GRETNA GREEN AND ITS MARRIAGES.
A few miles beyond the walls of ‘merrie Carlisle,’ and only just across the Border on the Scottish side, is a lonely old-world little village, whither, in days not yet remote, frequent couples, in life’s bright golden time, hurriedly resorted; no less eager to cross the bridge spanning the river Sark, which here forms the boundary of the two kingdoms, than, with blind trust in the future, to undertake the all-untried responsibilities of forbidden wedlock. The village itself consists of a long straight street of cleanly whitewashed houses, beyond which stretches the solitary tract of Solway moss, scene of many a Border foray, and of one miserable ‘rout’ in the days of the Scottish Jameses; while, towards England, the landscape is bounded by the ‘skyey heads’ of the Cumberland mountains, clad in such hues of grayish green as nature uses to modify her distant tints. Curious to view a spot so far renowned, albeit without design of invoking aid from any chance survivor of the ‘high-priests of Gretna Green,’ we alighted on the platform of its roadside station on the Glasgow and South-Western Railway one summer afternoon, and pursuing our way towards the village in company with a not uncommunicative policeman, quickly found many illusions dispelled, by no means least the widespread legend as to the officiating blacksmith. Our attention was ere long called to the figure of a middle-aged, by no means clerical-looking man, at the time engaged in filling his pipe by the wayside, with whom we entered into conversation. Nowise anxious to magnify his apostleship, our new friend somewhat deprecatingly acknowledged that the priestly mantle had descended upon his too unworthy shoulders, and that, indeed, but a few days prior to our visit, he had been called on to exercise the weighty functions of his office.
This man, by trade a mason, spoke, not without regret, of the good old days when fugitive lovers crowded to the Border village, the poorer sort being most often united at the tollhouse just across the bridge, while the more well-to-do betook themselves to the hotel, which, though no longer devoted to uses hymeneal, still stands at the entrance of the village street. The priestly office, it was said, had been filled, more or less worthily, by many, who, claiming no unbroken descent, had in a somewhat casual sort of way succeeded to it; and amongst others concerned in what certainly appeared to have been the staple trade of the place, the local postman was indicated as custodian of registers reaching back into the palmy days of Border marriage, and containing names no less remarkable for nobility of birth than for the possession of wealth and acres.
Left at length to ourselves, we passed onward up the village street; not a few small inns were there, the landlady of one of the very least of which assured us that as many as nine couples at a time had, in days when business was brisk, sought the shelter of her tiny roof. A little way farther on, we did not fail to notice the name of ‘Lord Erskine’ scratched upon an ancient and decidedly rickety pane in a window of the Queen’s Head, where also is exhibited, framed and glazed of course, his so-called marriage certificate, in form precisely as in use to-day, thus: ‘Kingdom of Scotland, County of Dumfries, Parish of Gretna.—These are to certify, to all whom they may concern, that ——, from the parish of ——, in the county of ——; and ——, from the parish of ——, in the county of ——, being now both here present, and having declared to me that they are single persons, have now been married after the manner of the laws of Scotland. As witness our hands at Gretna Green, this — day of —— 188-.’ Witnesses (two in number).
That a marriage like this can still be solemnised between ‘such as will not get them to church, and have a good priest that can tell them what marriage is,’ may come as a surprise to many who have believed that the glories of Gretna Green lay all in the past. Not only, however, had we the assurance of our friend the mason; but a tale of recent matrimonial venture was imparted, as evidence conclusive that Border marriage is even now an occurrence by no means unfrequent. The dramatis personæ in this real nineteenth-century romance were a young English lady, who, as a visitor at a neighbouring resort of pleasure, had satisfied the requisite condition of three weeks’ residence in Scotland by one of the parties; and a young officer in an infantry regiment. Taking the train one fine morning to Gretna Green, the lady was met at the station by her intended bridegroom, with whom she was speedily and indissolubly, according to local rite, made one for aye. Neither can any man say that ‘not being well married, it will be a good excuse for him hereafter to leave his wife,’ because, provided that two witnesses be present and the questions put be satisfactorily replied to, weddings such as these lack nought of the legal validity and obligation of those contracted with pealing organ and the most ceremoniously conducted ecclesiastical display. The Act of 1856 only makes Scotch marriages illegal in the case of one or other of the parties not having resided for three weeks in the kingdom of Scotland, thereby putting a stop to many runaway marriages, especially among servants, who came across in numbers from Carlisle at the season of annual hirings.
Not very long since, a faithless swain, weary prematurely of vows exchanged at Gretna Green, and doubting somewhat, it may be, of the holiness of the estate inaugurated by rites so maimed, betook himself, in the company of another and, to him, doubtless fairer bride, to a Roman Catholic priest in a southern Scottish burgh, who all unwittingly solemnised a marriage between them, destined to work no small evil to the fickle bridegroom; for mark how well the sequel hangs together. The deceiver, a sadder and perchance wiser man, torn from the arms of his too credulous bride, a Niobe all tears, was hauled before the outraged majesty of law, and compelled to undergo the penalties, not trivial, awarded to crimes of perjury and bigamy.
Whatever peculiar popularity as a marriage-resort may have been enjoyed by Gretna Green is doubtless due to the convenience and accessibility of its situation on the Great North Road; for here is no instance of especial virtue residing in local fountains, but merely of such virtue—if, indeed, one may so use the term—as is participated in by every other spot of ground within the whole realm of Scotland; nor, indeed, as a matter of fact, were Coldstream and Lamberton near Berwick without some measure of peculiar advantage, which they offered to those impatient ones who, from the more eastern counties, were minded to avail themselves of the proximity of the Scottish Border.
The origin of these marriages has been sought by some in the wild habits of times far distant, when lack of clergy in the district was to some extent supplied by the ministrations of friars from the adjacent abbeys of Melrose and Jedburgh, who in the course of their perambulations performed the rites of baptism and marriage. The Borderer, nowise forgetful, ere setting forth on expeditions of rapine and plunder, to tell his beads right zealously, was yet grossly ignorant about many things; nor had he access to any other source of enlightenment than the ‘Book-a-bosoms,’ as the mass-book was called, from the habit of the wandering ecclesiastics carrying it in their bosoms. Thus it was that stout William of Deloraine seemed, to the astonished eyes of the Goblin Page, so strangely to resemble one of these friars, when
As the corselet off he took,
The Dwarf espied the mighty Book!