When the day was come, the barber was called in to make his face as smooth as his art could do, and a woman’s gown and other female accoutrements of the largest size were provided for him. Having jumped into his petticoats, pinned a large dowde under his chin, and put a high-crowned hat on his head, he made a figure so comical that even Hogarth’s humour can scarcely parallel; yet our hero thought himself of something else to render his disguise more impenetrable: he therefore borrowed a little hump-backed child of a tinker, and two more of some others of his community. There remained now only in what situation to place the children, and it was quickly resolved to tie two to his back, and to take the other in his arms.
Thus accoutred, and thus hung with helpless infants, he marched forwards for Mr. Pleydell’s; coming up to the door, he put his hand behind him, and pinched one of the children, which set it a roaring; this gave the alarm to the dogs, so that between their barking and the child’s crying, the whole family was sufficiently disturbed. Out came the maid, crying, Carry away the children, old woman, they disturb the ladies. God bless their ladyships, I am the poor unfortunate grandmother to these poor helpless infants, whose dear mother and all they had was burnt at the dreadful fire at Kirton, and hope the good ladies, for God’s sake, will bestow something on the poor famishing starving infants. This moving story was accompanied with tears; upon which, the maid ran in to acquaint the ladies with this melancholy tale, while the good grandmother kept pinching one or other of the children, that they might play their parts to greater perfection; the maid soon returned with a half crown from the ladies, and some good broth, which he went into the court-yard to eat, (understanding the gentlemen were not in the house,) and got one of the under-servants, whom he met, to give some to the children on his back. He had not long been there, before the gentlemen all came in together, who accosted him with, Where did you come from, my good old woman? From Kirton, please your honours, where the poor unfortunate mother of these helpless babes was burnt to death by the flames, and all they had consumed.
D–n you, said one of the gentlemen, (who is well known by the name of Worthy Sir, and was particularly acquainted with Mr. Carew,) there has been more money collected for Kirton than ever Kirton was worth; however, he gave this good old grandmother a shilling, the other gentlemen likewise relieved her, commiserating her age, and her burden of so many helpless infants; not one of them discovering our hero in the old woman, who received their alms very thankfully, and pretended to go away.
But the gentlemen were not got into the house before their ears were saluted with a “tantivy, tantivy,” and halloo to the dogs, upon which they turned about, supposing it to be some brother sportsman, but seeing nobody, Worthy Sir swore the old woman they had relieved was Carew; a servant therefore was dispatched to bring her back; and she was brought into the parlour among the gentlemen, where, being examined, she confessed herself to be the famous Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, which made the gentlemen very merry, and they were now all employed in untying the children from his back, and observing the features and dress of this grandmother, which afforded them sufficient entertainment. They afterwards rewarded our hero for the mirth he procured them.
In the same manner he raised a contribution of Mr. Jones, of Ashton near Bristol, twice in one day, who had maintained, with a gentleman of his acquaintance, that he could not be so deceived. In the morning, with a sooty face, leather apron, a dejected countenance, and a woollen cap, he was generously relieved as an unfortunate blacksmith, whose all had been consumed by fire: in the afternoon he exchanged his logs for crutches; his countenance was now pale and sickly, his gestures very expressive of pain, his complaints lamentable, a poor unfortunate tinner, disabled from maintaining himself, a wife, and seven children, by the damps and hardships he had suffered in the mines; and so well did he paint his distress, that the disabled tinner was now as generously relieved as the unfortunate blacksmith had been in the morning.
Being now near the city of Bath, where he had not long before made so great a figure with his new married bride, he was resolved to visit it in a very different shape and character; he therefore tied up one of his legs behind him, and supplied its place with a wooden one, and putting on a false beard, assumed the character of a poor old cripple. In this disguise he had an opportunity of entertaining himself with the different receptions he met with from every order of men now, from what he had done before in his fine rich clothes. The rich, who before saluted him with their hats and compliments, now spurned him out of their way; the gamesters overlooked him, thinking he was no fish for their net; the chairmen, instead of Please your honour, d–d him; and the pumpers, who attentively marked his nod before, now denied him a glass of water. Many of the clergy, those disciples of humility, looked upon him with a supercilious brow; the ladies too, who had before strove who should be his partner at the balls, could not bear the sight of so shocking a creature: thus despised is poverty and rags, though sometimes the veil of real merit; and thus caressed and flattered is finery, though perhaps a covering for shame, poverty of soul, and abandoned profligacy. One character alone vouchsafed to look upon this contemptible object; the good man looked upon him with an eye melting into tenderness and soft compassion, while at the same time the hand which was stretched out to relieve him, showed the heart felt all the pangs which it supposed him to feel. But, notwithstanding the almost general contempt, he raised very considerable contributions; for, as some tossed him money out of pride, others to get rid of his importunity, and a few, as above, out of a good heart, it amounted to no small sum by the end of the season.
It is almost unnecessary to inform the reader, that these successful stratagems gained him high applause and honour in the company of the gipseys: he soon became the favourite of their king, who was very old and decrepid, and had always some honourable mark of distinction assigned him at their public assemblies. These honours and applauses were so many fresh spurs to his ingenuity and industry; so certain it is, that wherever those qualities are honoured, and publicly rewarded, though but by an oaken garland, there industry will outwork itself, and ingenuity will exceed the common bounds of art. Our hero, therefore, was continually planning new stratagems, and soon executed a very bold one on his grace the Duke of Bolton. Coming to his seat near Basingstoke, in Hampshire, he dressed himself in a sailor’s ragged habit, and knocking at the gate, desired of the porter, with a composed and assured countenance, admittance to the duke, or at least that the porter would give his grace a paper which he held in his hand; but, as he did not apply in a proper manner to this great officer, (who we think may not improperly be styled the turnkey of the gate) as he did not show him that passport which can open every gate, pass by the surliest porter, and get admittance even to kings, neither himself nor paper could gain any entrance. However, he was not disheartened with this, but waiting near the gate for some time, he at last saw a servant come out, whom he followed, and, telling him that he was a very unfortunate man, desired he would be so kind as to introduce him where he might speak to his grace. As this servant had no interest in locking up his master, for that belonged to the porter only, he very readily complied with his request, as soon as the porter was off his stand; which he accordingly did, introducing him into a hall, where the duke was to pass through soon. He had not been long there before the duke came in, upon which he clapped his knee to the ground, and very graciously offered a paper to his hand for acceptance, which was a petition, setting forth that the unfortunate petitioner, Bampfylde Moore Carew, was supercargo of a large vessel that was cast away coming from Sweden, in which were his whole effects, and none of which he had been able to save. The duke seeing the name of Bampfylde Moore Carew, and knowing those names to belong to families of the greatest worth and note in the west of England, inquired of what family he was, and how he became entitled to those honourable names? He replied, they were those of his godfathers, the Honourable Hugh Bampfylde, and the Honourable Major Moore. The duke then asked him several questions about his friends and relations, all of which he answers very fully; and the duke expressing some surprise that he should apply for relief in his misfortunes to any but his own family, who were so well able to assist him, he replied, he had disobliged them by some follies in his youth, and had not seen them for some years, but was now returning to them. Many more questions did the duke, and a lady who was present, ask him; all of which he answered to their satisfaction.
As this was not a great while after his becoming a member of the community of the gipseys, the duke had never heard that any of the noble family of the Carews was become one of those people; and