estate of Sir William Morrice, near Launceston, in Cornwall, coming to
reside there, and hearing much talk of Mr. Carew, was very desirous of
seeing him; and he happening to come soon after into that neighbourhood,
some of the servants, who knew their master's inclinations, chancing to
see him, soon conducted him to the house, and showed him immediately into
the parlour, where Mr. Morrice was with a good deal of company. Mr.
Carew was made very welcome, and the company had a great deal of
conversation with him, during which Mr. Morrice very nicely examined
every feature in his countenance, and at last declared, that he would lay
any wager that he should know him again, come in what shape he would, so
as not to be imposed upon by him. One of the company took Mr. Morrice
up, and a wager was laid that Mr. Carew should do it within such a
limited time; this being agreed upon, Mr. Carew took his leave. He soon
began to meditate in what shape he should be able to deceive the
circumspection of Mr. Morrice; and in a few days came to the house, and
endeavoured in two or three different shapes, and with as many different
tales, to obtain charity from Mr. Morrice, but he, remembering his wager,
would hearken to none. At last, understanding that Mr. Morrice was to go
out a hunting one morning with several of the company who were present
when the wager was laid, he dressed himself like a neat old woman, and
walking in the road where they were riding along, all of a sudden he fell
down, and so well counterfeited all the distortion of the most violent
fits in such a terrible manner, that Mr. Morrice was greatly affected
with the poor creature's condition, ordering his servants to get down and
assist her, staying himself till she was brought a little to herself,
then gave her a piece of money, and ordered one of his servants to show
her his house, that she might have some refreshment there; but Mr. Carew,
having obtained what he desired, flung off the old woman, and discovered
himself to Mr. Morrice and the rest of the company, wishing them all a
good-morrow: upon which he owned that he had fairly lost the wager.
Mr. Carew, some time after this, steered his course for Oxford, where he
visited Messrs. Treby, Stanford, Cooke, and other collegians, his
particular friends, of whom he got a trencher-cap.--Having staid at
Oxford as long as was agreeable to his inclinations, he set out for
Abington, and from thence to Marlborough, having put on a pair of white
stockings, a grey waistcoat, and the trencher-cap. Thus equipped, he
pretended to be disordered in his mind; and, as his knowledge of the
Latin tongue enabled him to intermix a few Latin phrases in his
discourse, which he made very incoherent, he was in no fear of being
discovered. Under this character he, therefore, went to the minister of
Marlborough, who, seeing his dress, and finding he could talk Latin, made
no doubt but he was an Oxford scholar, whose brain was turned, either by
too much study or some misfortune; he therefore talked to him a good
deal, endeavouring to find out the cause; telling him, that, though he
was unfortunate now, things might go better with him hereafter; but he
could get nothing but incoherent answers from him: however, he gave him
half-a-crown. From hence he went to Market-Lavington, where he likewise
deceived the minister; and going forward to Warminster, he met with Dr.
Squire, and his brother, the Archdeacon of Bath, who both took him for an
Oxford scholar whose brain was turned, and relieved him as such.
The next morning he went in the same dress to Mrs. Groves, at Wincanton,
and from thence to the Rev. Mr. Birt's, at Sutton, at both of which
places he was much pitied, and handsomely relieved. He then steered for
Somerton, and visited the Rev. Mr. Dickenson; but this mask would not
avail him here, for the parson discovered him through it; but he desired
him to keep it secret till he was gone out of town, which he accordingly
did: he therefore went boldly to the Rev. Mr. Keat, and pretended to be a
scholar of Baliol College, which Mr. Keat believing, and pitying his
condition, he gave him a crown.
Next day he went to Bridgewater in the same habit, and from thence to Sir
Charles Tynte's, at Haswell: going into the court, he was met by the Rev.
Mr. Standford, who immediately knew him, and accosted him with, How do
you do, friend Carew! Soon after that came Sir Charles, who accosted him
also in the same manner. Mr. Standford and he made themselves very merry
at the character he had assumed. Well, said Sir Charles, we will make
you drink, but unless you can deceive my Bess, (so he was pleased to call
his lady,) you shall have nothing of me; but whatever she gives, I'll
double. He was then ordered into the hall, and exchanged his cap for a
hat with one of the servants; after waiting some time lady Tynte came
down. It will here be proper to observe, that this lady, though of a
very charitable disposition to her poor neighbours, having been often
deceived by mendicants, and finding few of them deserving of her charity,
had resolved to relieve no unknown objects, however plausible their tale;
but our hero, depending upon his art, was not afraid to accept of Sir
Charles's challenge. From the servants' hall he watched a proper
opportunity of accosting the lady, and she passed and repassed several
times before he could speak to her. At last, seeing her standing in the
hall talking with Sir Charles, he came behind her, and accosted her
with--God bless you, most gracious lady. The lady turned about and asked
him pretty hastily from whence he came? I am a poor unfortunate man,
replied he, who was taken by two French privateers coming from Boston,
and carried into Boulogne, where we were teased day and night to enter
into the French service, but refused to do it. And how got you from
thence? asked the lady. We took an opportunity of breaking out of the
prison, and seized upon a fishing-boat in the harbour, with which we got
safe to Lymington, being in all twenty-five of us, where we sold our
boat. What do you beg for then? if you sold your boat, you must have
money. Several of us were sick, replied he, which was very expensive.
But what countryman are you? I am an Old England man, please you, my
lady, but I have my wife in Wales. From what part? says the lady, who
was a native of Wales herself. I married, replied he, one Betty Larkey,
who lived with Sir John Morgan, and afterwards with parson Griffy, at
Swansea. Ay, did you marry Betty Larkey?--how many children have you by
her? Only one daughter, replied he. In the mean time Sir Charles and
the parson were ready to burst with containing their laughter, to see how
he managed my lady to bring her to; for his assertion of having married
Betty Larkey, who was a country-woman of my lady's, and formerly known to
her, was a loadstone which presently drew my lady's hand to her purse;
then turning to Sir Charles, she asked him if he had any small money
about him? I have none, replied Sir Charles, pretty bluntly, being
scarce able to contain himself from bursting out into laughter; so she
went up stairs, and soon returning, gave him five shillings, and asked
him to eat and drink, going out herself to call the butler. In the mean
time Sir Charles stepped nimbly into the servant's hall, and fetched the
Oxford cap, which he put on Mr. Carew's head. The lady and butler came
in immediately after, and she, seeing the cap upon his head, cried out,
God bless me! what, did you bring that from France? It is just like one
of our Oxford scholar's caps. Ay, so it is indeed, my lady, replied Sir
Charles; why don't you know who it is? It is Bampfylde Moore Carew. Ay,
ay, this is your doings, Sir Charles, said the lady; and went away
somewhat disgusted at the trick that had been put upon her. Sir Charles,
however, was as good as his word, in doubling the money his lady gave,
and parson Standford gave him half-a-crown.
Some time after this, he called upon the Miss Hawkers, of Thorn, near
Yeovil, who treated him very hospitably, and inquired what news he had
heard, it being in the late rebellion. Whilst he was talking with them,
he observed a new house almost opposite, and inquired who lived there.
They told him one parson Marks, a dissenting clergyman; upon which,
taking leave of the ladies, he stept over the way, and knocked boldly at
the door, which was opened by the parson himself. Sir, said Mr. Carew,
pulling off his hat, and accosting him with a demure countenance, I have
come three miles out of my road on purpose to call upon you. I believe,
Sir, you are acquainted with my brother, Mr. John Pike, of Tiverton,
teacher of a dissenting congregation of that place; and you have
undoubtedly heard something of his brother Roger Pike, which unfortunate
man I am, having been taken prisoner coming from Boston in New England,
by two French privateers, and carried into Boulogne, where we were
cruelly treated. Alack, alack! said the parson; pray come in, good Mr.
Roger. I am indeed very well acquainted with that worthy servant of God,
your brother, Mr. John Pike, and a gracious man he is; I have likewise
heard him mention his brother Roger. He then ordered some victuals and
drink to be instantly brought out for good Roger Pike. While he was
eating, he inquired how he got away from Boulogne. He replied, that
twenty-five of them had broken out of prison, and seized upon a vessel,
in the harbour, by which they had got safe to the English coast. Well,
said the parson, what news did you hear in France? It is reported there,
replied he, that the rebels are very powerful in Scotland, and that great
numbers are gone over to them safe from France. Stop a little, Roger,
cried the parson; and running up stairs, soon after came down with a
letter in his hand, which he read to him, wherein it was said that the
rebels were very powerful; then shaking his head very sorrowfully, cried,
indeed, Mr. Pike, I cannot be at ease, for they say they will make us
examples, on account of the 30th of January. Never fear them, Sir, said
Mr. Carew; we shall be a match for them in Devonshire and Cornwall. I am
afraid not, cries the parson, shaking his head again; I have had no rest
for thinking of them these several nights past. After some farther
discourse, he fetched Mr. Pike a good Holland shirt, and clapped a
half-guinea into his hand, entreating him to take a bed with him that
night, for that he should be heartily welcome; but he desired to be
excused, and took his leave with many thanks, and returned to Miss
Hawker's again. Well, Mr. Carew, cried the ladies, you have had a very
long conference with the parson. Ay, ay, replied he, and to good purpose
too, for this shirt and a half-guinea are the fruits of it; and then told
them in what manner he had deceived the parson, which made them laugh
very heartily; they then gave him five shillings, and promised to keep
Mr. Pike's secret for a day or two.
A few days after, the parson going over to see the ladies, they asked him
if a poor seaman had been at his house. Yes, replied the parson, it was
one Roger Pike, whose brother had a congregation in Tiverton, and whom I
am very well acquainted with. And did you give him any assistance? Yes,
I gave him a shirt and a half-guinea: and we gave him five shillings,
said the ladies, not as being Roger Pike, but as Mr. Bampfylde Moore
Carew; at which the parson was in a very great hurry, and would scarce be
convinced but that it was old Roger Pike. Thus had Mr. Carew the happy
art of suiting his eloquence to every temper and every circumstance; for
his being the brother of good Mr. Pike, of Tiverton, was as powerful a
loadstone to attract the parson, as his marrying of Betty Larkey had been
to Lady Tynte.
From hence he went to parson White's, at Cocker, where he found Justice
Proctor: here he passed for an unfortunate sailor, who had been cast away
coming from the Baltic, and was now travelling to his native place,
Tintagel, in Cornwall. Parson White asked who was minister there, he
replied, that one Atkins was curate, and that there was no other there at
that time. The justice asked but few questions, and told him he ought to
have a pass, and asked where he landed. He replied, at Dover. Had you a
pass, then, from the mayor there? We had one, said he, very readily; but
some of our company being sick, and myself in good health, I left them
the pass, and came forward by myself, they not being able to travel so
fast. Why then, says the justice, you are liable to be taken up as a
vagrant, for begging without a pass: however, we will relieve you; and if
you call upon gentlemen only, they will scarcely molest you. He returned
them a great many thanks for this civility, and then went to a tanner's
hard by, where he changed his story, and passed for a bankrupt tanner.
Here he was likewise relieved, as he touched upon the right string; for
had he passed here for an unfortunate sailor, probably his eloquence
would have had no effect.
From hence he went to the parson of East Chinock, and told him that he
belonged to a man-of-war, in which his brother was lieutenant. Being
then about dinner time, the parson asked if he could eat sea provisions,
such as pork and peas, which he readily accepting of, they sat down
together, and had a great deal of discourse about the lieutenant. Next
he went to Madam Philips, of Montacute, where happened to be Parson
Bower, of Martock, who asked him if he knew Bampfylde Moore Carew? Sir,
replied he, I am of Tintagel, in Cornwall, and know the Carews there very
well, and have heard of the wanderer you speak of, who, I'm told, is a
great dog stealer, but know not what has become of him; for some say he
is hanged. God forbid he is hanged, cried the parson, upon account of
his family; and after some other questions, he was relieved with
sixpence. Leaving Montacute, he went forward to Yeovil, having appointed
to meet his wife and daughter at the sign of the Boot, Sherborne, and
from Yeovil to Squire Hellier's, at Leweston, who treated him very
handsomely, and would have had him stay there all night, but he excused
himself, being impatient to see his wife and daughter.
As soon as he came to Sherborne, he went to his usual quarters, the sign
of the Boot, where he inquired for his wife and daughter; but how was he
thunder-struck, when he was told they were in hold, at Webb's the
bailiff! He inquired for what reason, and was informed, that four
officers had been walking all through the town to take up all strangers,
such as chimney-sweepers, tinkers, pedlars, and the like. What could our
hero do? he revolved it over and over in his mind, and at last determined
to go to Webb's, resolving either to free his wife and daughter, or else
to share their fate. When he came there, he asked to see the prisoners,
and demanded upon what account they had apprehended his wife, as she had
neither stolen nor begged in the town: this occasioned high words, and at
last ended in blows. Long did our hero maintain an unequal fight with
great valour. At length, being overpowered with numbers, he fell, but
not till his assailants had felt the force of his arms. He was kept in
safe custody that night, and the next morning taken, with the rest of the
prisoners, before Thomas Medlycott, Esq., at Milbourn Port, where they
were all examined, and all maintained their professions to be extremely
useful. The chimney-sweeper alleged, he preserved houses from taking
fire, whereby he saved whole towns, and consequently was a useful member
to his country. The tinker harangued on the usefulness of kettles, brass
pans, frying-pans, &c., and of consequence, what use he was of to the
public: and our hero declared he was the famous Bampfylde Moore Carew,
and had served his king and country both by sea and land.
The justice thought proper to send these useful men to their respective
parishes, at the public expense: accordingly Mr. Carew, with his wife and
daughter, were ordered to Bickley, in Devonshire. The Sherborne people
waited upon them to Yeovil, where they were delivered to the care of the
chief magistrate. The next day, horses being provided, they set out for
Thomas Proctor's, Esq., at Cocker: but, he refusing to sign the pass,
they proceeded to Axminster, where the magistrate refused to receive
them, on account of the pass not being signed; upon which they would have
left Mr. Carew, but he insisted upon being accomodated to the end of his
journey, they therefore adjourned to Mr. Tucker's, about two miles from
Axminster, who asked him if he had a mind to have his attendants
dismissed, or chose to have their company to Bickley; and he replying
that he did not choose to have them dismissed, Mr. Tucker signed the
warrant, and our hero, with his wife and daughter, rode all the way very
triumphantly into Bickley, where, as soon as they arrived, the bells were
set a ringing, and the greatest joy spread through all the place.
Mr. Carew remained some time at Bickley, but fresh news arriving every
day of the progress of the rebels, that insatiable curiosity which had
always actuated his breast, prompted him to go and see the army of the
rebels: he therefore, taking his leave of his wife and daughter, though
they entreated him with tears not to go to the North, made the best of
his way towards Edinburgh.
After some days travel, Mr. Carew arrived at the city of Edinburgh, which
lies in a sort of a valley, between two hills, one of which is called
Salisbury Crags, the other marks the foundation of the castle. It was
strongly walled, and is adorned with public and private buildings. At
the extremity of the east end of the city stands the palace of Holyrood
house; leaving which, a little to the left, you come through a populous
suburb to the entrance, called the Water-port. From hence, turning west,
the street goes on in a straight line through the whole city to the
castle, which is above a mile in length, and is said by the Scots to be
the largest and finest street for buildings and number of inhabitants in
Europe. From the palace door, which stands on a level with the lowest of
the plain country, this street begins to ascend very gradually, being no
where steep; but this ascent being continued for so long a way, it is
easy to understand that the furthest part must be necessarily very high;
for the castle, which stands as it were at the extremity, west, as the
palace does east, makes on all sides (that only excepted which joins it
to the city) a frightful and inaccessible precipice. The castle is
situated on a high rock, and strongly fortified with a great number of
towers, so that it is looked upon as impregnable. In the great church
they have a set of bells, which are not rung out as in England, (for that
way of ringing is not now known in this country,) but are played on by
the hand with keys, like a harpsichord, the person playing having great
leather covers for his fists, which enables him to strike with the more
force; and for the larger bells there are treddles, which he strikes with
his feet.
They play all manner of tunes very musically; and the town gives a man a
yearly salary for playing upon them, from half-an-hour after eleven till
half-an-hour after twelve every day, Sundays and holidays excepted. On
the south side of this church is a square of very fine buildings, called
the Parliament Close, the west and south side of which are mostly taken
up with the Parliament house, the several courts of justice, the council
chamber, the exchequer, the public registers, the lawyers' library, the
post-office, &c. The great church makes up the north side of the square,
and the east, and part of the south side, is built into private
dwellings, very stately, lofty, and strong, being seven stories high to
the front of the square, and the hill that they stand on having a very
deep descent; some of them are no less than fourteen stories high
backwards. Holyrood house is a very handsome building, rather convenient
than large; it was formerly a royal palace and an abbey, founded by King
David I. for the canons regular of St. Austin, who named it
Holyrood-house, or the house of the Holy Cross, which was destroyed by
Oliver Cromwell, but nobly re-edificed by King Charles the second, and of
which his grace the Duke of Hamilton is hereditary keeper; it is now
almost entirely neglected.
The entrance from the great outer court is adorned with pillars of hewn
stone, under a cupola, in form of an imperial crown, balustrated on each
side at the top. The fore part has two wings, on each side of which are
two turrets; that towards the north was built by King James V. whose name
it bears in letters of gold; and that towards the south (as well as the
rest) by Charles II, whereof Sir William Bruce was the architect. The
inner court is very stately, all of free-stone, well hewn, with a
colonade round it, from whence are entries into the several apartments;
but above all, the long gallery is very remarkable, being adorned with
the pictures of all the Scotch kings, from Fergus the first, done by
masterly hands. Here Mr. Carew met the rebels, but having no mind to
join them, he pretended to be very sick and lame; however, he accosted
them with, God bless you, noble gentlemen! and the rebels moving on to
Carlisle, he hopped after them, and from thence to Manchester, and there
had a sight of the Pretender's son, and other commanders. He afterwards
accompanied them to Derby, where a report was spread, that the Duke of
Cumberland was coming to fight them; upon which, their courage failing,
though the Pretender's son was for fighting, they retreated back to
Carlisle; upon which he thought it time to leave them, and hopped
homewards on his crutches, taking care to change his note to "God bless
King George, and the brave Duke William!" Coming into Bristol, he met
with one Mr. P---, an apothecary, who had formerly known him at St. Mary
Ottery, in Devon. Mr. P--- was very glad to see him, and took him to a
tavern, where he treated him very handsomely, and then sent for his wife,
sister, and other friends, to come and see him. They were all highly
pleased to see a man they had heard so much talk of, and, after spending
some hours very merrily with him, they would have him to try his fortune
in that city, but to take care of the mint. Accordingly he went to a
place of rendezvous of the brothers of the mendicant order in
Temple-street, equipped himself in a very good suit of clothes, and then
went upon the Exchange, as the supercargo of a ship called the Dragon,
which had been burnt by lightning off the Lizard point. By this story he
raised a very handsome contribution on the merchants and captains of
vessels, it being well known that such a ship had been burnt in the
manner he described. He then returned to his friend Mr. P---, the
apothecary, and, knocking at the door, asked if he was at home; upon
which Mr. P---, came forth, and, not knowing him again in his
supercargo's dress, made him a very low bow, and desired him to walk in.
Mr. Carew asked him if he had any fine salve, as he had met with an
accident, and burnt his elbow; upon which Mr. P--- ran behind his
counter, and reached down a pot of salve, desiring, with a great deal of
complaisance, the favour of looking at his elbow; he then discovered
himself, which occasioned no little diversion to Mr. P--- and his family,
who made him very welcome.
Going back to his quarters, he laid aside his finery, and dressed himself
more meanly, like to a labouring mechanic; he then went into the street,
and acted like a madman, talking in a raving manner about Messrs.
Whitfield and Wesley, as though he was disordered in his mind by their
preaching; calling in a furious manner at every step upon the Virgin
Mary, Pontius Pilate, and Mary Magdalen, and acting the part of a man
religiously mad. Sometimes he walked with his eyes fixed upon the
ground, and then, of a sudden, he would break out into some passionate
expressions about religion. This behaviour greatly excited the curiosity
and compassion of the people, some of whom talked to him, but he answered
every thing they said in a wild and incoherent manner; and, as compassion
is generally the forerunner of charity, he was relieved by the most of
them.
The next morning he appeared in a morning-gown, still acting the madman,
and carried it so far now, as to address himself to all the posts in the
streets, as if they were saints, lifting up his hands and eyes in a
fervent though distracted manner to heaven, and making use of so many
extravagant gestures, that he astonished the whole city. Going through
Castle-street, he met the Rev. Mr. B---c, a minister of that place, whom
he accosted with his arms thrown round him; and insisted, in a raving
manner, he should tell him who was the father of the morning star; which
frightened the parson so much, that he took to his heels and ran for it,
he running after him, till he took shelter in a house.