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Gretna Marriages—Wakefield and
Miss Turner.
Now, reader, keep your temper,
pray,
For here come chafing deeds:
Such deeds are not writ every day
For every one who reads.
Had not the facts—most
extraordinary, most astounding—which we are now about to enter upon, been
brought before the public in the newspapers at the time of their occurrence,
we should have hesitated to mention them here. As the case is, we reveal no
secrets; we only repeat what has been before told. The matter might have
been allowed to die a natural death ; but how could we, as the professed
historian of- Gretna Green, omit noticing one of the most remarkable
transactions that have ever taken place within its confines, whether in
ancient or in modern times? The historian who is true to his name, has no
choice; he must take up each event chronologically as it happened, and must
know no partiality towards any individual or any party.
Had we been writing an epic,
which we take to be a fiction in its details, we might have connived at, or
glossed over, or omitted, painful facts, and in their places have
substituted the flights of an unfettered imagination, as it is, we are
supposed to have no imagination ; but are in duty bound to plod onward in a
direct line, whether our labours conduct us through savage wildernesses of
vice, or through smiling gardens of virtue.
It was about an hour or so
after high noon, on the 8th of March, in the year 1826, when a green
carriage and four ran over the bridge that spans the Sark, through the
turnpike-gate, after the manner of "a greased flash of lightning," too quick
for Simon Beatie to stop,—and tearing up the hill " like mad," as Fanny
Kemble says, made direct for the Hall. Here the postilions thrust their feet
forward and threw their heads back, the consequence was, the curbs were
pulled tight, and the horses stood still. Off they bounced, and ran to the
carriage door. John Linton, landlord of the said hostelrie, came to the
entrance to welcome the travellers to his house. They alighted and went in,
but the room was small and cheerless.
"Frances, girl, go you up
stairs and light a fire in the drawing-room directly," said John Linton.
But we are especially curious
to know who came in the carriage—what are their names, and where—
Don't be in a hurry. The
priest will be with them in a minute; in fact, he had been sent for as soon
as they arrived. They waited about twenty minutes or half an hour, and then,
sure enough, "the parson, or whatever you call him" — "The blacksmith you
mean," as Mr. Sergeant Cross exclaimed in court during the subsequent
trial—to wit, David Laing, came to wed them in propria persona. He looked as
clerical as may be ; and the timid ones felt a sort of sinking within them,
as nervous people do upon such particular occasions. There were two
gentlemen and a young—a very young lady ; the bridegroom seemed old enough
to be her father. But where is the prayer-book? Oh ! never mind that; we
shall do just as well without it here. Now, when they were all collected
together—not under a groined roof before the altar—but in the room of a
country inn, with tavern-keepers, postboys, and pedlars, all together in
company, David Laing, the so-called blacksmith, (who never was a
blacksmith,) asked them if they were willing to become man and wife. And
before the witnesses there in presence, they answered they were willing.
And then they took a ring for
the lady's finger—a wedding-ring. Now, it was David who put it on, " the
parson, or what you call him." But the ring is too large by a mile—it is too
large for her finger ; what is to be done ? Oh! it will do till we get to
Calais, we will buy a smaller one there. The fact is, there was no
opportunity for taking a fit before hand, such were the circumstances of the
case; it was quite a guess. It goes on very well, but the lady must take
care and not lose it.
A piece of paper like a
placard was then produced, at the head of which stood the royal arms of the
united kingdom ; and underneath were certain words printed, the lines of
which were broken and interrupted here and there by divers white spaces
therein left unprinted. Now, in order to the thorough consummation of the
ceremony, it was expedient that these spaces should be filled up with the
several names of the parties joined together in (holy !) matrimony, and with
the names of the witnesses.
"There is nothing more than
to fill up these spaces," said Laing; "there—just so. Now sir, you will put
your name in the right hand corner; and, ma'am, you will put yours under
it—so. The witnesses will put theirs in the other corner. It is the custom
to join hands and salute. "Now," cried David Laing, parson, merchant, day-labourer,
pedlar, or what you will, "Now I declare you to be man and wife, 4 and so
on,' before these witnesses." And the said David wished them well, and shook
hands with them.
The signatures were Edward
Gibbon Wakefield— Ellen Turner—Ellen Wakefield!
Then Mr. Wakefield asked of
his priest what sort of wine John Linton might have in his cellar, and this
presupposed by innuendo that he had before that time had a dip therein;
moreover, this presupposition seemeth not to have been preposterous, because
David answered that " there were three or four different sorts of wine, with
the best of shumpine.'1' The. bridegroom inquired which he would take; "I
said shumpine," answered David, "and we had a bottle of shumpine.''''
Dinner was then announced, so
David Laing withdrew down stairs for half an hour or so, when he returned
and finished the champagne, of which he was especially enamoured. Then came
the day of reckoning—the moment of retribution. The following is a scattered
extract from the published trial.
David Laing sworn. Examined
by Mr. Parke.
Mr. Laing, I believe you
reside at Springfield?—Yes, I do. Near Gretna Hall?—Yes.
Do you recollect being sent
for to marry a couple on the 8th of March last?—I do. (The trial being in
March the year after.)
Did you go to Mr. Linton's
house, at Gretna Hall?—I did. Who did you find there ?—I found two
gentlemen, as it may be, and a lady—one lady.
* * * * *
What did the gentleman want
you to do?—He wanted me to do what I have done to many a one before.—Was
that to marry him?—To join them together—to join hands, and so on.
* * *
*
Did you give a certificate of
the marriage?—I gave the lady a certificate.
Did you get it filled
up?—Yes.
Is that your
writing?—{handing the certificate to the witness.)— That is my handwriting,
sir.
Is that the signature of the
gentleman and lady at the bottom? —Yes.
* * * * *
Did you marry them in the
usual form in Scotland?—In the Scotch form. Was there a ring produced?—There
was, sir. Was it put on the lady's finger?—It was.
By whom—by the gentleman?—By
myself.
* * * * *
Did you ask the lady for
anything?—I told the lady that I generally had a present from them, as it
may be, of such a thing as money, to buy a pair of gloves.
Well, did you get any from
her?—I did, sir ; she gave it me with her own hand ; but where the lady got
it from I cannot say for that, you know.
What was it you got ?—A 20s.
Bank of England note.
* * * * *
Cross-examined by Mb.
Brougham.
You got some money as well as
champagne for this job, did you not?—I did.
How much?—Perhaps £20 or £30.
Perhaps £40?—May be; I cannot
say to a few pounds.
* * * * *
David Laing again called, and
examined by Mr. Parke.
Mr. Laing, you say the
marriage was in the ordinary form— the marriage ceremony was performed in
the ordinary form?— Yes, the old form of Scotland.
How was that done—was a
prayer-book produced?—No, there was not.
Mr. Brougham. Don't tell him
what he is to say.
It was done in the old
ordinary form of the church of Scotland, was it?—Yes.
Cross-examined by Mr.
Brougham.
What do you mean by the
ordinary form of the church of Scotland, when it had nothing to do with the
church?—That is the way it has been done for centimes.
It would occupy too many
pages of this veritable history, if we were to make copious extracts, or to
enter much into details; wherefore, somewhat against our disposition at this
present, we are enforced, through the suggestions of this reflection, to
desist from quoting any more just now. |
