Chapter VII: Part 7

Soon after he was liberated, he had the good fortune to prevail with some highly respectable merchants in Devonshire to take him into partnership with them; and, with a clergyman to accept his drafts to a large amount. He made upon this foundation a splendid appearance in London; and, before the general election, even proceeded to canvass the rotten burgh of Queenborough. Suspicions in the meantime arose, in regard to his character, and the state of his fortune. He retired from the indignation of his creditors, and was declared a bankrupt, in order to bring his villanies to light. Thus, having left behind his second wife and two infant children at Tiverton, he visited other places; and, at length, in July, 1802, arrived at the Queen's Head in Keswick, in a handsome travelling carriage, but without any servant, where he assumed the name of the Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope, brother of the Earl of Hopetoun, M.P., for Linlithgow.

From Keswick, as his head-quarters, he made excursions in every direction amongst the neighbouring valleys; meeting, generally, a good deal of respect and attention, partly on account of his handsome equipage, and still more from his visiting cards, which designated him as "the Honourable Alexander Augustus Hope." Some persons had discernment enough to doubt of this; for his breeding and deportment, though showy, had a tinge of vulgarity about it; he was grossly ungrammatical in his ordinary conversation. He received letters under this assumed name--which might be through collusion with accomplices--but he himself continually franked letters by that name. That being a capital offence, not only a forgery, but (as a forgery on the post-office) sure to be prosecuted, nobody presumed to question his pretensions any longer; and henceforward, he went to all places with the consideration attached to an earl's brother. All doors flew open at his approach; boats, boatmen, nets, and the most unlimited sporting privileges, were placed at the disposal of the "Honourable" gentleman; and the hospitality of the whole country taxed itself to offer a suitable reception to the patrician Scotchman.

Nine miles from Keswick, by the nearest route, lies the lake of Buttermere. Its margin, which is overhung by some of the loftiest and steepest of Cumbrian mountains, exhibits on either side few traces of human neighbourhood; the level area, where the hills recede enough to allow of any, is of a wild, pastoral character, or almost savage; the waters of the lake are deep and sullen; and the barrier mountains, by excluding the sun for much of its daily course, strengthen the gloomy impressions. At the foot of this lake (that is, at the end where its waters issue), lie a few unornamented fields, through which rolls a little brook-like river, connecting it with the larger lake of Crummock; and at the edge of this little domain, upon the roadside, stands a cluster of cottages, so small and few, that, in the richer tracts of the islands, they would scarcely be complimented with the name of hamlet. One of these, the principal, belonged to an independent proprietor, called, in the local dialect, a "Statesman;" and more, perhaps, for the sake of gathering any little local news, than with much view to pecuniary profit at that era, this cottage offered the accommodations of an inn to traveller and his horse.

Rare, however, must have been the mounted traveller in those days, unless visiting Buttermere for itself, for the road led to no further habitations of man, with the exception of some four or five pastoral cabins, equally humble, in Gatesgarth dale. Hither, however, in an evil hour for the peace of this little brotherhood of shepherds, came the cruel spoiler from Keswick, and directed his steps to the once happy cottage of poor Mary, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, an old couple, who kept the inn, and had, by their industry, gained a little property. She was the only daughter, and probably her name had never been known to the public, but for the account given of her by the author of _A Fortnight's Ramble to the Lakes in Westmorland, Lancashire, and Cumberland_. His errand was to witness or share in char-fishing; for in Derwentwater (the lake of Keswick) no char is found, which breeds only in the deeper waters, such as Windermere, Crummock, Buttermere, &c.

Hatfield now became acquainted with an Irish gentleman, an M.P., who had been resident with his family some months at Keswick. With this gentleman, and under his immediate protection, there was likewise a young lady of family and fortune, and of great personal attractions. One of the means which Hatfield used to introduce himself to this respectable family was the following:--Understanding that the gentleman had been a military man, he took an army list from his pocket, and pointed to his assumed name, the Honourable Alexander Augustus Hope, lieutenant-colonel of the 14th regiment of foot. This new acquaintance daily gained strength; and he shortly paid his addresses to the daughter of the above gentleman, and obtained her consent. The wedding clothes were bought; but previously to the wedding-day being fixed, she insisted that the pretended Colonel Hope should introduce the subject formally to her friends. He now pretended to write letters; and, while waiting for the answers, proposed to employ that time in a trip to Lord Hopetoun's seat, &c.

From this time he played a double game; his visits to Keswick became frequent, and his suit to the young lady assiduous and fervent. Still, however, both at Keswick and Buttermere, he was somewhat shy of appearing in public. He was sure to be engaged in a fishing expedition on the day on which any company was expected at the public house at Buttermere; and he never attended the church at Keswick but once.

Finding his schemes baffled to obtain this young lady and her fortune, he now applied himself wholly to gain possession of Mary Robinson, who was a fine young woman of eighteen, and acted as waiter. In a situation so solitary, the stranger had unlimited facilities for enjoying her company, and recommending himself to her favour. Among the neighbours he made the most minute inquiries into every circumstance relating to her and her family. Doubts about his pretensions never arose in so simple a place as this; they were over-ruled before they could well have arisen, by the opinion now general in Keswick, that he really was what he pretended to be; and thus, with little demur, except in the shape of a few natural words of parting anger from a defeated or rejected rustic admirer, the young woman gave her hand in marriage to the showy and unprincipled stranger. He procured a licence, and they were married in the church of Lorton, on the 2nd of October, 1802. A romantic account of the circumstance found its way almost immediately into the newspapers. It thus fell under the notice of various individuals in Scotland, who knew that Colonel Hope, who was said to have married the flower of Buttermere, had been abroad the whole summer, and was now residing in Vienna. Mr. Charles Hope, then Lord Justice Clerk, afterwards President of the Court of Session (a son-in-law of the Earl of Hopetoun), made the fact known, and prompted inquiries which led to the detection of the imposture.

On the day previous to his marriage, Hatfield wrote to Mr. Mansfield, informing him, that he was under the necessity of being absent for ten days on a journey into Scotland, and sent him a draft for thirty pounds, drawn on Mr. Crumpt, of Liverpool, desired him to cash it, and pay some small debts in Keswick with it, and send him over the balance, as he feared he might be short of cash on the road. This Mr. Mansfield immediately did, and sent him ten guineas in addition to the balance. On the Saturday, Wood, the landlord of the Queen's Head, returned from Lorton with the public intelligence, that Colonel Hope had married the Beauty of Buttermere. As it was clear, whoever he was, that he had acted unworthily and dishonourably, Mr. Mansfield's suspicions were of course awakened. He instantly remitted the draft to Mr. Crumpt, who immediately accepted it. Mr. Mansfield wrote to the Earl of Hopetoun. Before the answer arrived, the pretended honourable returned with his wife to Buttermere. He went only as far as Longtown, when he received two letters, seemed much troubled that some friends whom he had expected had not arrived there, stayed three days, and then told his wife that he would again go back to Buttermere.

From this she was seized with fears and suspicions. They returned, however, and their return was made known at Keswick. The late Mr. Harding, the barrister, and a Welsh judge, passing through Keswick, heard of this impostor, and sent his servant over to Buttermere with a note to the supposed Colonel Hope, who observed, "that it was a mistake, and that it was for a brother of his." However, he sent for four horses, and came over to Keswick; drew another draft on Mr. Crumpt for twenty pounds, which the landlord at the Queen's Head had the courage to cash. Of this sum he immediately sent the ten guineas to Mr. Mansfield, who came and introduced him to the judge, as his old friend Colonel Hope. But he made a blank denial that he had ever assumed the name. He had said his name was Hope, but not that he was the honourable member for Linlithgow, &c., &c.; and one who had been his frequent intimate at Buttermere gave evidence to the same purpose.

In spite, however, of his impudent assertions, and those of his associate, the evidence against him was decisive. A warrant was given by Sir Frederick Vane on the clear proof of his having forged and received several franks as the member for Linlithgow; and he was committed to the care of a constable, but allowed to fish on the lake. Having, however, found means to escape, he took refuge for a few days on board a sloop off Ravenglass, and then went in the coach to Ulverston, and was afterwards seen at a hotel in Chester. In the meantime the following advertisement, setting forth his person and manners, was in the public prints:--

"Notorious Impostor, Swindler, and Felon!

"John Hatfield, who lately married a young woman, commonly called
the Beauty of Buttermere, under an assumed name; height about five
feet ten inches, aged about forty-four, full face, bright eyes,
thick eyebrows, strong, but light beard, good complexion, with some
colour, thick, but not very prominent nose, smiling countenance,
fine teeth, a scar on one of his cheeks near his chin, very long
thick light hair, and a great deal of it gray, done up in a club;
stiff, square-shouldered, full breast and chest, rather corpulent,
and strong limbed, but very active; and has rather a spring in his
gait, with apparently a little hitch in bringing up one leg; the
two middle fingers of his left hand are stiff from an old wound; he
has something of the Irish brogue in his speech; fluent and elegant
in his language, great command of words, frequently puts his hand
to his heart; very fond of compliments, and generally addressing
himself to persons most distinguished by rank or situation;
attentive in the extreme to females, and likely to insinuate
himself where there are young ladies. He was in America during the
war; is fond of talking of his wounds and exploits there, and of
military subjects, as well as of Hatfield Hall, and his estates in
Derbyshire and Cheshire; and of the antiquity of his family, whom
he pretends to trace to the Plantagenets. He makes a boast of
having often been engaged in duels; he has been a great traveller
also, by his own account, and talks of Egypt, Turkey, and Italy;
and, in short, has a general knowledge of subjects, which, together
with his engaging manners, is well calculated to impose on the
credulous. He had art enough to connect himself with some very
respectable merchants in Devonshire, as a partner in business, but
having swindled them out of large sums, he was made a separate
bankrupt in June, 1802. He cloaks his deception under the mask of
religion, appears fond of religious conversation, and makes a point
of attending divine service and popular preachers."

Besides blighting the prospects of the poor girl, he had nearly
ruined her father by running up a debt of eighteen pounds. His
dressing-case, a very elegant piece of furniture, was left behind,
and on being opened at Keswick by warrant of a magistrate, was
found to contain every article that the most luxurious gentleman
could desire, but no papers tending to discover his real name.
Afterwards, Mary herself, searching more narrowly, discovered that
the box had a double bottom, and in the intermediate recess, found
a number of letters addressed to him by his wife and children,
under the name of Hatfield. The story of the detection immediately
became as notorious as the marriage had been.

Though he was personally known in Cheshire to many of the
inhabitants, yet this specious hypocrite had so artfully disguised
himself, that he quitted the town without any suspicions before the
Bow Street officers reached that place in quest of him. He was then
traced to Brielth, in Brecknockshire, and was at length apprehended
about sixteen miles from Swansea, and committed to Brecon jail. He
had a cravat on, with his initials, J. H., which he attempted to
account for by calling himself John Henry.

Before the magistrates he declared himself to be Ludor Henry; and
in order to prepossess the honest Cambrians in his favour, boasted
that he was descended from an ancient family in Wales, for the
inhabitants of which country he had ever entertained a sincere
regard. He was, however, conveyed up to town by the Bow Street
officers, where he was examined on his arrival before the
magistrates. The solicitor for his bankruptcy attended to identify
his person, and stated, that the commission of bankruptcy was
issued against Hatfield in June, 1802; that he attended the last
meeting of the commissioners, but the prisoner did not appear,
although due notice had been given in the _Gazette_, and he himself
had given notice to the prisoner's wife, at Wakefield near
Tiverton, Devon. Mr. Parkyn, the solicitor to the Post-office,
produced a warrant from Sir Frederick Vane, Bart., a magistrate for
the county of Cumberland, against the prisoner, by the name of the
Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope, charging him with felony, by
pretending to be a member of parliament of the United Kingdom, and
franking several letters by the name of A. Hope, to several
persons, which were put into the Post-office at Keswick, in
Cumberland, in order to evade the duties of postage. Another charge
for forgery, and the charge for bigamy, were explained to him, but
not entered into, as he was committed for trial for these charges
at the next assizes at Carlisle. He conducted himself with the
greatest propriety during his journey to town, and on his
examination; but said nothing more than answering a few questions
put to him by Sir Richard Ford and the solicitors, affecting to
consider himself a persecuted individual, and representing, in
particular, that, in the alliance with Mary Robinson, he had been
rather sinned against than sinning. Mary, on the other hand, who
was now announced to be likely to bear a child to her pretended
husband, refused to become accessory to his prosecution. The utmost
she could be prevailed on to do against Hatfield was to address the
following letter to Sir Richard Ford:--

"The man whom I had the misfortune to marry, and who has ruined me
and my aged parents, always told me he was the Hon. Colonel Hope,
the next brother of the Earl of Hopetoun. Your grateful and
unfortunate servant,

MARY ROBINSON."

At the fourth examination of the impostor, on the 27th of December, this letter was read aloud by the clerk, in the open court. To quote from a chronicle of the time:--"The simplicity of this letter, which, though it breathes the soft murmur of complaint, is free from all virulence, excited in the breast of every person present an emotion of pity and respect for the unmerited sorrows of a female, who has in this whole matter manifested a delicacy of sentiment, and nobleness of mind, infinitely beyond her sphere of education. The feelings of Hatfield could not be enviable; yet he exhibited no symptom of contrition; and when remanded for further examination, retired with the most impenetrable composure."

He was then dressed in a black coat and waistcoat, fustian breeches, and boots, and wore his hair tied behind. His appearance was respectable, though quite in dishabille. The Duke of Cumberland, and several other gentlemen, were present at his examination; in the course of which the following letter was produced:--

"BUTTERMERE, _Oct._ 1, 1802.

"DEAR SIR,--I have this day received Mr. Firkman's kind letter from
Manchester, promising me the happiness of seeing you both in about
ten days, which will indeed give me great pleasure; and you can,
too, be of very valuable service to me at this place, particulars
of which, when we meet, though I shall probably write to you again
in a few days. The chief purpose for which I write this, is to
desire you will be so good as to accept a bill for me, dated
Buttermere, the 1st of October, at ten days, and I will either give
you cash for it here, or remit to you in time, whichever way you
please to say. It is drawn in favour of Nathaniel Montgomery More,
Esq. Be pleased to present my best respects to your lady; and say,
I hope, ere the winter elapses, to pay her my personal respects;
for if you will manage so as to pass a little time with me in
Scotland, I will promise to make Liverpool in my way to London.
With the truest esteem, I am, Dear Sir, yours ever,

A. HOPE."

"KESWICK, _October the 1st, 1802_.
JOHN CRUMPT, Esq., Liverpool.
Free, A. HOPE."

This letter, it was proved, passed free of postage. Another letter was also produced from his wife at Tiverton, and a certificate of his marriage with Mary of Buttermere. His trial came on August 15th, 1803, at the Assizes for Cumberland, before the Honourable Alexander Thompson, Knt. He stood charged upon the three following indictments:--

1. With having assumed the name and title of the Honourable Alexander Augustus Hope, and pretending to be a member of parliament of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland; and with having, about the month of October last, under such false and fictitious name and character, drawn a draft or bill of exchange, in the name of Alexander Hope, upon John Crumpt, Esq., for the sum of £20, payable to George Wood, of Keswick, Cumberland, innkeeper, or order, at the end of fourteen days from the date of the said draft or bill of exchange.

2. With making, uttering, and publishing as true, a certain false, forged, and counterfeit bill of exchange, with the name of Alexander Augustus Hope thereunto falsely set and subscribed, drawn upon John Crumpt, Esq., dated the 1st of October, 1802, and payable to Nathaniel Montgomery More, or order, ten days after date, for £30 sterling.

3. With having assumed the name of Alexander Hope, and pretending to be a member of parliament of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the brother of the right Hon. Lord Hopetoun, and a colonel in the army; and under such false and fictitious name and character, at various times in the month of October, 1802, having forged and counterfeited the hand-writing of the said Alexander Hope, in the superscription of certain letters or packets, in order to avoid the payment of the duty on postage.

The prisoner pleaded not guilty to the charge.

The three several indictments having been read, Mr. Scarlett opened the case in an address to the jury; and gave an ample detail of the prisoner's guilt.

In support of what he had advanced, he called Mr. Quick, who was clerk in the house at Tiverton, where Hatfield was partner, who swore to his hand-writing. The Rev. Mr. Nicholson swore that when the prisoner was asked his name, he said it was a comfortable one--Hope.

The evidence for the prosecution having closed, the prisoner addressed himself to the jury. He said he felt some degree of satisfaction in being able to have his sufferings terminated, as they must of course be by their verdict. For the space of nine months he had been dragged from prison to prison, and torn from place to place, subject to all the misrepresentations of calumny.

"Whatever will be my fate," said he, "I am content; it is the award of justice, impartially and virtuously administered. But I will solemnly declare that in all my transactions, I never intended to defraud or injure the persons whose names have appeared in the prosecution. This I will maintain to the last of my life."

After the evidence was gone through, his lordship, Sir A. Thompson, summed up the whole of the evidence and commented upon such parts as peculiarly affected the fate of the prisoner. "Nothing," said his lordship, "could be more clearly proved, than that the prisoner did make the bill or bills in question under the assumed name of Alexander Augustus Hope, with an intention to defraud. That the prisoner used the additional name of Augustus was of no consequence in this question. The evidence proved clearly that the prisoner meant to represent himself to be another character; and under that assumed character, he drew the bills in question. If anything should appear in mitigation of the offences with which the prisoner was charged, they must give them a full consideration; and though his character had been long shaded with obloquy, yet they must not let this in the least influence the verdict they were sworn to give."

The jury consulted about ten minutes, and then returned a verdict--Guilty of Forgery.

During the whole of the trial the court was excessively crowded. The prisoner's behaviour was proper and dignified; and he supported his situation from first to last with unshaken fortitude. He employed himself, during the greatest part of his trial, in writing notes on the evidence given, and in conversing with his counsel.

When the verdict of the jury was given, he manifested no relaxation of his accustomed demeanour. After the court adjourned, he retired from the bar, and was ordered to attend the next morning to receive the sentence of the law. The crowd was immense; and he was allowed a post-chaise from the town-hall to the jail.[16]

At eight o'clock the next morning, the court met again, when the prisoner appeared at the bar to receive his sentence. Numbers of people gathered together to witness this painful duty of the law passed upon one whose appearance, manners, and actions, had excited a most uncommon degree of interest. After proceeding in the usual form, the judge addressed the prisoner in the following impressive terms:--

"John Hatfield, after the long and serious investigation of the charges which have been preferred against you, you have been found guilty by a jury of your country.

"You have been distinguished for crimes of such magnitude, as have seldom, if ever, received any mitigation of capital punishment; and in your case, it is impossible it can be limited. Assuming the person, name, and character, of a worthy and respectable officer of a noble family in this country, you have perpetrated and committed the most enormous crimes. The long imprisonment you have undergone has afforded time for your serious reflection, and an opportunity for your being deeply impressed with a sense of the enormity of your crimes, and the justness of that sentence which must be inflicted upon you; and I wish you to be seriously impressed with the awfulness of your situation. I conjure you to reflect with anxious care and deep concern on your approaching end, concerning which much remains to be done. Lay aside now your delusions and impositions, and employ properly the short space you have to live. I beseech you to employ the remaining part of your time in preparing for eternity, so that you may find mercy at the hour of death, and in the day of judgment. Hear, now, the sentence of the law:--That you be carried from hence to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, and there to be hung by the neck till you are dead; and may the Lord have mercy on your soul!"

A notion very generally prevailed that he would not be brought to justice; and the arrival of the mail was daily expected with the greatest impatience. No pardon arriving, Saturday, September 3, 1803, was at last fixed upon for the execution.

The gallows was erected the preceding night, between twelve and three, on an island formed by the river Eden, on the north side of the town, between the two bridges. From the hour when the jury found him guilty, he behaved with the utmost serenity and cheerfulness. He talked upon the topics of the day with the greatest interest or indifference. He could scarcely ever be brought to speak of his own case. He neither blamed the verdict, nor made any confession of his guilt. He said he had no intention to defraud those whose names he forged; but was never heard to say that he was to die unjustly. None of his relations ever visited him during his confinement.

The alarming nature of the crime of forgery, in a commercial country, had taught him, from the beginning, to entertain no hope of mercy. By ten in the morning of September 3, his irons were struck off; he appeared as usual, and no one observed any alteration or increased agitation whatever.

Soon after ten o'clock he sent for the _Carlisle Journal_, and perused it for some time. A little after he had laid aside the paper, two clergymen (Mr. Pattison of Carlisle and Mr. Mark of Burgh-on-Sands), attended and prayed with him for about two hours, and drank coffee with him. After they left him, about twelve, he wrote some letters, and in one he enclosed his penknife; it was addressed to London. About this time he also shaved himself; though intrusted with a razor, he never seems to have meditated an attempt upon his life; but it was generally reported on Friday night that he had poisoned himself, though without foundation. To all who spoke with him, he pretended that what he had to suffer was a matter of little consequence. He preferred talking on indifferent subjects. At three, he dined with the jailer, and ate heartily. Having taken a glass or two of wine, he ordered coffee. He took a cup a few minutes before he set out for the place of execution. The last thing he did was to read a chapter from the 2d Corinthians. He had previously marked out this passage for his lesson before he was to mount the scaffold.

The sheriffs, the bailiffs, and the Carlisle volunteer cavalry, attended at the jail door about half-past three, together with a post-chaise and hearse. He was then ordered into the turnkey's lodge, for the purpose of being pinioned, where he inquired of the jailer, who were going in the chaise with him? He was told the executioner and the jailer. He immediately said, "Pray, where is the executioner? I should wish much to see him." The executioner was sent for. Hatfield asked him how he was, and made him a present of some silver in a paper. During the time of his being pinioned, he stood with resolution, and requested he might not be pinioned tight, as he wished to use his handkerchief on the platform; which was complied with. A prodigious crowd had assembled; this was the market day, and people had come from the distance of many miles out of mere curiosity. Hatfield, when he left the prison, wished all his fellow-prisoners might be happy; he then took farewell of the clergyman, who attended him to the door of the chaise, and mounted the steps with much steadiness and composure. The jailer and executioner went in along with him. The latter had been brought from Dumfries upon a retaining fee of ten guineas.

It was exactly four o'clock when the procession moved from the jail. Passing through the Scotch gate, in about twelve minutes it arrived at the Sands. Half the yeomanry went before the carriage, and the other half behind. Upon arriving on the ground, they formed a ring round the scaffold. It is said that he wished to have the blinds drawn up, but that such an indulgence was held inconsistent with the interest of public justice. When he came in sight of the tree, he said to the jailer, he imagined that was the tree (pointing at it) that he was to die on. On being told yes, he exclaimed, "O! a happy sight--I see it with pleasure!"

As soon as the carriage-door had been opened by the under-sheriff, he alighted with his two companions. A small-cart, boarded over, had been placed under the gibbet, and a ladder was placed against it, which he instantly ascended. He was dressed in a black jacket, black silk waistcoat, fustian pantaloons, shoes, and white cotton stockings. He was perfectly cool and collected. At the same time, his conduct displayed nothing of levity, of insensibility, or of hardihood. He was more anxious to give proof of resignation than of heroism. His countenance was extremely pale, but his hand never trembled. He immediately untied his neckerchief, and placed a bandage over his eyes. Then he desired the hangman, who was extremely awkward, to be as expert as possible about it, and that he would wave a handkerchief when he was ready. The hangman, not having fixed the rope in its proper place, he put up his hand and turned it himself. He also tied his cap, took his handkerchief from his own neck, and tied it about his head also. Then he requested the jailer would step on the platform and pinion his arms a little harder, saying, that when he had lost his senses he might attempt to lift them to his neck. The rope was completely fixed about five minutes before five o'clock; it was slack, and he merely said, "May the Almighty bless you all." Nor did he falter in the least, when he tied the cap, shifted the rope, and took his handkerchief from his neck.

He several times put on a languid and piteous smile. He at last seemed rather exhausted and faint. Having been near three weeks under sentence of death, he must have suffered much, notwithstanding his external bearing; and a reflection of the misery he had occasioned must have given him many an agonizing throb.

Having taken leave of the jailer and sheriff, he prepared himself for his fate. He was at this time heard to exclaim, "My spirit is strong, though my body is weak."

Great apprehensions were entertained that it would be necessary to tie him up a second time. The noose slipped twice, and he fell down about eighteen inches. His feet at last were almost touching the ground; but his excessive weight, which occasioned this accident, speedily relieved him from pain. He expired in a moment, and without any struggle. The ceremony of his hands being tied behind his back, was satisfied by a piece of white tape passed loosely from one to the other; but he never made the smallest effort to relieve himself. He had calculated so well, that his money lasted exactly to the scaffold. As they were setting out, the hangman was going to search him. He threw him half-a-crown, saying,

"This is all my pockets contain."

He had been in considerable distress before he received a supply from his father. He afterwards lived in great style, frequently making presents to his fellow felons. He was considered in the jail as a kind of emperor; he was allowed to do whatever he pleased, and no one took offence at the air of superiority which he assumed.

He was cut down after he had hung about an hour. On the preceding Wednesday he had applied to one of the clergymen who attended him, to recommend him a tradesman to make his coffin. Mr. Bushby, of Carlisle, took measure of him. He did not appear at all agitated while Mr. Bushby was so employed; but told him that he wished the coffin to be a strong oak one, plain and neat.

"I request, Sir," he added, "that after I am taken down, I may be put into the coffin immediately, with the apparel I may have on, and afterwards closely screwed down, put into the hearse which will be in waiting, carried to the churchyard, and be interred in the evening."

A spot was fixed upon in a distant corner of the churchyard, far from the other tombs. No priest attended, and the coffin was lowered without any religious service. Notwithstanding Hatfield's various and complicated enormities, his untimely end excited considerable commiseration. His manners were extremely polished and insinuating, and he was possessed of qualities which might have rendered him an ornament to society.

The unfortunate Mary of Buttermere went from home to avoid the impertinent visits of unfeeling curiosity. She was much affected; and, indeed, without supposing that any part of her former attachment remained, it is impossible that she could view his tragical fate with indifference. When her father and mother heard that Hatfield had certainly been hanged, they both exclaimed, "God be thanked!"

On the day of his condemnation, Wordsworth and Coleridge passed through Carlisle, and endeavoured to obtain an interview with him. Wordsworth succeeded; but, for some unknown reason, the prisoner steadily refused to see Coleridge; a caprice which could not be penetrated. It was true that he had, during his whole residence at Keswick, avoided Coleridge with a solicitude which had revived the original suspicions against him in some quarters, after they had generally subsided. However, if not him, Coleridge saw and examined his very interesting papers. These were chiefly letters from women whom he had injured, pretty much in the same way, and by the same impostures, as he had recently practised in Cumberland. Great was the emotion of Coleridge when he afterwards recurred to these letters, and bitter--almost vindictive--was the indignation with which he spoke of Hatfield. One set of letters appeared to have been written under too certain a knowledge of his villany towards the individual to whom they were addressed; though still relying on some possible remains of humanity, or perhaps (the poor writer might think) on some lingering relics of affection for herself.

The other set was even more distressing; they were written under the first conflicts of suspicions, alternately repelling with warmth the gloomy doubts which were fast arising, and then yielding to their afflicting evidence; raving in one page under the misery of alarm, in another courting the delusions of hope, and luring back the perfidious deserter--here resigning herself to despair, and there again labouring to show that all might yet be well. Coleridge said often, in looking back upon that frightful exposure of human guilt and misery, that the man who, when pursued by these heart-rending apostrophes, and with this litany of anguish sounding in his ears, from despairing women, and from famishing children, could yet find it possible to enjoy the calm pleasures of a lake tourist, and deliberately to hunt for the picturesque, must have been a fiend of that order which, fortunately, does not often emerge amongst men.

It is painful to remember that, in those days, amongst the multitudes who ended their career in the same ignominious way, and the majority for offences connected with the forgery of bank notes, there must have been a considerable number who perished from the very opposite cause; namely, because they felt, too passionately and profoundly for prudence, the claims of those who looked up to them for support. One common scaffold confounds the most flinty hearts and the tenderest. However, in this instance, it was in some measure the heartless part of Hatfield's conduct which drew upon him his ruin; for the Cumberland jury, it has been asserted, declared their unwillingness to hang him for having forged a frank; and both they, and those who refused to aid his escape, when first apprehended, were reconciled to this harshness entirely by what they had heard of his conduct to their injured young fellow-countrywoman.

She, meantime, under the name of the Beauty of Buttermore, became an object of interest to all England. Dramas and melo-dramas were produced in the London theatres upon her story; and for many a year afterwards, shoals of tourists crowded to the secluded lake and the little homely cabaret, which had been the scene of her brief romance. It was fortunate for a person in her distressing situation, that her home was not in a town; the few and simple who had witnessed her imaginary elevation, having little knowledge of worldly feelings, never for an instant connected with her disappointment any sense of the ludicrous, or spoke of it as a calamity to which her vanity might have co-operated. They treated it as unmixed injury, reflecting shame upon nobody but the wicked perpetrator. Hence, without much trial to her womanly sensibilities, she found herself able to resume her situation in the little inn; and this she continued to hold for many years. In that place, and in that capacity, she was seen repeatedly. She was greatly admired, and became the subject of the poet's song; but "sorrow," to use the beautiful language of Ossian, "sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shaded her soul."

[16] The jail and court-house were at that period divided by the
street. The jail, etc., has been rebuilt, and there is now a
passage from one to the other.

THE BORDER FREEBOOTERS;

OR, A FIGHT IN BORROWDALE.

In olden time, when the contiguous countries of England and Scotland held no amicable relation to each other, it may well be supposed that the mountain ridges forming the line of demarcation between the two territories would frequently be the scene of fierce contention between a rival people. The proximity of the English and Scots in the neighbourhood of the border line, and the inoperative character of the laws, arising from the disorders of the feudal system, which filled both countries with chiefs and petty governors, eager, and sufficiently powerful, to make aggressions and reprisals on each other, are of themselves a sufficient explanation of the causes which led to those continued strifes called the Border warfare. The deep enmity of the hostile parties towards each other overthrew, in a good measure, all moral obligation and honourable feeling.

Incursions were frequently made from the north, less for the purpose of contention in arms, than for committing depredations on cattle and property. Hence the name of freebooters came to be applied to the Border clans, and ultimately with much justice; for in course of time it was deemed matter of indifference by either party whether they preyed on their rival neighbours, or on their own countrymen. Instances are, however, on record in which the Border feuds were distinguished by a romantic and chivalrous feeling, that may well be supposed to have animated great and noble minds, in an age when the most powerful sceptre was the sword, and martial prowess the most estimable quality of mankind:--

"Those were the days, the olden days
When Border feuds ran high,
And the men of the North ofttimes sallied forth
On deeds of chivalry.

O! heaven gie rest to the souls of a'
Wha lived in those times o' disorder;
There were gude men and brave in the olden day,
On baith sides o' the Border."

Summoning forth "far forgotten things," we will refer to a desperate struggle between two rival clans of Border freebooters, under the stupendous rocks of Honister Crag and Yew Crag.

Late in the evening, at the autumnal season of a year over which passing centuries have thrown a darkening veil, the weary and harassed Borderers of Borrowdale were summoned together by the sound of the slogan, or war-cry of their band. The scouts, who had been sent forth in different directions, to give timely notice of any hostile approaches, returned to their chief, who sat ruminating by his watch-fire, on a neighbouring mountain, and reported the sudden irruption of the Scottish clan, that had swept before them a rich booty of cattle, lying at the foot of Borrowdale hawse. By passing in small companies through well-reconnoitred passes of the mountains, the Scots had contrived to elude the observation of the night guard, till their whole force had again united. They then divided into two companies, one of which drove their booty towards the frontier, and the other remained to protect the rear, and baffle their opponents, if they attempted pursuit. The war-shout of the despoiled clan rung through the mountains, and the Cumberland men repaired one and all to their chief, each one mounted on his pricker--a name applied to their small horses--which were both fleet and sufficiently spirited to overcome a laborious ascent into the hills.

Among the Scottish freebooters none were found possessed of greater skill and daring, in the management of their predatory excursions, than the Græmes. This clan it was who had undertaken and accomplished the capture of Borrowdale, which even in those days of enterprise, was looked upon as an astonishing instance of successful temerity. These troopers were commanded by the younger Græme, a bold, hardy chieftain; and his aged father, the Ossian of the clan, followed in all their expeditions to infuse warlike feeling into their hearts, by reciting "the tale of other times," and the bold enterprises of his past days, when the feebleness of age had not arrived.

All the Border clans cherished feelings of deadly animosity against each other; and this hereditary hate was even greater than their desire for plunder. When the division of the Highland band, under the direction of the two Græmes, had succeeded in diverting the enemy from the track which their comrades had taken, they separated among the hills, there to wait the signal, when a favourable opportunity should present for rushing down in all their strength upon the Cumberland men, and working out the measure of their hatred against them.

After fruitless attempts to recover the spoils which had been wrested from them, the English Borderers resolved to retaliate on the Scottish frontier; and, accordingly, collecting all their power, commenced their march through the desolate region of Borrowdale. Information was speedily conveyed to the younger Græme, that the enemy were approaching. The appointed signal was then given, and the Highlanders once more crowded round their leader. The Scottish chief determined to suspend his attack till the enemy should arrive in the defile between Honister Crag and Yew Crag, when his followers would have the advantage of assailing their foe from the overhanging precipices. They marched along in single rank, through the passes of the mountains, towards the appointed spot, singing their favourite war-song:--

"Sons of the mountain chief, on to the battle-field!
Clansmen and Highlanders, grasp ye the sword and shield;
On the rock or in defile, we'll not be ensnared,
When the foe is awaiting, are we not prepared?

On, let us meet them, our bucklers shall cover us;
Our refuge the hills, and heaven's vault over us:
O'er the steep of the crag, down the side of the scar,
Let us rush on the foe, in the thunder of war.

Their bugles sound cheerly: Behold them advancing!
With waving of plumes, and their chargers all prancing;
Yet the mountains that ring to their proud horses' tread,
They shall echo ere long to the fall of the dead!"

The Highlanders concealed themselves behind the rocky fragments strewn on the side of Yew Crag, till the English, advancing at a rapid rate, had reached the point in Gatesgarthdale, which lay directly opposite to their ambuscade. Young Græme sprung on his feet, and waved his claymore towards the enemy. The signal was answered by a volley of musketry from the hill; and instantly several horses, without riders, flew through the defile. The elder Græme singled forth the English leader. Sinking on one knee, he raised his musket with deadly certainty, and ere the sound of the death-shot could reach his victim, the white steed that bore him was left unfettered by the rein.

Furious at the loss of their leader, the troopers wheeled their horses round the precipice on which the Græmes and a few of their followers were stationed; and before the remainder of the Highland band could afford succour, the younger Græme, together with several of his clan, had met the death of heroes. The English then dashed forward on their expedition, not caring to continue the battle under the disadvantages of their position.

The Highlanders gathered round their fallen leader, and raised loud lament for the warrior, whose blood was streaming in their view. The old chieftain gazed wildly on his son; and his frame, which seventy winters had not palsied, shook with tremor. The body was laid in an opening on the hill-side, and every clansman brought a fragment of rock, to raise a rude memorial to his chief. On the summit of the pile they placed his bonnet, shield, and claymore, that neither friend nor foe should thereafter pass it with irreverence.

JOSSY WITH WHIPS.

A PARISH CHARACTER.

Joseph Robinson, better known by the name of "Jossy with Whips," was a well-known character in the parish of Orton in Westmorland. He had his regular rounds, which he constantly travelled; and his accustomed houses, where his never-failing alms was duly received by this self-instituted collector.

Some are still living who can recollect the harmless idiot and all his singular accoutrements. He never appeared without six or eight whips in his hands: a little stick, with a piece of string attached to the end of it, would any time supply honest Joseph with an excellent whip. A piece of an old coat, tied to his body with a hayband, was his usual upper garment; his legs were usually covered with haybands, tier above tier; and a profusion of hemp strings, in his opinion, adorned his person. These simple ornaments were to Joseph as dear and as honourable as the red and blue ribbons which are so anxiously struggled for by his fellows in the higher walks of life. In his hat he wore a fox's brush and peacock feathers, thus aping the fancied splendour of eastern magnificence.

Jossy was a quiet, inoffensive being; and the farmers through all the south of Westmorland would as soon have thought of neglecting any of their just debts, as of refusing the accustomed donation made to him. An out-house was his usual place of lodging; and habit had rendered this so natural to him, that a bed never entered his circumscribed ideas.

After Joseph, like his intelligent fellow-mortals, had been consigned to his "narrow house," a young man, in the parish of Orton, composed the following elegy to his memory:--

"Beneath this lowly, grass-encircled spot,
Lie the remains of Joseph of the Knot.
Death, grisly tyrant, no distinction shows
'Twixt him who all, and him who nothing knows.
Yes, ye! ye mighty sons of boasted wit!
All--all, like Joseph, must to death submit.
Though on his fingers many a ring he bore,
And round his brow the gaudy honours wore,
For him his plumes although the peacock shed,
And reynard's brush graced Joseph's hoary head;
Though armed with whips he constantly appeared,
Death mocked his honours, nor his armour feared.
But ah! despise not Joseph's humble lot--
His life so mean--his death so soon forgot:
In the last day--that great decisive day,
When death shall yield his temporary prey--
By lords, by kings, his fate may be desired--
Where nothing's given, nothing is required."

EMMA AND SIR EGLAMORE.

A LEGEND OF ULLSWATER.

About a quarter of a mile from Lyulph's Tower, a hunting seat of the late Duke of Norfolk, on the banks of Ullswater, is a lonely brook, the Airey or Aira, which, at Aira Force, falls over the rocks a height of 80 feet, into a beautiful and deep glen, covered with luxuriant foliage of fern and sweet-scented hawthorns. A picturesque bridge unites the precipitous rocks down which the foaming torrent pursues its ceaseless course.

This beautiful waterfall is the scene of the touching legend of the "Somnambulist," which has been versified by Wordsworth. The tale is, that Emma, a beautiful lady, betrothed to one Sir Eglamore, was walking in her sleep on the banks of the fall; and that her lover, who had unexpectedly returned after a long absence--so long as to have affected her health--was struck with the apparition of the maid, who had become subject to night wanderings. He watched her for some time plucking the twigs from the trees, and casting them into the stream, uncertain whether she were a real object, or a mere phantom of his imagination. He touched her, and, suddenly breaking her slumber, the affrighted maid shrieked, and, starting back, fell down the rocks into the stream below. The knight plunged in after her, and rescued her; but, though consciousness returned for a short period, and she recognised him, she expired within a few minutes upon the bank. The heart-broken knight built a cell upon the edge of the fall, and lived there in solitude for several years, shunning all intercourse with the world.

List, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower
At eve, how softly then
Doth Aira Force, that torrent hoarse,
Speak from the woody glen!
Fit music for a solemn vale!
And holier seems the ground
To him who catches on the gale
The spirit of a mournful tale,
Embodied in the sound.

Not far from that fair sight whereon
The pleasure-house is reared,
As story says, in antique days,
A stern-brow'd house appeared;
Foil to a jewel rich in light
There set, and guarded well;
Cage for a bird of plumage bright,
Sweet voiced, nor wishing for a flight
Beyond her native dell.

To win this bright bird from her cage,
To make this gem their own,
Came barons bold, with store of gold,
And knights of high renown;
But one she prized, and only one;
Sir Eglamore was he;
Full happy season, when was known,
Ye dales and hills! to you alone
Their mutual loyalty.

Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen,
The brook, and bowers of holly;
Where passion caught, what nature taught,
That all but love is folly;
Where fact and fancy stooped to play,
Doubt came not, nor regret,
To trouble hours that wing their way,
As if through an immortal day,
Whose sun could never set.

But in old times love dwelt not long
Sequester'd with repose;
Best throve the fire of chaste desire,
Fanned by the breath of foes.
"A conquering lance is beauty's test,
And proves the lover true;"
So spake Sir Eglamore, and pressed
The drooping Emma to his breast,
And looked a blind adieu.

They parted,--Well with him it fared
Through wide-spread regions errant;
A knight of proof in love's behoof,
The thirst of fame his warrant:
And she her happiness can build
On woman's quiet hours;
Though faint, compared with spear and shield,
The solace beads and masses yield,
And needlework and flowers.

Yet blest was Emma when she heard
Her champion's praise recounted;
Though brain would swim, and eyes grow dim,
And high her blushes mounted;
Or when a bold heroic lay
She warbled from full heart;
Delightful blossoms for the May
Of absence! but they will not stay,
Born only to depart.

Hope wanes with her, while lustre fills
Whatever path he chooses;
As if his orb, that owns no curb,
Received the light hers loses.
He comes not back; an ampler space
Requires for nobler deeds;
He ranges on from place to place,
Till of his doings is no trace,
But what her fancy breeds.

His fame may spread, but in the past
Her spirit finds its centre;
Clear sight she has of what he was,
And that would now content her.
"Still is he my devoted knight?"
The tear in answer flows;
Month falls on month with heavier weight;
Day sickens round her, and the night
Is empty of repose.

In sleep she sometimes walked abroad,
Deep sighs with quick words blending,
Like that pale queen, whose hands are seen
With fancied spots contending;
But she is innocent of blood:
The moon is not more pure
That shines aloft, while through the wood
She threads her way, the sounding flood
Her melancholy lure.

While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe,
And owls alone are waking,
In white arrayed glides on the maid,
The downward pathway taking,
That leads her to the torrent's side,
And to a holly bower;
By whom on this still night descried?
By whom in that lone place espied?
By thee, Sir Eglamore!

A wandering ghost, so thinks the knight,
His coming step has thwarted,
Beneath the boughs that heard their vows,
Within whose shade they parted.
Hush, hush, the busy sleeper see!
Perplexed her fingers seem,
As if they from the holly tree
Green twigs would pluck, as rapidly
Flung from her to the stream.