And all the night sat melancholy,
For he had a mind for the bride."
There are four more verses, but they are not worth transcribing—besides, there is a very good prose account of the doings at the Fleet, which, certainly, bears the impress of truth. It is in No. 270 of the Grub Street Journal, Feb. 27, 1735:—
"Sir, There is a very great evil in this town, and of dangerous consequence to our sex, that has never been suppressed, to the great prejudice, and ruin, of many hundreds of young people, every year; which I beg some of your learned heads to consider of, and consult of proper ways and means to prevent for the future: I mean the ruinous marriages that are practised in the liberty of the Fleet, and thereabouts, by a sett of drunken, swearing parsons, with their Myrmidons that wear black coats, and pretend to be clerks, and registers to the Fleet. These ministers of wickedness ply about Ludgate Hill, pulling and forcing people to some pedling alehouse, or brandy shop, to be married, even on a sunday, stopping them as they go to church, and almost tearing their cloaths off their backs. To confirm the truth of these facts, I will give you a case or two, which lately happened:—
"Since midsummer last, a young lady of birth and fortune, was deluded and forced from her friends, by the assistance of a very wicked, swearing parson, married to an atheistical wretch, whose life is a continual practice of all manner of vice and debauchery. And, since the ruin of my relation, another lady of my acquaintance had like to have been trapanned in the following manner:—
"This lady had appointed to meet a gentlewoman at the Old Play-house in Drury Lane; but extraordinary business prevented her coming. Being alone, when the play was done, she bade a boy call a coach for the City. One drest like a gentleman helps her into it, and jumps in after her. 'Madam,' says he, 'this coach was called for me: and since the weather is so bad, and there is no other, I beg leave to bear you company; I am going into the City, and will set you down wherever you please.' The lady begged to be excused; but he bade the coachman drive on. Being come to Ludgate hill, he told her his sister, who waited his coming, but five doors up the Court, would go with her in two minutes. He went, and returned with his pretended sister, who asked her to step in one minute, and she would wait upon her in the coach.
"Deluded with the assurance of having his sister's company, the poor lady foolishly followed her into the house, when, instantly, the sister vanish'd; and a tawny fellow in a black coat and black wig appeared. 'Madam, you are come in good time, the doctor was just a going.' 'The doctor,' says she, horribly frighted, fearing it was a madhouse; 'What has the doctor to do with me?' 'To marry you to that gentleman: the doctor has waited for you these three hours, and will be payed by you or the gentleman before you go.' 'That gentleman,' says she, recovering herself, 'is worthy a better fortune than mine.' And begged hard to be gone. But doctor Wryneck swore she shou'd be married; or, if she wou'd not, he would still have his fee, and register the marriage from that night. The lady, finding she could not escape without money or a pledge, told them she liked the gentleman so well, she would certainly meet him to-morrow night, and gave them a ring as a pledge: which, says she, 'was my mother's gift on her deathbed, injoining that if ever I married, it should be my wedding ring.' By which cunning contrivance, she was delivered from the black doctor, and his tawny crew.
"Some time after this, I went with this lady, and her brother, in a coach to Ludgate Hill, in the day time, to see the manner of their picking up people to be married. As soon as our coach stopt near Fleet Bridge, up comes on of the Myrmidons. 'Madam,' says he, 'you want a parson.' 'Who are you?' says I. 'I am the clerk and register of the Fleet.' 'Show me the Chapel.' At which comes a second, desiring me to go along with him. Says he, 'That fellow will carry you to a pedling alehouse. Says a third, 'Go with me, he will carry you to a brandy shop.' In the interim, comes the doctor. 'Madam,' says he, 'I'll do your jobb for you presently.' 'Well, gentlemen,' says I, 'since you can't agree, and I can't be married quietly, I'll put it off 'till another time,' so drove away."
Some of the stories of Fleet Marriages read like romances, yet they are all taken from contemporary accounts. Here, for instance, is a fact, scarcely to be believed nowadays:— "Jan. 5, 1742. On Tuesday last two Persons, one of Skinner Street, and the other of Webb's Square, Spittle Fields, exchang'd Wives, to whom they had been married upwards of twelve Years; and the same Day, to the Content of all Parties, the Marriages were consummated at the Fleet. Each Husband gave his Wife away to the other, and in the Evening had an Entertainment together."
Or this from the Whitehall Evening Post, July 24, 1739:— "On Tuesday last a Woman indifferently well dress'd came to the sign of the Bull and Garter, next Door to the Fleet Prison, and was there married to a Soldier; in the afternoon she came again, and would have been married to a Butcher, but that Parson who had married her in the Morning refused to marry her again, which put her to the Trouble of going a few Doors further, to another Parson, who had no Scruple."
Here is another story indicative of the Manners and Morals of those days:— Oct. 1739. "Last Week, a merry Widow, near Bethnal Green, having a pretty many Admirers, not to be over Cruel, she equally dispensed her Favours between two, who were the highest in her Esteem. The one, a Butcher, meeting the good Woman, took the Advantage of the others Absence, and pleaded his Cause so successfully, that they tuck'd up their Tails, trudg'd to the Fleet, and were tack'd together. Home they both jogg'd to their several habitations, the Bridegroom to his, and the Bride to her's. Soon after came another of her Admirers, an honest Weaver, who, upon hearing of the Melancholy News, had no more Life in him for some time than one of the Beams of his Loom; but, recovering himself a little from the Surprize he was seized with a sudden Delirium, swore his Loom should be his Gibbet, and he'd hang himself pendant at the End of his Garter, if he also was not tack'd to his comfortable Rib: The good Widow, considering that the Butcher had not bedded with her, and desirous of preventing Murder, consented, and away she jogg'd to be coupled to the Weaver. On their return home, to Bed they went, and the Butcher coming to see his dear Spouse, found her in Bed with the Weaver; upon which a Quarrel ensued, and the Butcher being the best Man, she left the Weaver and went to the Butcher, being willing to please them both, as well as she could."
