Tales and Legends of the English Lakes Part 22

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 hea.r.s.e 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 b.u.t.termere 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, "G.o.d be thanked!"

On the day of his condemnation, Wordsworth and Coleridge pa.s.sed 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 c.u.mberland. 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 famis.h.i.+ng 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 mult.i.tudes 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 pa.s.sionately 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 c.u.mberland jury, it has been a.s.serted, 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 b.u.t.termore, 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 n.o.body 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 pa.s.sage 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sing centuries have thrown a darkening veil, the weary and hara.s.sed 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 pa.s.sing in small companies through well-reconnoitred pa.s.ses 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 c.u.mberland men repaired one and all to their chief, each one mounted on his p.r.i.c.ker--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 Graemes. 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 astonis.h.i.+ng instance of successful temerity. These troopers were commanded by the younger Graeme, 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 Graemes, 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 rus.h.i.+ng down in all their strength upon the c.u.mberland 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 Graeme, 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 a.s.sailing their foe from the overhanging precipices. They marched along in single rank, through the pa.s.ses 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 s.h.i.+eld; 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 Graeme 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 Graeme 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 Graemes and a few of their followers were stationed; and before the remainder of the Highland band could afford succour, the younger Graeme, 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, s.h.i.+eld, and claymore, that neither friend nor foe should thereafter pa.s.s 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-inst.i.tuted 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 peac.o.c.k 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 circ.u.mscribed 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, gra.s.s-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 peac.o.c.k shed, And reynard's brush graced Joseph's h.o.a.ry 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 pa.s.s by Lyulph's Tower At eve, how softly then Doth Aira Force, that torrent hoa.r.s.e, 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.