, whenever it was needful, could make a
much more tremendous figure than Mr. Jones in his white-coloured coat
covered with streams of blood. The following is a sufficient instance.
Mr. Carew being in the town of Southmolton, in Devon, and having been ill
used by a great officer, vulgarly called the bellman, was resolved to
take comical revenge. It was about that time reported and generally
believed, that a gentleman of the town, lately buried, walked by night in
the church-yard; and, as the bellman was obliged by his nightly duty to
go through it just at the hour of one, that well-known accustomed time of
spectres issuing from their graves, Mr. Carew repaired there a little
before the time, and, stripping to his shirt, lay down upon the
gentleman's grave. Soon after, hearing the bellman approach, he raised
himself up with a solemn slowness; which the bellman beholding, by the
glimmering light of the moon through some thick clouds, he was harrowed
up (as Shakspeare expresses it) with fear and wonder, and an universal
palsy seized every limb; but, as nature most commonly dictates flight in
all such cases, he retreated with as much haste as his shaking limbs
would allow; yet, as fear naturally inclines us to look back upon the
object we are flying from, he several times cast his eyes behind him, and
beheld the ghost follow him with a solemn march. This added fresh vigour
to his flight, so that he tumbled over graves and stones, not without
many bruises, and at length dropped his bell, which the ghost seized upon
as trophy, and forbore any farther pursuit. The bellman, however, did
not stop till he reached home, where he obstinately affirmed he had seen
the gentleman's ghost, who had taken away his bell, which greatly alarmed
the whole town; and there were not wanting many who afterwards frequently
heard the ghost ringing the bell in the church-yard.
It was some time before the bellman had the courage to resume his usual
nightly rounds through the church-yard; but after a while, his fear
abating, he ventured upon it again, and met with no interruption. Mr.
Carew happening about a year afterwards to be in Southmolton again, was
afresh insulted by the bellman, which made him resolve to give him a
second meeting in the church-yard; taking therefore the opportunity of a
very dark night, he dressed himself in a black gown, put a great fur cap
upon his head, and at the usual time of the bellman coming, repaired to
the church-yard, holding in his mouth, by the middle, a stick lighted at
both ends, at the same time rattling a heavy iron chain. If the
bellman's terror before was great, it was now much greater; and indeed
the appearance, joined to the rattling of the chain, was so hideous, that
the boldest soldier might have been terrified by it, without any
imputation of cowardice. The bellman fled away with all the wings of
fear, the spectre following him at a distance, rattling the chain with a
most hideous noise; hence the bellman concluded himself to be haunted by
the devil, and declined ever after his nocturnal employment.
About this time Mr. Carew met with one Mr. Philips, a celebrated limner
in Porlock, who showed him a great many pictures of different likenesses,
and asked him if he knew any of them. He pointed out his old
school-fellow, Edward Dyke, Esq., and Sir Thomas Carew. Mr. Philips then
asked him if he would sit for his picture, as he had been desired to draw
it for Mr. Copplestone Bampfylde; which our hero agreeing to, he went the
next day, and the following, to sit for the picture, undisguised. When
it was finished, Mr. Philips desired him to come again another time in
his mumping dress, which he accordingly promised to do.
After this he went to Minehead, and called on several of his old
acquaintance, viz. Dr. Bell, Parson Beer, and the Collector, who all
treated him very kindly. Having raised contributions from these
gentlemen, he repaired to his quarters, and desired them to lend him a
pair of trowsers. Having a mind to try some of the neighbouring country
parishes, he pretended to be a cast-away seaman, 3500 miles from home,
and picked up a great deal of money, and seven or eight pounds of bacon,
which he brought to his quarters, and gave as a recompense for the loan
of the trowsers.
Some days after he met with an old female acquaintance, who had a young
child with her, at a place called Embercomb, with whom joining company,
they came into Dunster, and lay at private lodgings. The next day, being
willing to indulge his companion, he borrowed her child, a gown, and one
of her petticoats. Thus accoutred, with the child in his arms, he
returned to Minehead among the gentlemen he had so lately received
contributions from; and pretending to be an unfortunate woman, whose
house had been burnt at Chadleigh, and giving a good account of that
place and its inhabitants to those who questioned him, coughing very
violently, and making the child cry, he got a great deal of money,
clothes for the child, and victuals. On his return to Dunster, he gave
the mother of the child the clothes, and the greatest part of the money
he had obtained in his trip; neither was this method new to him, for he
had long before this taught his own daughter, a little infant, to say,
"drowned in a boat," as often as he or any other person asked her what
was become of her mother, or mammy. Having made her perfect in this
lesson, he set out with her upon his back, and pretended to have been a
sailor on board a vessel that had been lately lost on the coast of Wales,
when most of the ship's crew and passengers were drowned, among whom, he
said, was the mother of the tender infant at his back, and that he had
saved himself and the infant by swimming. By this story he pocketed a
great deal of money every where, especially, as by way of confirmation,
when he was telling of it, he would turn and ask the babe, where is your
poor mammy, my dear, my jewel? To which the babe would reply, drowned in
the boat; which so affected all that heard it, that it not only drew
their purse but their tears also.
From Dunster he went through the country to Ilfracombe, where he inquired
for a passage to Ireland. He was told there was no vessel going to
Ireland, but that he might have a passage for Wales, which he soon
resolved upon, and, after waiting upon the collector and some other
friends in Ilfracombe, set sail for Swansea. He had no sooner landed
there, than he repaired to the Rev. Mr. Griffy of that place, in the
character of a cast-away seaman, a native of Devonshire; and, as he gave
a particular account of Mr. Griffy's son, the minister of Bishop's
Nympton, he was made very welcome, and handsomely relieved, and by his
recommendations obtained a great deal of money in the town.
From thence he went in the same character to Lord Mansell's, at
Cowbridge, and other places, and returned to Swansea. Thence he set out
again, travelling through the country to Tenby, where, hearing of one
Captain Lott, he waited upon him with the same story, but with the
addition of his name being John Lott, whereby he soon got half-a-crown
and a good welcome. He next set out for Carmarthen, and raised a great
deal of money from the Welsh gentry, pretending now to be an unfortunate
sailor belonging to Ireland, who had been cast away near Portland Race,
coming from Bilboa. He proceeded upon the same story to Aberystwyth and
Port Ely, where he chanced to meet with a brother of the mendicant order,
to whom he was well known; they inquired of each other's success, and
many other particulars, and agreed to join company for some time. Mr.
Carew now got a cere-cloth of pitch, which he laid to his arms, with a
raw beef-steak at the top, covered over with white bread and tar, which
has the exact appearance of a green wound. They still continued in the
same story of being cast away, but, added to it, that he had fallen off
the rigging, and wounded his arm in that manner. They travelled together
with good success as far as Shadwell, where they parted company.
Our hero made the best of his way to Holyhead, and begging a passage on
board the packet to Dublin, after a fine trip landed at King's End, near
that city. His first inquiry here was for an old acquaintance, and in
particular for one Mr. Crab, and Lord Annesly, who had been schoolfellows
with him at Tiverton. He found my Lord Annesly lived a mile from the
town, but did not see him the first day, being gone to Blessington, as
the servants told him. Accordingly he set out for that town the next
day, where he found my lord at a tavern with several officers; he went
in, and told the tavern-keeper he wanted to speak with his lordship; but,
as his appearance was none of the best, the tavern-keeper did not like to
deliver this message to my lord, but asked what his business was. Tell
him, said he, that I am an old school-fellow of his, and want to see him.
My lord, being told this, came out with two gentlemen, and inquired who
he was; which our hero told him. Ha! Mr. Carew, said his lordship, is it
you, mon? walk in, walk in. What, said one of the captains, is this old
Carew? the very same, replied my lord. After he had sat down for some
time, and talked over several old affairs with my lord, one of the
captains asked him if he could get him a good pointer. Ay, ay, that he
can, replied his lordship; for, by my saul, mon, he and I have stolen
many a dog, and lain in many a hay tallet, in our youthful days. Then
turning to Mr. Carew, he told his fame was spread as much in Ireland as
in England. Indeed it is so, replied one of the captains. His lordship
then asked him how he found him out there. He replied, he had been
directed there by their old school-fellow, Crab. Well, said my lord, you
shall go home along with me. He desired to be excused, as he designed to
go and see lord St. Leger, who was another of his school-fellows; but my
lord swore by his saul he should go home along with him, and visit Lord
St. Leger another time; accordingly a good horse was provided for him,
and they all set out for Dublin.
The next day my Lord Annesly took him to his own house. During his abode
here, which was about a fortnight, our hero received great civilities
from the Irish gentry; Lord Annesly introducing him to all the chief
company in the city, as the man they had heard so much talk of. One day
Mr. O'Brien, a gentleman of great fortune, being in company, asked Mr.
Carew if he had ever been on board the Yarmouth man-of-war; he replied,
that he had been in her up the Baltic. The gentleman asked if he
remembered a young gentleman about fourteen years of age, very fat, and
who had a livery-servant to wait on him. He replied, that he remembered
him very well, and that he was blest with as beautiful a face as any
youth he ever saw. The gentleman then asked him if he recollected what
became of him; which he answered, by saying he died at Gosport a day or
two after they landed; and that Mr. Price, of Pool, composed a Latin
epitaph for him; at which the gentleman could not refrain letting fall
some tears, it being his own brother he was speaking of. He then asked
what men-of-war were with them at that time; all which he gave a very
good account of, saying, Sir Charles Wager and Rear-Admiral Walton
commanded; Sir Charles carrying a red flag at the fore-topmast head of
the Torbay, and the latter a blue at the mizen of the Cumberland, both
eighty-gun ships. The gentleman replied, he was satisfied, for he had
given a very faithful account of every thing; he then made Mr. Carew a
present to drink his health when he came to England, as Lord Annesly said
he would supply him while he was in Ireland. A great hunting-match being
proposed, Lord Annesly told them that Mr. Carew could make one with the
best of them at the diversion, upon which he was desired to make one of
the party. Accordingly, they set out very early next morning, and had
fine sport, he exerting all his abilities, though he was afraid of riding
into some bogs, of which the country is full. When the chase was ended,
they all went to Lord Annesly's to dinner, and the company allowed him to
be an excellent sportsman.
Lord Annesly afterwards took him to Newry and many other places,
introducing him to much company. At length he desired liberty to go and
see his old school-fellow, Lord St. Leger, at Donnerail, which Lord
Annesly would not consent to, unless he promised to call upon him again
on his return; which agreeing to do, he sent his servant with him as far
as Blessington. Parting with the servant here, he travelled to Kilkenny;
thence to Cashel, (where is a fine seat belonging to Lord Mark Ker,)
Clonmel, and Cahir, where our hero was taken dangerously ill. It would
be unpardonable not to mention the hospitality he was treated with here.
His good landlady, finding him so ill, sent for the minister of the place
to come and pray by him, which he accordingly did, and at going away
clapped half-a-crown into his hand, and soon after sent an apothecary to
him, who administered what medicines were proper for him, which had so
good an effect as to enable him to get upon his legs: however, they would
not let him proceed forward for several days, lest he should relapse; and
before he set out, the minister of the parish sent his clerk round the
place to make a collection for the stranger. At length, being perfectly
recovered, he set out for Lord St. Leger's. When he came there, and was
introduced, my lord presently recollected him, and cried, Why sure, and
doubly sure, it is Carew! He then asked how long he had been in Ireland;
adding, he hoped he would stay with him for some time. His lordship made
him very welcome, and they talked over some of the merry pranks they had
played together. Mr. Carew inquired if Sir Matthew Day, another of their
old schoolfellows, was alive. His lordship told him he was dead; but
that there was a young gentleman would be glad to see any old friend of
his father's. He abode with Lord St. Leger about a fortnight, being
entertained in the kindest manner possible; at his departure, my lord
made him a handsome present, and gave him a good suit of clothes, with a
recommendatory letter to young Mr. Day.