THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW. (continued 5)

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.”

The mayor of Weymouth, in Dorsetshire, fared little better at his hands. This gentleman was an implacable enemy to all Mr. Carew’s subjects. He therefore, happening to be in that town, and overhearing the mayor talking to a gentleman in the street, and saying that he was going to dine with Captain Colloway, of Upton, he thought this a proper opportunity for taking some revenge of the mayor, for the many indignities he had put on his subjects. Having soon got intelligence what suits of clothes the mayor had, and understanding he had a good snuff-coloured suit, he went to his house, and informed the lady mayoress that he was a seaman under misfortunes, had met with the mayor, as he was going to dinner at Captain Colloway’s, of Upton, and his honour had sent him to her, giving him orders to receive his snuff-coloured suit of clothes from her; which the good natured gentlewoman hearing, without the least scruple, quickly brought him the coat, waistcoat, and breeches. Thus our hero, by turning his natural ingenuity to account, procured a handsome suit of clothes, while, at the same time, he was revenging himself upon his enemy; fulfilling the old proverb of killing two dogs with one stone. It is unnecessary to say, that our hero departed from Weymouth forthwith.

Mr. Carew being in Bristol, at a time when there was a hot press, wherein they not only impressed seamen, but able-bodied landmen they could any where meet with, which made some fly one way, and some another, putting the city into a great rout and consternation, he, among the rest, knowing himself to have a body of rather a dangerous bigness, he was willing to secure himself as effectually as he possibly could, greatly preferring his own ease to the interest and honour of his king. He therefore set his wife and landlady to work, who with all speed, and proper attention to cleanliness, made a great number of small mutton-pies, plum-puddings, cheesecakes, and custards, which our hero, in the ordinary attire of a female vender of these commodities, hawked about the city, crying, Plum-pudding, plum-pudding, plum-pudding; hot plum-pudding; piping hot, smoking hot, hot plum-pudding. Plum-pudding echoed in every street and corner, even in the midst of the eager press-gang, some of whom spent their penny with this masculine pie-woman, and seldom failed to serenade her with many a complimentary title, such as bitch and whore.

Arriving at Squire Rhodes’s seat, near King’s-bridge in Devonshire, and knowing the squire had married a Dorsetshire lady, he thought proper also to become a Dorsetshire man, and of Lyme, which was the place of the lady’s nativity, and applied himself to the squire and his lady, whom he met both together, giving them to understand that he was lost in a vessel belonging to Lyme. The squire and his lady gave him five shillings each, for country’s sake, and entertained him very well at their own house. This was early in the forenoon, and he wished to put off his time a little, before proceeding upon another adventure.

Going from hence, he went to a public-house, called Malston-cross, about a quarter of a mile from the squire’s; he there fell into company with Squire Reynolds, Squire Ford, Dr. Rhodes, brother to the squire, and several other gentlemen, who were met there to make happy after a hunting-match, in which they had been uncommonly successful, and were much inclined to be jovial. In the afternoon there was a terrific storm of rain, thunder, and lightning, that continued with great violence for several hours: in the midst of this tempestuous weather, he (having a great mind to clear his afternoon’s expenses) stripped off all his apparel, except his nightcap, shoes, and breeches, and went to Squire Rhodes’s. Nothing could possibly look with a more deplorable appearance than this naked and wretched spectacle, in such dreadful weather: the landlord with pity regarding his destitute appearance, fetched him a shirt, as he thought, to cover his nakedness; but upon his endeavouring to put it on, it proved to be a smock belonging to the good woman of the house, which afforded a great deal of diversion to the good squire and his benevolent lady, who happened to be looking from their window enjoying the mistake; when, calling to him, and inquiring from whence he came, he pretended to have been cast away at Bigbury-bay, during the late violent tempest, in a vessel belonging to Poole, and he was the only person on board that had escaped. Squire Rhodes ordered a fine Holland shirt, and a suit of good clothes to be given to him, as also a hearty refreshing dram; and then, kindly giving him five shillings, dismissed him with every mark of commiseration for his unfortunate condition, not in the least suspecting him to be the poor Lyme man, whom both his lady and himself had been so generous in relieving his wants in the morning. Having succeeded so much to his satisfaction in levying two contributions, in one day, on the benevolent Squire Rhodes and his lady, he quickly determined on making another trial upon their good-nature: for which purpose he retired to the nearest house which was frequented by the members of his community, where he dressed himself as a farmer, and speedily returned to the squire’s, to whose presence he was admitted. He stated that he had been a tenant on the estate of Squire H---, (a gentleman between whom and Squire Rhodes he knew there was a disagreement of long standing,) for many years, where he had reared a numerous and happy family in respectability: that about three years ago the squire had seduced his eldest daughter, a handsome girl of eighteen years, who died in giving birth to a still-born son: that his wife had died shortly after of a broken heart, and he was left to struggle through the world with a helpless family of young children: that, through bad crops and bad debts, he had fallen in arrears of his rent; and his cruel landlord had seized upon his whole stock, and turned him out of his favourite home, to become a destitute wanderer—destitute of food, shelter or clothing for himself and family. The benevolent Squire Rhodes whose ear was ever open to the tale of pity—whose heart was ever ready to relieve the unfortunate, after venting many imprecations on the hard-hearted squire, bestowed a guinea on the poor farmer.

Having obtained this third contribution from the unsuspecting squire, he returned to the public-house, where the gentlemen waited for him (for they were the principal occasion of this last adventure); and being informed how he had fared, diverted themselves exceedingly with the stratagem; and shortly after, meeting with Squire Rhodes, they discovered the various impositions that had been practised upon him, and very heartily bantered him thereupon.

Some time after this, Mr. Carew, exercising his profession at Modbury (where squire Rhodes’s father lived), among other houses made his application to Legassick’s, where he by chance was visiting. Mr. Carew knocked at the kitchen door, which being opened, he saw his old friend the squire, who was then alone, and in a careless manner swinging his cane about. As soon as he began to tell his lamentable tale, Mr. Rhodes said, “I was three times in one day imposed on by that rogue, Bampfylde Moore Carew, to whose gang you may very likely belong; furthermore, I do not live here, but am a stranger.” Mean time in comes Mr. Legassick, with a bottle of wine in his hand, giving Mr. Carew a private wink, to let him understand that he knew him, and then very gravely inquired into the circumstances of his misfortune, as also of the affairs and inhabitants of Dartmouth, from whence he pretended to have sailed several times; of all which he gave a full and particular account; upon which Mr. Legassick gave him five shillings, and recommended him as a real object to Mr. Rhodes, who also made the same present; upon which Mr. Legassick burst out laughing; and, being asked the reason thereof, he could not forbear telling him, even in Mr. Carew’s presence; when Mr. Rhodes, finding himself a fourth time imposed upon by the same person, with a great deal of good nature made himself very merry therewith.

Mr. Carew being now advanced in years, and his strength beginning to fail, he was seized with a violent fever, which confined him to his bed for several weeks; on recovering he reflected how idly he had spent his life, and came to the resolution of resigning the Egyptian sceptre. The assembly finding him determined, reluctantly complied, and he departed amidst the applause, as well as the regrets of his subjects, who despaired of ever again having such a king.

Our hero returned home to the place of his nativity, but finding the air of the town not rightly to agree with him, and the death of some of his relations rendering his circumstances quite easy, he retired to the west country, where he purchased a neat cottage, which he embellished in a handsome style, and lived in a manner becoming a good old English gentleman, respected by his neighbours, and beloved by the poor, to whom his doors were ever open. Here he died, full of years and honours, regretted by all.

Having left his daughter a handsome fortune, she was married to a neighbouring gentleman of good family, by whom she had a numerous family of promising children.

We shall now conclude our true history, by observing, that we consider Mr. Carew to have as good a claim to fame and immortality as any of the heroes of the present age. We acknowledge he had his faults, but every body knows a perfect character is quite out of fashion, and that the authors of the present age hold it as an absurdity to draw even a fictitious hero without an abundance of faults.