Oct 02 1834 Coleridge and The Beauty of Buttermere part #2 - Cumberland and Westmorland Newspaper Transcriptions

Oct 02 1834 Coleridge and The Beauty of Buttermere part #2

The Times, Thursday, Oct 02, 1834; pg. 3; Issue 16598; col D

COLERIDGE - THE "LAKE SCHOOL," - AND
                  THE "BEAUTY OF BUTTERMERE."   part #2
                                ----------------------
                               (From Tait's Magazine.)

At this time, when COLERIDGE first settled at the Lakes, or not long after, a
romantic and somewhat tragical affair drew the eyes of all England, and for many
years continued to draw the steps of tourists, to one of the most secluded
Cumberland valleys, so little visited previously that it might be described
almost as an undiscovered chamber of that romantic district. COLERIDGE was
brought into a closer connexion with this affair than merely by the general
relation of neighbourhood; for an article of his in a morning paper, I believe,
unintentionally furnished the original clew for unmasking the base impostor who
figured as the foremost actor in this tale. Other generations have arisen since
that time, who must naturally be unacquainted with the circumstances; and, on
their account, I shall here recall them. One day in the lake season, there drove
up to the Royal Oak, the principal inn at Keswick, a handsome and well-appointed
travelling carriage, containing one gentleman of somewhat dashing exterior. The
stranger was a picturesque-hunter, but not of that order who fly round the
ordinary tour with the velocity of lovers posting to Gretna, or of criminals
running from the police; his purpose was to domiciliate himself in this
beautiful scenery, and to see it at his leisure. From Keswick, as his
head-quarters, he made excursions in every direction amongst the neighbouring
vallies, 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 Hon. Augustus HOPE." Under this name he gave himself out
for a brother of Lord HOPETOUN, whose great income was well known, and perhaps
exaggerated amongst the dalesmen of northern England. Some persons had
discernment enough to doubt of this; for the man's breeding and deportment,
though showy, had a tang of vulgarity about it; and COLERIDGE assured me, that
he was grossly ungrammatical in his ordinary conversation. However, one fact,
soon dispersed by the people of a little rustic post-office, laid asleep all
demurs; he not only received letters addressed to him under this assumed name, -
that might be through collision [sic] with accomplices, - but he himself
continually franked letters by that name. Now, that being a capital offence,
being 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 Scotsman. It could be no blame to a shepherd
girl, bred in the sternest solitude which England has to show, that she should
fall into a snare which hardly any of her betters had escaped. Nine miles from
Keswick, by the nearest bridle road, but 14 or 15 by any route which the hon.
gentleman's travelling carriage could have traversed, lies the Lake of
Buttermere. Its margin, which is overhung by some of the loftiest and steepest
of the 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 his
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 miniature domain, upon the road side, 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, and I
believe 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 the traveller and his horse.
Rare, however, must have been the mounted traveller in those days, unless
visiting Buttermere for itself, and as a terminus ad quem; 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. His errand was to witness or to share in the 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. But, whatever had
been his first object, that was speedily forgotten in one more deeply
interesting. The daughter of the house, a fine young woman of 18, acted as
waitress. In a situation so solitary, the stranger had unlimited facilities for
enjoying her company, and recommending himself to her favour. Doubts about his
pretensions never arose in so simple a place as this; they were overruled 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. I know not whether the marriage was, or could have been, celebrated in
the little mountain chapel of Buttermere. If it were, I persuade myself that the
most hardened villain must have felt a momentary pang on violating the altar of
such a chapel, so touchingly does it express, by its miniature dimensions, the
almost helpless humility of that little pastoral community to whose spiritual
wants it has from generation to generation administered. It is not only the very
smallest chapel by many degrees in all England, but it is so mere a toy in
outward appearance, that were it not for its antiquity, its wild mountainous
exposure, and its consecrated connexion with the final hopes and fears of the
adjacent pastoral hamlet - but for these considerations, the first movement of a
stranger's feelings would be towards loud laughter; for the little chapel looks
not so much a mimic chapel in a drop-scene from the Opera-house, as a miniature
copy from such a scene, and evidently could not receive within its walls more
than a half-dozen of households. From this sanctuary it was - from beneath the
maternal shadow, if not from the altar of this lonely chapel - that the
heartless villain carried off the flower of the mountains. Between this place
and Keswick they continued to move backwards and forwards, until at length, with
the startling of a thunderclap to the affrighted mountaineers, the bubble burst:
officers of justice appeared: the stranger was easily intercepted from flight;
and, upon a capital charge, was borne away to Carlisle. At the ensuing assizes
he was tried for forgery, on the prosecution of the Post-office; found guilty,
left for execution, and executed accordingly.

Petra