Mary of Buttermere.
Since the days of ‘Old Patch’ no impostor had reached the eminence of Hadfield. Born of well-to-do parents at Cradden-brook, Mottram-in-Longdendale, Cheshire—where a neighbouring village may have lent his family its surname—forty-three years before the adventure at Keswick, his habits and disposition had always been superior to his station in life. As a youth he was apprenticed to the woollen trade, but proved too fond of adventure to succeed in business. Though much of his career is wrapped in mystery, we know that he was in America between the years 1775-1781, during the War of Independence, and that he married a natural daughter of a younger brother of that famous warrior the Marquis of Granby.
Having squandered the small fortune he had received with her, the elegant Hadfield left his wife and their children to take care of themselves, and by means of credit managed for a short time to enjoy a career of dissipation in London. By his favourite device of extortion—passing drafts or bills of exchange upon persons of wealth, who would be unlikely to prefer a charge against him—he was enabled to continue his impositions without any more serious consequence than an occasional visit to gaol.
The King’s Bench Prison, where in 1782 he was confined for a debt of £160, appears as the next grim landmark in his life. By a lucky chance he was able to lay his case before the Duke of Rutland, who, having discovered that the prisoner had married a daughter of his late uncle, but being ignorant that the wife had died of a broken heart in consequence of her husband’s desertion, generously paid the sum necessary to obtain his release. For many years the impostor’s dexterity in obtaining money under false pretences from credulous strangers, who believed him to be a connection of the Manners family, made it possible for him to associate with those far above his rank.
During 1784, after a brief career of fraud in Dublin, where he posed as a relative of the Viceroy, and by means of this falsehood contracted a host of fraudulent debts, he was lodged in the Marshalsea Prison. With unblushing impudence he appealed to the Lord Lieutenant—his previous benefactor, the Duke of Rutland—who agreed to pay his debts on the understanding that he should leave Ireland immediately.
In the year 1792 Scarborough became the scene of his depredations. Staying at one of the principal hotels, he announced his intention of representing the town in Parliament in the interest of the Manners family. A portrait of poor Captain Lord Robert caused him to burst into tears, which evidence of feeling won the sympathy of all who witnessed it. As usual, his sparkling conversation and distinguished appearance disarmed suspicion, and for several weeks he lived in princely style at the expense of his landlord. When pressed for money he did not hesitate to offer bills of exchange, which the local tradesmen accepted without demur. Yet the day of reckoning, which this remarkable man never seemed to anticipate, could not be postponed. On the 25th of April he was arrested for the hotel debt, and, not being able to find bail, was cast into prison. Some weeks later, a detainer was lodged against him by a London creditor, and for eight years he remained an inmate of the Scarborough Gaol.
During his long confinement he maintained his favourite pose as a luckless aristocrat, writing poetry, and publishing much abuse against the authorities. At last fortune smiled upon the interesting captive. Neither Faublas nor Casanova ruled with more success over the female heart, and it was to a woman that he owed his release. A Devonshire lady, named Nation, who, it is said, occupied rooms facing the prison, took compassion upon him, and paid his debts. On the 13th of September 1800 the impostor became a free man, and the next morning, notwithstanding that hitherto they had been strangers, he married his benefactress. The pair made their home at Hele Bridge, near Dulverton, on the borders of Somerset and Devon, where the bride’s father was steward to a neighbouring landowner, and before very long Hadfield plunged once more into a career of fraud.
A marvellous aplomb, his previous commercial experience, and a deposit of £3000 which he contributed towards the firm, induced Messrs Dennis and Company, merchants of repute in the neighbouring town of Tiverton, to admit him as a partner. In consequence of this new enterprise, he removed during the summer of 1801 with his wife and child to a cottage at the village of Washfield to be near his business. As before, the utter lack of prescience and sagacity characteristic of the man prevented him from reaping the fruits of his perverted genius, as a less clever but more prudent would have done. The whole transaction was a smartly conceived but clumsily arranged swindle. Since the money for the partnership had been obtained by inducing a Mr Nucella, merchant of London, to transfer Government stock, which soon would have to be replaced, to the credit of Messrs Dennis, Hadfield was compelled to realise his winnings without delay. For the sake of a few hundred pounds of ready cash, he seems to have been eager to sacrifice all that a man usually holds dear, and to have become a lawless adventurer once again.
In April 1802 he was obliged to decamp from Devonshire, leaving his wife and children as before, while his partners in Tiverton, who soon discovered that they had been defrauded by a swindler, proceeded to strike his name off the books of the firm. During the following June he was declared a bankrupt. Meanwhile he had proceeded to cut a dash in London, and it is said that he came forward as candidate for Queenborough, with the object of obtaining immunity from arrest as a member of Parliament. Being still provided with funds, he made no attempt to surrender to the commission issued against him; but compelled, through fear of exposure, to relinquish his political ambitions, he went on a leisurely tour through Scotland and Ireland, and in the month of July appeared at Keswick as ‘Colonel Hope’ to work the crowning mischief of his life.