It is said that the Fleet Street marriages of London originated with the incumbents of Trinity, Minories, and St James’s, Duke Place. The incumbents claimed to be exempt from the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London, and performed the marriages without banns or license. It is not exactly known in what year these gentlemen started their lucrative profession; but one named Elliot, who was rector of St James’s, was suspended by the Bishop of London in 1616 for performing these ceremonies. The trade was then taken up by clerical prisoners living within the Rules of the Fleet; and Mr Burn tells us that, as a rule, these were just the men—having neither money, character, nor liberty to lose—to adopt the profession; and he further says that they were in the main ‘lusty jolly fellows, but thorough rogues and vagabonds, guilty of various offences.’ That they were not ashamed of the business is evident from the fact that they advertised in the Daily Advertiser of that year to the following effect: ‘G. R.—At the true chapel, at the old Red Hand and Mitre, three doors up Fleet Lane, and next door to the White Swan, marriages are performed by authority by the Rev. Mr Symson, educated at the university of Cambridge, and late chaplain to the Earl of Rothes.—N.B. Without imposition.’
‘J. Lilley, at the Hand and Pen, next door to the China Shop, Fleet Bridge, London, will be performed the solemnisation of marriages by a gentleman regularly bred at one of our universities, and lawfully ordained according to the institutions of the Church of England, and is ready to wait on any person in town or country.’
There must have been great competition in the business, for we are told that there might be seen in corners of windows tickets stating ‘Weddings performed cheap here,’ ‘The Old and True Register,’ &c. But the great trade was at the ‘marriage houses’ whose landlords were also publicans, the Bishop Blaire, the Horseshoe and Magpie, the Fighting Cocks, the Sawyers, the Hand and Pen, the Bull and Garter, and the King’s Head, the last two being kept by warders of the Fleet prison.
The parson and landlord—the latter usually acting as clerk—divided the fees between them, after paying a shilling to the tout who brought in the customers.
The Grub Street Journal of January 1735 has the following: ‘There are a set of drunken, swearing parsons, with their myrmidons, who wear black coats, and pretend to be clerks and registers of the Fleet, and who ply about Ludgate Hill, pulling and forcing people to some peddling alehouse or brandy-shop to be married; even on a Sunday, stopping them as they are going to church and almost tearing their clothes off their backs.’
This is confirmed by Pennant, who says: ‘In walking along the streets in my youth, on the side next the prison, I have often been tempted by the question, “Sir, will you be pleased to walk in and be married?” The parson was seen walking before his shop, a squalid, profligate figure, clad in a tattered plaid nightgown, with a fiery face, and ready to couple you for a dram of gin or a roll of tobacco.’
Ladies who were possessed, or supposed to possess means, were often kidnapped and forced to marry ruffians whom they had never seen. For instance, we read that a young lady of birth and fortune was forced from her friends, ‘and by the assistance of a wry-necked swearing parson, married to an atheistical wretch, whose life was a continual practice of all manner of vice.’
Again, we learn that a young lady appointed to meet a gentlewoman at the Old Playhouse, Drury Lane; but something prevented the gentlewoman coming, and the young lady being alone when the play was over, told a boy to fetch a coach for the city. ‘One 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 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 girl begged to be excused; but the man told the coachman to drive on. The result was that she was driven to a house, where she was induced to go in on the pretext of seeing the man’s sister, who would accompany her the rest of the journey. The sister came, but immediately vanished, and in her place appeared a ‘tawny fellow in a black coat and black wig,’ who said: ‘Madam, you are come in good time; the doctor was just agoing!’
‘The doctor!’ exclaimed the girl; ‘what has the doctor to do with me?’