The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1826-05-23 00:00:00

.i

MR. EDWARD GIBBON W.IKEFIEI.D.

Tha tollowing extraordinary letter appeared in a Sunday Paper.
We doubt its authenticity ; but as relating to a natter of some no.
toriety, we lay it before our readers:—
a STATEMENT or FACTS, ItrOARDINC: THE atArtrilAGE or
T. O. mAxEriEf.EO WITH Miss TURNER.
In the end of February I went to Macclesfield, for the purpose of
paying a long-promised visit to my friend, the Rev. Dr. Davao.
At that time I had heard 31r. Turner's name mentioned, but merely
in casual conversation about Cheshire people ; and I had no more
knowledge or thought of his daughter, or any of her family, thou I
have of people in the moon. l will now state how I clinic to think
of her, and to do what I have done. Mr. Turner has lately pur-
eha.ed an cattle near Macclesfield. Upon this property he line
built a house, into which, when 1 was in Cheshire, he was about
to remove. He is Sheriff for the county Ibis year. Mr. punter
having, till the late purchase, been a strschcr to the rourrli, and
having, as is said, made a very large fortune by trade, which he
has diacontinuetl. to became, all at once, what is celled a "coun.
a,y gentleman," it is not ettrptiaing that he shmild be an object of
jealottay to the old mrehlished gentry, and of envy to the numernue
ananuracturers of he neighbourhood where he has settled. But on.
less I had witnessed it, I never would have believed that
I:`..sse pesseins could evict to the extent in which I found
them preying upon the pc.tre of Mr. Turner's neighbours.
A wish to obtain iiiformetioti ressecting the silk 'lade (of which
'' :he distress" has of late been • subject of deep Interest at iliac-
cle‘firld) led nu into the company of the people, and particularly
wrongs, some, whole hatred of the " new squire" seemed, like die
thritm tbrolog;ottia, to he great in proportion to the little differ:
race that exists between his station and theirs. Tine display (which,
,probably, I never should have witnessed, unless the envy and
jealousy of Mr. Turner's " friends and acquaintances" had been
just then particularly excited by his preparations to " do honour,"
sr they said, " to the office of Sheriff") was so new, end therefore
au amusing to me, that I was led by a mere flow of spirits, and the
want of some better occupation, to take pleasore in observing it,
and afterwards in exciting such pitiful spite, by finding provoking
answers to the many illmatured stories against Mr. Turner, of
which such spite appeared to be the only principal foundation. Of
curse, amidst all this back-biting, Mr. Turcer's only daughter
was not forgotten. She was described as ugly, ignorant, awkward,
and vulgar. 1 was truly informed, however, that Ilia 'turner was
a pretty, clever, unusually weld.edurated, high-spirited, and most
atnieble girl; and I was thus enabled to seize every opportunity of
describing her in all the colours of therainbow. A good listener
must often contradict. The Macclesfield School for Scandal, and
one Sir B. Backbite in particular, found me an inappreciable
audience for their stele emus, till at last my ears rung with Miss
Turner's name, and I became her champion, ea well as her father'a.
Still I had no thought of marrying her. I had sought and enjoyed
the fun of talking about her and her father. because the people at
blacelestiekl would, with the exception of the silk trade, talk about
etching Mae, and I have said before, because my high spirits had no
better employment; but if l had left Macclesfield twodays sooner then
1 should in a week have forgotten Bliss T.'s name, and all that
concerns her, as completely as I now forget how and when it was that I
Learned die alphabet. But on one of thelaetelays of my stay at Maccles.
field. I heard a discussion as to whether any " country gentlemen"
wrield accompany the High bheriff on his way to the Chester As-
sr:es. This diecuseion ended in the expression of a general opinion
In the negative. My friend, Dr. Davies, who is one of the most
noble-minded persons I know, was near me at the time. I asked
him, with a look and manner that begged him to say'ses,"
w:iether he would join Mr. Turner's proceasion. Ile answered,
" Fes, that I will, if it is only to show that I do not share people's
spiteful jealousy." Old knows why !—I cannot tell—but I ex-
claimed, "So will I!" A thought, a wish, a determination just
then entered my head. It was, that I would marry Miss Turner
myself before the Chester Melees, and get up such ant escort for
her father, as moat have driven the most bilious of his detractors
mad. Nothing could appear so preposterously extravagant. All
I knew of Miss Turner was, that she was at school at Liverpool.
I had no chance of meeting her. Meeting her, I had no chance of
persuading her to marry ins without her father's consent ; and
his content was out of the question, for I bad made an appoint-
ment at Calais within six days from that time, and I would not
allow any thing to interfere with that engagement. What fully !
what matinees I I exclaimed; and yet I could not drive the crazy
wish front my head. I foresaw that, even though I should persuade
Miss Turner to marry me. I should obtain, not a rich heiress, but a
beggar; for I knew that she bad no property in her own right, and I
beard enough of the vindictiveness of her father's temper to be almost
certain that he would never forgive us. I thought of the passion of
hatred towards tnyself that would probably take possession of him,
of the apparent impoleibility of success: of the great danger of the
attempt, of the world's reproaches, and of everything that would
have deterred me, had I been in my senses, from committing the
set of a madman. Still i hail not entirely lost my senses, for my
determination to marry Miss Turner was clogged with three very
repot-able conditions. They were, first, that I should find her to
be a sort of person •liont I could love and cherish for her own sake;
secondly, that I should Ming her to believe that she would be
hippy in marrying me ; and thirdly, that I would not use force, or
the shadow of force, nor even put the slightest restraint on her in.
e!Mationa, in any part of the adventure. Here was a task ! To
marry within three days a person of whom I knew so little, and
whore knowledge of me mutt have been equally limited, and (foe
this male the difficulties alitioat insurmountable) to become pleased
with her, and make her pleased stilt me. before even proposing mar-
riage to hell—The apparent impoasihility of the thing urged me on;
and I pursued Its execution with reckless activity. I formed and
rejected plan after plan, till, at test, I decided on that which in.
duced the eelloolmiitrem to give me the opportunity I desired of
sooveraing with bliss Turner. My servant, who was not above
half in the secret, was so frightened at. the success of his own grave
aced umwspiclous deporlinsnt, that lie made a capital blunder, by
leaving me at Liverpool, end proceeding with Miss Turner to.
wards Shrigley. She will 3u miles before me on her way towards
home, before I discovered that abe had left Liverpool. I followed,
of coarse, intending, bad they reached Shrigley, to drive there at
o tee, and get my servant out of the scrape at any rate. But fate
hsd dxreedthat Mies Turner should wait at an hotel at Manches-
ter, close to !re house or one of her favourite uncles, for more than
two hours, without the sign of impatient°. On Yearliing the inn, I
itroduced myself to her, not by telling her my name, nor indeed
a..y.otherwise than by saying that the carriage would be ready in a
moment. I then talked of her journey, of the rata, of a curious
clock which we could see from the inn windows, and, Indeed, of any
thing that might prevent heresking qtteetiors for which I should
have no answers. She was not in the least alarmed, but answered me
cheerfully and aptly upon every subject. In ten minutes the carriage
was ready. She held my arm whilst I stood in the hall talking to a
waiter, joined me in wishing the landlady good day, and entered
the carriage amidst a crowd of idle gazers, whom my hurried sr-
cowl had collected round the inn. She had very often been at Man.
eiloster, and knew perfectly that the horses' heath otere tutned In
so opposite direction to the toad to Shrigley. When I entered the
carriage, the wooden blintls were reject,. I lowered their', fearing
that such an appearance of ctncealment might excite curiosity ;
and, after asking her if she had forcotten nothing, ordered the
bons to drive on. 'I he first titi-g I said to her in the carriage was,
" Do you know why you have been sent fur from school r—"Yee,"
she said, " Miss Daulny told me, though she was desired not to
tell me, that my mother is Ill." I immediately assured her that
this was not the care; that I had reasons for deceiving Mina
Paulby ; that :Mrs. Turner was, I believed, quite well; and that
shs ahould have a full explanation by and by. She scented grati.
Med to leant that her mother was rot ill, and neither expressed nor
site wed the slightest anxiety to know more. I then exerted every
power of my nand to amuse and please her. My great object woe
to dies her out ; to see what sort of a mind she had ; to learn
what had been her education, and what were her opinions, man-
ner% and habits. 1 soon discovered (what our subsequent close
tattinacy has fully confirmed) that she has a vivid itnagication,
and a judgment beyripd her years. Why, theu, it may be asked,
were not her suspicions excited ? Because, 1 tensor?, her imagi.
station enabled one to discover, at once, the subjects that Interested
her ; and by turning that discovery to account, to make myself an
object of interest to her ; and she felt no alarm in my company,
because het judgment enabled her to see slid feel the great pains
that I took to treat bas with the delicate aid respectful, yet
tenter kindness, that her extraordinary situation demanded. It
must be difficult for say one to tin 'gine what actually occurred;
but I assert, :hat if she had been a fool (as the newspapers have in-
destriously remesented her) she would probably have hesitated to
continue thejoumey with me. As it was, not a s'utelow of alarm,
or even of suspicion, ever crossed her mind. A mate of high ex.
eltement caused my spirits to overdo,. She was almost ego:J.ly
elated. We talked and leughed incessantly. Never in my lime did
I say so much in the 'ease time. All subjects came under discus.
sine—the gravest said the most ridiculous—the n:o.t important and
the most Wittig. Her quickness, imandlation, and good sense,
astonished and delighted me. lowead tit having to bring my con.
verea•ion down to toe capacity of en ordinary vars.! girl, I found
that I could talk on at raildnin, and eaa• she understood every word
I said. she, toe, was gratified to discover that I enjoyed her dls.
play of a natural wit and keen sense Of the ridiculous, with which
site is gifted. Marriages, It Is said, are made in heaven ; ours was
made by the first two hours of our conversatien. It mar be asked
if I had found her ugly, ignorant, and vulgar, as she hail once been
described to me, what should I lave done ? My mind was quite
made up. I should have taken her back to Liverpool, desired the
school.mistress to send immediately fur Mt. Turner, and should
have left with her, for him, a partial account of my freak—urging
ben to conceal it for his child's mite. I had not mentioned marriage
to her. As my motives for taking her back would never have been
sti greeted. so my motives fortaking her away sould never hare been
d'acosered. I intended to refuse all explimaticri upon the subject, be.
y end admitting an act of seeming folly. soil in p in describing what
wmil4 have been considered an unfathomable mystery. I treand
to Mr. Turner's good sense to keep the sce•et. At all events,
that tom my intention. If she had felt alarmed, and had objected
to travelling with me, I should have made fur Buxton, and should
,have sent her home with the landlady of the Buxton litttel. In
this use, as n:y object foe taking her away would have been sus.
peeted, I Mould neither have app.:Art.4ton Inane written ; mid I had,
-by many precautions, taken care to conceal the real actor, in what
would have been called " an unsuereasful attempt to run away wi:h
Miss 'l'urner." Bat, instead of having to ruin! either of these io.
tentions. every thing conspired to confirm my main resolution. No
ale can Imaglite the pains I took to knot. my Arum wire, and find
ing her, as I did, all that is delightful, how I strove to int
tier, and make her pleased wish me. That I succeeded, there can
be no doubt; fur when, having made tip toy mind to propose mar-
riage to hem I asked her whether she knew where she was going ?
pie said, " No ; but I suppose you do ? And I do not wish to be
told. I Whir enjoy the wieertainty." i informed her that she
pat /alio Yorkshire, and that she would probably meet her
father dersfield. " Very well," she replied ; and then she
revertedtb e maenad= which bid been broken off by my gum.

_~~

tan. This occurred after we had left Manchester about three
hours. As we proecedetawe still talked inceseantlynend often alluded
to the strangetices of our situation. I gradually assumed towards
her a manner which I cannot readily describe. it was not studied.
It was perlectly natural. 1 behaved to her as I would to a beloved
sneer, whom I had joined after separation from childhood, and
whom my whole soul was bent upon pleseing—with careful reserve,
sod yet with the most affectionate frankness--with intimacy with.
out familiarity, and with the greatest, the most marked and
thoughtful kindness. but with no more tenderness titan any man of
feeling would display to a helpless woman accidentally placed
under his sole protection. She was, I suppose, pleased with this
manner of treating her. By what means I cannot tell further;
Lut that she was pleased I had soon ample proof.
As we approached Huddersfield, I nientioned the possibility of
our rot meeting her father there, and of her having to trowel on
with me till the following day. Now, hay love for her father is un-
bounded, and forms, perhaps, the most marked trait of her charac-
ter. Yet. as she has since often assured me, she was agreeably
disappointed at hearing that she might not tee him so 11000, and
that she might coutittue to truel with me till the next day. Few
will believe this; but it is strictly true; and I know so well her
love of truth, and sense of justice, that I am sure she will confirm
'my assertion. I ant not such a coxcomb as to ray that she was in
love with me; but as I was already delighted with her, who had
1 taken no pains to pleue, she might well be pleased with me, who
1 had spared none to rap•ivate. I cannot explain this secret of
im heart; but I state the f et, according to my belief and her
' assurance. On reaching Huddersfield, my eupposition of lice
1 regret at the thought of our separation was confirmed by her high
emits whilst we were at an inn the e--after I had told her that we
1 had no chance of seeing her father till the next day. We limed an
hour, I believe, at the inn, where we ate, drank, talked, laughed,
and almost 0'3,0, as if we had been on a party of pleasure. It
was then dark. She expected to travel alone with me all night;
and she knew neither to what place she was going, nor with what
object so strange a journey hail been undertaken. But she did
continue the journey, not merely without a sign of hesitation, but
with every mark ofagelight at our ioccaunt conversation, and the
hurry and excitement of the whole adventure. At Ilelifax,
my sealant, on whom fright and fatigue had brought on a fit
of the gout, remained behind. Openly, and so that she
must have heard me, bet in French ( which I slid not
then know she perfectly underetancls), I gave him orders to re-
turn to London. He asked me whether he should engaco 't family
rooms" for me in the Brunswick Hotel ? I said " Yea: but do
not tell any body that I ant married, but go to bed, and stay in bed,
ill or well, till you see me thr-a clays hi nee." This, I suspect, did
partially open her eyes to my ultimate object; for soon after, as I
was talking to my brother in French about her, and the time when
we might reach Scotland, she desired us not to " tell secrets" in
French, unless we wished her to understand them. Be this as it
may, we continued to wave' through the night, occupied sa before
with Incessant conversation. Her spirits never flagged for a mo.
ment. Every thing almost was converted into an excuse for
I mghing. The all but dangerous rapidity with which the York-
shire post.bnys drove through the darkness; the significant requests
of more than one landlady on the road, that we would honour them
without company on our return; my struggles, after two sleepless
nights, with an almost overpowering drowsiness; various petty He. 1
citients; and the probability, ascertained during the night, that the
carriage would break into pieces before daylight, all furnished us
, with reasons. or rather excuses, for being so merry, that any one
who could hate seen and heard us, must have been satisfied of the
perfect good will of both parties to lose no time in reaching Gretna. ;
green. I, of course, continued to direct my whole attention to
improving her partiality for me, not merely by sharing and en-
couraging her joyous good humour, but alto by entering into all
her feelings, and by bestowing upon her such personal attentions
1 and caresses as, without being indelicate, or calculated to alarm her
modesty, were an unequivocal declaration of my wishes and in.
tentions. And I undoubtedly succeeded ; for before we reached
Kendal, she treated me with all the affectionate confidence and
gratifying intimacy that a cherished friend and admitted lover
could have expected from her. At Kendal, after breakfast, I was
about to undeceive her, to explain the stratagem I had used, in
order to know her and make myself known unto her, and to
attempt, by a common course of supplication and argument, to
persuade her to marry me: The Devil reminded me that be-
sides the means of persuasion furnished by our already established
intimacy, I had a very powerful argument to use—she had
passed one whole night with me! and I could have urged that,
fer her own sake, she would do well to become my wife with-
! out delay. True it was that I had treated her with the utmost de-
! limy, and her conscience would have been clear, though she heel
not married me. But then there was an ill-natured world, which,
knowing how much I had done, would never give me credit for any
degree of forbearance, and would laugh at any saving declaration
of mine, as the mere result of fear or repentance. The argu-
ment was indeed, at last to a gentlewoman, tremendously power-
ful
; but I felt an invincible repugnance to using it. A romantic
tit for which no stranger will give me either blame or credit)
came upon me; and under its inflect ce, 1 dreaded to appear a
. brute in the eyes of this sweet girl, who was already so well in-
clined to like me, and whom, had I used that ungenerous argu.
ment, I should have married by means which promised to insure
for me her dislike, instead of the tender love that I then felt certain
'of inspiring her with. Still, what other chance had lof obtaining
her free, and full and openly expressed approval of an immediate
marriage? Even though, as I half suspected, she would not in
heart, object to becoming mine, she must, for the sake of her pride,
have made objections Which I could not have answered ; and it
therefore behoved me to furnish her with some excuse for yielding
to my wishes. There was no time to lose. Whether or not I
should use the ungenerous argument—l had passed one night with
her—l had gone too far to recede, if it were possible to advance by
any means short of constraint. The ungenerous argument recurred
to me continually ; but I always repelled it, and sought till my
head ached for some oilier means of inducing and excusing her
approval of an Immediate marriage, without destroying her good
opinion of me. At last the device struck me, which I ultimately
used with success; and I declare that that pretext was employed,
not as the surest and easiest means of persuading her, but as the
only one which would enable me to marry her without, in the very
act of marriage, risking the loss of her good opinion. She entered
at once, and I may say eagerly, into what she thought a scheme
for securing her father's fortune. There was no holding back, no
hesitation. " Yes," she said, "with pleasure. for papa's sake."
She evidently exulted at the idea of being useful to her parents,
and expressed so beautifully her admirable feelings towards them,
that I was very near clueing her in my arms, and betraying all.
Here, in or•ler to show that I am not the ruthless ravisher, sud
that she is not the consummate fool, that we have been described,
I must proceed with considerable detail. As soon as she had ex-
pressed not only her consent but her wish to marry me, I said to
her, " Ellen, you have one other important consideration : it' you
feel any repugnance towards me—it you do not feel that you shall
be able to love me, and to be very happy in living with me en-
tirely henceforth, tell me so without hesitation. There is no abso-
lute necessity for our marriage. 1 beg of you to reflect most care.
folly upon this point, and to examine your feelings towards me.
You have seen very little of me, but still we are become an inti.
mate as it' we had known each other for years. I hope, and do
not doubt to treat you always, fur your own sake, with more than
the tenderness which your peculiar situation has hitherto obtained
from me. But think, and do not decide rashly. If you dislike, or
object to marry me, say so, and I will take you back to Shtig.
ley, when your fatnee's affairs must be arranged in some other
ways
This speech, which was dictated by a vain wish In satisfy myself
that I had a large share in her decision, site listened to with the
deepest attention. I would not allow her to answer immediately.
A lung pause (which she will perfectly recollect) ensued. At last
site said, " It you are always as you are now, I hope to be very
happy whit you." " But," asked I. " what do you believe ? '
We bandied these word., hope and believe, till we both laughed.
I emit! not expect her to make an impressive declaration of attach-
ment. I told her I wan satisfied, as her answer left every thing to
depend on me. I thanked her. kissed her, and encircled her in my
arms ; and from that moment I treated her as my future wife; talk.
ing to her of the years of enjoyment I promised myself in her so-
ciety—of my anxious &Mr to obtain her tenderest love, and to
omelet: her welfare and happiness by every means in my power--of
my tender and affectionate feelings towards her, and of the thou.
, sand things that a man would say to his affianced bride just before
; their marrtaer. In all this I was perfectly Grime. Her admirable
I conduct had in a few hours (hours which circumstances had spun
1 nut to weeks) made me love her more than I should probably have
done after a common ecquatntance of years. Her courage and presence
of her good stow andju!gment ; her wit and acquirements ;
, her most gentle and affectionate, yet most happy and cheerful tern.
per ; her helpless situation ; her evident partiality for me : the
I very wrong, but for such partiality, I should have been ieflicting
I upon her ; all conspired to fill me with the strongest emotions of
1 tenderness towards her. I swore to myself and to her to render her
Ithe happiest of women, and to make her, as a devoted husband,
more than ample reparation. This tenderness from me, and the
caresses to which it gave rise, soon restored our cheerfolness. As
we passed the mountains of Westmoreland, we projected a summer
.isit to the Lakes. Near Carlisle, and on the Border, it was im.
possible to think and speak of any thing but Waverly and Walter
Scott, and the lest hour of our journey to Gretna was cccupiell in
telling stories or the hair-breadth escapes of run-away couples, and
in all but boaterous mirth at the anticipated surprise of her Cheshire
friends and acquaintances, whet they should hear of her marriage.
When near Gretna, I found that she was sell acquainted with die
marriage service, having, as she told me, " often read it, little
shirking, then, hat she should want it so aeon." I, theretare, in
order to gratify another romantic whim, took care that the ceremony
should be more formal aed solemn than is either necessary or usual
at Grettie. She performed her part in at with the utmost cheerful.
ness ; giving steadily, and with evident 'tips of feeling, right an-
! ewers to the solemn questions of the marriage service ; and, when I
first called her my wile, she embraced me with as much terdentess
as if I had been the long-cherished object of her choice. The die
was Pow irrevocably cast ; but I had still three important objects its
I view—to keep my engagement at Calais ; to inform Mr. Tuner, as
! soon as possible. that his clitirgiver was legally, and. to speak as
I humbly an possible, not ineligildy married ; and, if possible, to
1 conceal from my wife
tha ad in any degree sinned against her
cee
father. I there ore tiro: 'at once to Dover, anti sent my bro.
thee into Cheshire, with 1 eactions to conceal nothing from Mr.
Turner, but to urge him to avoid a public scandal, and, above all
things, in join me, for his chikiht sake,in maintaining her goal opi-
nion of me. Unfortunately, when my brother reached Shrigley,
31r. Turner was its London ; and be was persuaded to trust an ex-
planation to a thirst person, who knew nothing but the bare fact of
the marriage.
On our jousoey to Calais, and during our stay there, my wife's
confidence in sas was without limit; her high spirits rather in-
creased than disnifeitsbed ; and our mutual attachment seemed, as it
was, limn dad walsawaikd. At Doves ails made the acquaintance

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