next day, and travelled towards Bath, acting the madman all the way till
he came to Bath. As soon as he came there, he inquired for Dr. Cooney's,
and being directed to his house, found two brother mendicants at the
door; after they had waited some time, the servant brought each of them a
halfpenny, for which his brother mendicants were very thankful; but Mr.
Carew gave his halfpenny to one of them; then knocking at the door, and
the maid coming out again, Tell your master, said he, I am not a
halfpenny man, but that my name is Bampfylde Moore Carew, king of the
mendicants, which being told, the Dr. came out with one of his daughters,
and gave him sixpence and a mug of drink, for which he returned thanks.
The next day he went to Mr. Allen's seat, near Bath, and sent in a
petition as from a poor lunatic, by which he got half-a-crown. From
thence he made the best of his way to Shepton Mallet, when, calling at
Mr. Hooper's, and telling the servant who he was, the mistress ordered
him in, and inquired if he was really the famous Bampfylde Carew; she
then gave him five shillings, and ordered him to be well entertained. At
Shepton Mallet our hero had the pleasure of meeting with his beloved
wife, to their mutual joy and satisfaction; and finding several brethren
of the order there, they passed some days together with much mirth and
harmony.
Going near Rye, in Sussex, (where, upon account of their extraordinary
merit, the two brothers L---d are perpetually mayors,) he met two of his
mendicant subjects, who acquainted him there was no entering the town,
but with extreme hazard to his person, upon account of the severity which
the mayor exercised towards all of their community. Mr. Carew's wife
hearing this, entreated him in the most tender manner not to venture into
the town; but as his great heart always swelled when any thing hazardous
presented, and as he was willing to show his subjects, by example, that
nothing was too difficult for industry and ingenuity to overcome, he was
resolved to enter Rye; which he did with a very slow, feeble, and
tottering pace, stopping every minute by the most violent fits of
coughing, whilst every limb shook with an universal palsy, his
countenance appearing rather to be the property of some one among the
dead than to belong to any living body: in this manner he crept along to
the mayor's house, and in a most lamentable moan begged some relief. The
mayor, seeing so deplorable a figure, said he was indeed a real object of
pity; and therefore gave him a shilling, and liberty to go through the
town; which he did with no little profit, and with great applause from
the mendicants, when they heard of his success.
Steering from thence to Dungeness, he found a vessel ready to sail for
Boulogne, on board of which he embarked, and landed safe there; and found
it so thronged with English soldiers, (it being soon after the reducing
of the army,) that had he not known the contrary, he should have thought
himself in some town in England. Some of the soldiers knowing him, cried
out, Here's Bampfylde Moore Carew! upon which they took him along with
them to their quarters, and they passed the day very merrily: the
soldiers expressed great discontent at their being discharged, swearing
they would never come over to England any more, saying, if they had not
come over then, they should have been either starved or hanged. He then
inquired how they lived in France? They replied, never better in their
lives. From Boulogne he set off for Calais; where he likewise found a
great multitude of English soldiers, and more were daily coming in.
Whilst he was here, the Duke of Richmond arrived, in his way to Paris;
who, seeing many English soldiers, asked some of them why they came
there? to which they replied, they should have been either starved or
hanged if they had staid in England. Mr. Carew intended to have paid his
respects to his grace, but had not an opportunity; and soon after, being
taken very ill, was obliged to desist from his intended design of making
a tour through France, Germany, &c.
He therefore took a passage in the packet-boat from Calais, and landed at
Dover; from hence he went to Folkstone, where he got a pass and relief
from the mayor, under the name of John Moore, a native of St. Ives, in
Cornwall, who had been cast away on the coast of France, in a vessel
coming from Ireland. Having borne this character as long as suited his
inclination, he metamorphosed himself again, and appeared in quite a
different shape. He now wore a full handsome tie-wig, but a little
changed by age; a good beaver hat, somewhat duffy; a fine broad-cloth
coat, but not of the newest fashion, and not a little faded in its
colour. He was now a gentleman of an ancient family and good estate, but
reduced by a train of uncommon misfortunes. His venerable looks, his
dejected countenance, the visible struggles between the shame of asking
and the necessity which forced him to it, all operated to move the pity
of those he applied to, which was generally shown by handsome
contributions, for few could think of offering mites to a gentleman of so
ancient a family, and who had formerly lived so well; and indeed how much
soever we may envy the great in their prosperity, we are as ready to
relieve them in their misfortunes.
Mr. Carew happening to be in the city of Wells, in Somersetshire, on a
Sunday, was told that the bishop was to preach that morning: upon which
he slips on a black waistcoat and morning-gown, and went out to meet the
bishop as he was walking in procession, and addressed himself to his
lordship as a poor unhappy man, whose misfortunes had turned his brain;
which the bishop hearing, gave him five shillings. From Wells he steered
to Bridgewater, but did not appear in the day-time, and went only in the
evenings upon his crutches, as a poor lame man, not being known by any
one till he discovered himself.
Having heard that young Lord Clifford, his first cousin, (who had just
returned from his travels abroad,) was at his seat at Callington, about
four miles from Bridgewater, he resolved to pay him a visit. In his way
thither resided Parson C---, who being one whom nature had made up in a
hurry without a heart, Mr. Carew had never been able to obtain any thing
of him, even under the most moving appearance of distress, but a cup of
small drink. Stopping now in his way, he found the parson was gone to
Lord Clifford's, but being saluted at the door by a fine black spaniel,
with almost as much crustiness as he would have been, had his master been
at home, he thought himself under no stronger obligation of observing the
strict laws of honour, than the parson did of hospitality; and therefore
soon charmed the crossness of the spaniel, and made him follow him to
Bridgewater; for it is very remarkable "that the art has been found of
taming the most savage and ill-natured brutes, which is generally
attended with success; but it requires a much higher skill, and is but
seldom successful, to soften the ill-nature and inhumanity of man:
whether it is that the brutes are more capable of receiving instruction,
or whether the ill-nature of man exceeds that of the brutes, we cannot
well determine."
Having secured the spaniel, and passed the night merrily in Bridgewater,
he set out the next morning for Lord Clifford's, and in his way called
upon the parson again, who very crustily told him he had lost his dog,
and supposed some of his gang had stolen him: to which Mr. Carew very
calmly replied, What was he to his dog, or what was his dog to him? if he
would make him drink it was well, for he was very dry: at last, with the
use of much rhetoric, he got a cup of small drink; then, taking leave of
him, he went to the Red Lion, in the same parish, where he staid some
time. In the mean time down ran the parson to my Lord Clifford's, to
acquaint him that Mr. Carew was in the parish, and to advise him to take
care of his dogs; so that Mr. Carew, coming down immediately after, found
a servant with one dog in his arms, and another with another: here one
stood whistling and another calling, and both my lord and his brother
were running about to seek after their favourites.
Mr. Carew asked my lord what was the meaning of this hurry, and if his
dogs were cripples, because he saw several carried in the servants' arms:
adding, he hoped his lordship did not imagine he was come to steal any of
them. Upon which his lordship told him, that parson C--- had advised him
to be careful, as he had lost his spaniel but the day before. It may be
so, replied he: the parson knows but little of me, or the laws of our
community, if he is ignorant that with us ingratitude is unknown, and the
property of our friends always sacred. His lordship, hearing this,
entertained him very handsomely, and both himself and his brother made
him a present.
There being about this time a great fair at Bridgewater, in the county of
Somerset, our hero appeared there upon crutches as a poor miserable
cripple, in company with many of his subjects that were full as
unfortunate as himself, some blind, some deaf, some dumb, &c., among whom
were his old friends and school-fellows Martin, Escott, and Coleman. The
mayor of that corporation, a bitter enemy to their community, jocosely
said, that he would make the blind see, the deaf hear, and the lame walk;
and by way of preparation or beginning to this intended cure, he had them
all apprehended and confined in a dark hole, which greatly terrified them
with the apprehension of severe punishment. After one night's repose in
limbo, he sent a physician or surgeon of most profound skill and judgment
to them, who brought the keys of their melancholy apartments, and
pretending greatly to befriend them, advised them, if there were any of
them counterfeits, to make haste out of the town, or otherwise they must
expect no mercy from the mayor, unknown to whom he had privately stolen
the keys; then, unlocking the door, forth issued the disabled and infirm
prisoners; the lame threw aside their crutches and artificial legs, and
made an exceeding good use of their natural ones: the blind made shift to
see the way out of town; and the deaf themselves, with great attention,
hearkened to this their friend, and followed his advice with all possible
speed. The mayor, with the aldermen and several gentlemen, planted
themselves opposite to the prison, and were spectators to this diverting
scene, calling out to stop them, not with an intention to do them any
prejudice, but only of adding a spur to their speed: however there were
some who were ready enough to lay hold on them, and our hero, in a
struggle of this nature, left a skirt of his garment behind him, which
might be done without much violence, as we may reasonably conclude it to
have been none of the soundest; and Coleman was so closely pursued, that
he plunged into the river, and swam to the opposite shore: in short, so
well did these cripples ply their limbs, that none of them could be
taken, excepting a real object, a lame man, who, in spite of the fear and
consternation he was in, could not mend his decrepid pace: he therefore
was brought before the mayor, who, after slightly rebuking him for his
vagrant course of life, ordered him to be relieved in a very plentiful
and generous manner, and the whole corporation was exceeding kind to him.
One method of gaining his ends our hero had peculiar to himself. He used
with great intent to read the inscriptions on tombs and monuments in
church-yards, and when the deceased person had a character for piety and
charity, he would with the greatest importunity apply to his or her
surviving relations: and, if they refused an alms, he would, in the most
moving terms imaginable, implore their charity for the sake of their
deceased relation, praying they would follow the laudable and virtuous
example of their dead husband, wife, father, mother, or the like; hoping
there was the same God, the same spirit of piety, religion, and charity,
still dwelling in the house as before the death of the person deceased.
These and the like expressions, uttered in a most suppliant and pathetic
voice, used to extort not only very handsome contributions, but tears
from the person to whom he applied.
Some time after this, he engaged, at Burton, in Somersetshire, in the
habit and character of a seaman, cast away in coming from Newfoundland,
with a captain, who, by his great severity, had rendered himself the
terror of all the mendicant order; but he, relying upon his perfect
acquaintance with the country, ventured up to him, had the best
entertainment his house afforded, and was honourably dismissed with a
considerable piece of money. Captains H---h and N---n, with both of whom
our hero had sailed, were intimate acquaintances of this captain, of whom
he asked many questions, and also about Newfoundland, which country trade
he had used the most part of the time; to all which questions he gave
very satisfactory answers. This captain had detected so many impostors,
that he concluded they were all so; but, not being able to find Mr. Carew
in any one error, he was very proud of it, pitied and relieved him in an
extraordinary manner, went with him himself to the principal people of
the town, wrote him letters of recommendation to his distant relations
and friends, that lay in his road, and acted with such extraordinary
kindness, as if he thought he could never do enough; it is to be
remarked, that he passed rather for a passenger than a seaman.
In the same town lived Lord B---y, who had a son, who was captain of the
Antelope man-of-war, stationed in the West Indies, and who died on the
passage; Mr. Carew informed himself of every circumstance relating
thereto, and made it his business to meet his lordship as he came out of
church. After his first application, he gave his lordship to understand,
that he was a spectator of the burial of his son on board the Antelope;
at the same time came up this critical captain, who gave him the
character of a man of great veracity, so that his lordship gave him a
guinea, his eldest son five shillings, and also good entertainment from
the house. This happened to be a fair day; he thereupon, going into the
town, was accosted by an apothecary, who whispered him in the ear,
saying, that he knew him to be the famous Bampfylde Moore Carew, and had
most grossly imposed upon the captain and the town, but at the same time
assured him that he would not injure him, but faithfully keep the secret.
In the mean time there was an Irish quack-doctor in view, who had
gathered the whole market around him, and who, with more strength of
lungs than sense of argument, most loudly harangued, entertaining them in
a very florid manner with the sovereign virtues of his pills, plasters,
and self; and so far did he impose upon them, as to vend his packets
pretty plentifully, which the apothecary could not forbear beholding with
an envious eye, and jocularly asked Mr. Carew if he could not help him to
some revenge upon this dangerous rival and antagonist of his; which he
promised him to do effectually.
Accordingly he got a little phial, and filled it up with spirits of
turpentine; he then mixed in with the gaping auditory of this Irish
itinerant physician, who was in the midst of them, mounted on his steed
adorned with a pompous curb-bridle, with a large parcel of all-curing
medicines in his bags behind him, and was with a great deal of confidence
and success, AEsculapius like, distributing health around him: we must
observe, that our physician had taken his stand among the stalls of
orange and gingerbread merchants, shoemakers, glovers, and other such
retailers.
Mr. Carew therefore approached him, and planted himself close by the
horse, and, wetting his fingers with the spirits, rested his hand upon
the steed, as an unconcerned person might have done; at the same time
putting aside the hair, he rubbed the turpentine upon the bare flesh,
which immediately beginning to burn and smart, the afflicted quadruped
began to express his sense of pain, by flinging his hinder legs, gently
shaking himself, and other restless motions, which made the poor
mountebank wonder what had befallen his horse; but the pain increasing,
the disorderly behaviour of the steed increased proportionably, who now
began to kick, prance, stand on end, neigh, immoderately shake himself,
utterly disregarding both his bridle and rider, and running a tilt
against the stalls of oranges, gingerbread, gloves, breeches, shoes, &c.,
which he overthrew and trampled under foot; this occasioned a scramble
among the boys for the eatables, and there were some who were but too
unmerciful to the scattered goods of the poor shoemakers and glovers,
who, enraged by their several losses, began to curse the doctor and his
Rosinante, who was all this while capering, roaring, and dancing among
their oranges, panniers of eggs, &c., to the entire ruin of the
hucksters, who now began to deal very heavy blows, both on the
unfortunate horse and his distressed master. This odd spectacle and
adventure attracted the eyes and attention of the whole fair, which was
all in an uproar, some laughing, some crying, (particularly the poor
suffering pedlars,) some fighting, and others most unmercifully cursing
and swearing; to make short of the story, the doctor rode about the fair,
without either hat or wig, at the pleasure and discretion of his horse,
among the ruined and overturned stalls and the dissipated mob, who
concluded both the quack and the steed to be either mad or bewitched, and
enjoyed their frolicsome situation.
The doctor, being no longer able to keep his seat, fell headlong into the
miry street; the horse ran into a river, and rolled himself over several
times, to the entire confusion and ruin of the inestimable pills and
plasters; the doctor employed a good farrier, and after some time the
horse came to himself again. The reader may very easily judge what
glorious diversion this was for the apothecary and Mr. Carew, who were
spectators of the whole scene. He was treated handsomely upon this
account, not only by the apothecary, but all others of the same
profession in the town, and several other gentlemen.
Upon Mr. Carew's departure from Burton, the generous captain befriended
him with many recommendatory letters to friends and acquaintance, that
lay in his road, as he pretended: nay, indeed, he was never out of it;
thence he proceeded to Bristol, and other places where the letters were
directed to, and received considerable sums of money from many, on
account of these letters, which were mostly to captains of vessels, and
gentlemen that had been at sea, with whom he several times passed muster
very well; it being by desire of the captain, as was mentioned in the
letters, that they examined him.
Sometimes he and his wife, in conjunction with Coleman and his wife,
being all dressed genteelly, passed for gipseys of extraordinary
knowledge and reputation: many a poor credulous unsuspecting person
became their prey, and many a good booty they got in almost every town of
the counties of Cornwall and Devon. Once in particular, himself and
Coleman, with both their spouses, being in Buckford-sleigh, near Exeter,
one Mr. Collard, a wealthy but simple shoemaker, came to their quarters,
to consult them on a very intricate and important affair; he told them,
"that it was the opinion of every body in the country, that his
grandmother had somewhere concealed very large sums of money before her
death, and that himself, by several dreams, was confirmed in the same
opinion, and that he thought proper to advise with them upon the affair;
not doubting but they, by the help of their profound learning and
knowledge, for which they were so famous through the west, were capable
of informing him in what particular place he might find this particular
treasure, which if they would discover to him, he would give them thirty
guineas."
Our magicians, after long deliberation and consultation with their books,
told him, "that if he would that night take a walk with one of them, he
would see the spirit of his grandmother; that he must not be afraid of
the apparition, but follow it till it vanished away, and in that
individual spot of ground from which the ghost vanished, there he would
find the hidden treasure."
In order for the execution of this scheme, Coleman put a woman's cap on
his head, washed his face, and sprinkled meal on it while wet, stuck the
broken pieces of a tobacco-pipe between his teeth, and wrapping his body
in a white sheet, planted himself in the road that Collard and Mr. Carew
were to come; the moon at this time shone very bright, which gave an
additional horror to the pretended spectre. Our hero, by virtue of his
supposed profound learning and most mysterious science, spoke to it in an
unknown language, to the following effect:--"High, wort, bush rumley to
the toggy cull, and ogle him in the muns;" at which command the terrific
hobgoblin fiercely advanced up to poor Collard, and with a most ghastly
look stared him in the face; the shoemaker was greatly terrified thereat,
and shook and trembled as if a fit of the ague had been upon him, and,
creeping close to Mr. Carew, laid fast hold of his clothes, imagining he
had sufficient power to protect him from the threatening appearance of
this insolent apparition; whereupon he bid the ghost, "hike to the vile;"
and would have persuaded the frightened Collard to have followed his
departing grandmother, in order to observe the particular place from
which she vanished; but no persuasions of his could induce him to move
from his side.
They then returned to the alehouse they had left, and Mr. Carew (this
method of conjuration miscarrying through the shoemaker's fear,) cast a
figure, and informed Crispin, that, if he took up two or three planks of
the floor of his little parlour, he would there find the concealed
treasure, at the depth of about three or four feet: upon his hearing this
joyful news, the shoemaker instantly disbursed the thirty guineas, highly
extolling them as people of the profoundest skill that he had ever heard
of or conversed with: but whether he was of the same opinion when he came
to dig for the treasure, we will not take upon us to say--but we may
suppose the contrary.
Happening, a short time after this, to be in Brakeness, near Lymington,
in the character of a cast-away seaman, he went to the house of Mr.
Joseph Haze, an eminent and wealthy presbyterian parson, of whom he
begged relief, in the most earnest manner he was able, for God's sake,
with uplifted eyes and hands, and upon his bended knee; but could not
with all his importunity and eloquence obtain a crust of bread, or a
draught of small beer. Mr. Carew, not accustomed to be unsuccessful in
his applications, could by no means brook this churlishness of the
parson, and thought it highly necessary, for the benefit of his
community, that it should not go unpunished. He was a great sportsman,
and had two fine greyhounds, the one named Hector, the other Fly; and two
excellent spaniels, Cupid and Dido, and an admirable setting dog, called
Sancho. Our hero, therefore, about twelve o'clock on the same night,
paid a second visit to the parson's house, and brought away all these
fine dogs with him. And afterwards he sent a letter to the parson, to
this purpose:--
"REV. SIR,
"You err, if you suspect yourself to have been wronged of your dogs
by any of your neighbours; the cast-away seaman, who begged so
earnestly, for the love of God, to whom you would not vouchsafe a
crust of bread, or a draught of small beer, took them away, to teach
you another time to behave to unfortunate strangers more as becomes
your profession, and your plentiful circumstances."