representations to be
true, gave his consent at the first interview, and on the day after
the marriage presented the bridegroom with L1500.

The fellow was in reality a great scamp. A short time after he got the
money he set out for London, purchased a carriage, frequented the most
famous coffee-houses, and represented himself to be a near relation of
the Rutland family, and the possessor of large estates in Yorkshire.
The marriage portion was soon exhausted, and when he had borrowed from
every person who would lend him money he disappeared from the
fashionable world as abruptly as he had entered it. Little was heard
of his movements for several years, when he suddenly turned up again
as boastful, if not as resplendent, as ever. By this time his wife had
borne three daughters to him; but he regarded both her and them as
hateful encumbrances, and deserted them, leaving them to be supported
by the precarious charity of her relations. The poor woman did not
long survive his ill-usage and neglect, and died in 1782. Hatfield
himself found great difficulty in raising money, and was, at last,
thrown into the King's Bench prison for a debt of L160. Here he was
very miserable, and was in such absolute destitution that he excited
the pity of some of his former associates and victims who had retained
sufficient to pay their jail expenses, and they often invited him to
dinner and supplied him with food. He never lost his assurance; and,
although he was perfectly well aware that his real character was
known, still continued to boast of his kennels, of his Yorkshire park,
and of his estate in Rutlandshire, which he asserted was settled upon
his wife; and usually wound up his complaint by observing how annoying
it was that a gentleman who at that very time had thirty men engaged
in beautifying his Yorkshire property should be locked up in a filthy
jail, by a miserable tradesman, for a paltry debt.

Among others to whom he told this cock-and-bull story was a clergyman
who came to the prison to visit Valentine Morris, the ex-governor of
St. Vincent, who was then one of the inmates; and he succeeded in
persuading the unsuspecting divine to visit the Duke of Rutland, and
lay his case before him as that of a near relative. Of course the
duke repudiated all connection with him, and all recollection of him;
but a day or two later, when he remembered that he was the man who had
married the natural daughter of Lord Robert Manners, he sent L2