Saint or Scoundrel 3

Here is Mr. Edward Wakefield’s next letter to my father.

September 10, 1926

5 The Lawn, Chelsea, London

My dear friend Daniel,

When last I wrote to you, I told you our trial was soon to happen. But what did happen was what my solicitors and I had been planning on - a deferment to the next assizes to give us more time to prepare the case - and bail so that I am no longer at the moment under lock and key.

Here are some details of the trial. The court was gloomy. To the judge’s left was the Grand Jury bench, elevated above the well of the court and we prisoners were in the dungeons below confined in darkness until brought to be tried through a trap door in the dock. I was not called until five in the afternoon, and Mr. Justice Park was obviously weary and a little out of humour. I had been kept in the sweating room while waiting to be called and when I was, descended the steps that led to a long subterranean passage. Mounting the steps, I found myself in an oblong box surrounded by iron spikes in a large crowded chamber lit by numerous lamps and chandeliers. All eyes were upon me, and I felt more than a bit alarmed. I admit to being somewhat melancholy.

It soon became clear that I would not be tried at this assizes, but would be allowed out on bail to prepare for the trial at the next assizes, next spring. But it was not at all clear whether William would be tried now or not. But on 16th August, he claimed that an article in the Macclesfield Courier was prejudicial to his prosecution - and as its proprietor is the solicitor for the prosecution, this was not hard to believe - and one of our chief witnesses, having believed as it stated in the article that the trial would not take place until the spring assizes, went abroad. At what was supposed to be the recommencement of the proceedings on August 21st, it became clear that William was not going to be tried during these assizes, because he had fled. When Justice Parker called for him to attend, and he did not, he was told that William was intentionally not coming. A warrant was given for his arrest - but as it was felt that he could not disclose in his trial what my defence was going to be, so that was that.

I didn’t see Ellen, as I had hoped I would. She was seen by the court on Saturday, 12th August, to be sworn in, and then gave her evidence in front of the Grand Jury. After giving her evidence for an hour, she left, but three ladies, identically dressed in black as she was, left at the same time as she did, so none from the press could say which of the four was she.

So again, I will leave off telling you the details of my story, as I have been told that I must not tell anyone anything specific until the actual new trial comes, which is now set for March, 1827.

Best wishes from your friend,

Edward Gibbon

October 5, 1827

I have thought long and hard, trying to decide who Pa might have contacted at the time. I considered and then discounted the housekeeper and cook at Shrigley Hall and Lyme Hall.

And then there was the church. We always went to St. Mary’s Church in Disley, and Thomas Legh, who owned Lyme Hall, had his family’s boxed pew at the front, and occasionally attended. Pa might have spoken to his servant.

October 10, 1862

I have finally heard from Mr. Unwin, or rather from someone he got to write for him - and it is in very bad English and poor script so I can hardly make it out. What he has told me mostly relates to the time after the trial and sentencing took place in 1827, so I cannot think of what I could put in as my father’s contribution to the correspondence for the previous year. He might have found out that Ellen was back at home with her parents, and that she was well. Other than that, his letter must have been dealing with his worry about Mr. Wakefield’s character. His letter back to Pa implies that he was trying to make some sort of apology for his actions, as he admits that he was deluded in his quest.

One thing Mr. Unwin imparted I found very interesting. Apparently Mr. Wakefield sent Ellen a Christmas present that year before the proper trial. It was a book which he must have felt she would appreciate. But Mr. Unwin said the story went that she had already had the same book as a present from none other than her Papa.

However, now that I have heard from Mr. Unwin, I think Pa’s next letter, which would have been sent to Mr. Wakefield at Newgate Prison in London, might have contained the following information.

Involved in preparing Ellen’s case for the trial was none other than their neighbour, the MP, Mr. Thomas Legh. I have already mentioned him as being someone Pa might have obtained information from. I did not know, when I wrote that, that he was indeed the most likely source of information about Ellen. The publican, Mr. Unwin, says that Mr. Legh fell in love with his client, and as soon as her marriage to Mr. Wakefield was annulled (which happened right after the sentencing) she became engaged to him. Mr. Unwin said the following about Ellen, which I doubt she would find flattering.

“She was not a particularly comely person, but a fine, big, romping girl who bounded down stairs and as the story has it, nearly knocked an elderly relative over.”

25 June, 1827

Newgate Prison

Dear Daniel, (I hope you will allow me this informality if we are to be regular correspondents.)

Thank you for your note informing me of the new circumstances in Ellen’s life. I wish her every success. I would still like you to continue keeping an eye on the situation for me. I realise that it is not always easy for you to find out what is happening, but any information you may glean will be of interest to me.

I expect you may well have read of my trial and the sentencing in the newspapers. It certainly had a wide coverage in the media. In fact I was told that the newspaper editors had people posted at stages between Lancaster and London and amounts of money were offered for the first person to get the news of the verdict back to London. Considering that even with fast horses and galloping through the night, it must have taken at least fifteen hours, I laugh to think how important my punishment has been made to seem. The country must have something better to think about.

On the 23rd of March, my brother William and I were in court. Our coachman, Edward Thevenot, had remained in France, but he was indicted for felony in absentia. Our stepmother’s case was discussed, but she was not present at the trial.

The indictment was “having at Liverpool feloniously carried away one Ellen Turner, Spinster, then a maid and heir apparent unto her father, William Turner Esq, for the sake of the lucre of her substance and for having afterwards unlawfully and against her will married the said Ellen Turner.”

But I am digressing. It is hard for me to put in writing what a fool I was. I wanted money in order to buy an estate and to enter Parliament. I had been married to an heiress, and while she lived, we had sufficient money to do as we wished. When she died, I hoped to get money that I felt was legally mine from her estate, but this proved impossible. So I decided that it was imperative that I should marry another heiress. It was my stepmother, Frances Davies, who is the daughter of the headmaster of Macclesfield School and therefore privy to information about where rich girls were being educated, who suggested Ellen as a likely candidate. She was in at a ladies’ seminary in Liverpool - not near her home - and we felt that we could easily make up a story to lure her away.

Early on the morning of 7 March of last year, my brother William and I arranged for a carriage and a servant, Edward Thevenot, to go to Ellen's boarding school with a message to the Misses Daulby, the mistresses of the school.

The message, backed up by a fake doctor’s note, claimed that Ellen’s mother was ill and she wished to see her daughter immediately. Not knowing Mr. Trevenot, Miss Daulby was somewhat reluctant, but he put a good case and she, in the end, agreed.

Edward Trevenot took Ellen to the Albion Hotel, in Piccadilly, Manchester, where she was introduced to a Captain Wilson, (really me) who told Ellen he would take her to her mother. But, as the carriage set off again, I revealed myself and told Ellen that her mother was not ill after all and that I would explain everything in due course. By the time we reached Carlisle, I had persuaded her that her father was financially ruined, that my uncle had extended a loan to her father, and the only way to ensure the family's security was for Ellen to marry a “man of honour”, namely me. Her father, as you no doubt know, is a wealthy calico printer and High Sheriff of Cheshire, originally from Blackburn. Ellen is an only child and his heir.

Once we reached Carlisle, I produced a ‘message’ which I pretended was from her father, imploring her to proceed immediately with the marriage in order that the whole family would not be ruined.

Next day I claimed that my banker uncle had proposed that I marry her and if she would agree to marry me, her father would be saved. Ellen hesitated no longer and we went to Gretna Green where the marriage ceremony was performed in the time-honoured way by the blacksmith, Mr. David Laing.

I then informed her that her father had returned home to Cheshire and that we were to follow him, but when we got as far as Leeds, I was alerted to a pressing appointment in Paris. I pretended to send my brother to Cheshire to advise her father to meet us in London. Of course, when we arrived in London, there was another pretend ‘message’ that her father had proceeded to France.

I wrote to Mr. Turner from Carlisle, (apparently he had been informed of the abduction some days after it happened by seeing our marriage announcement in a newspaper) informing him that I had married his daughter and I suggested that the negotiations for returning her safely unharmed could be best handled without involving the police. I really thought that he would be so willing to avoid scandal that he would comply. However, he immediately went to them.

When we arrived in Calais, I sent another letter, this time to Ellen’s mother, suggesting the terms that I would require for her safe return. But not long after that, we were walking along the pier in Calais when we were spotted by Ellen’s uncle, the family solicitor and a police officer. Ellen was overjoyed to see her uncle, but she didn’t as yet know that I was trying to secure money for her release and that my story about her family’s financial difficulties had all been fabricated. They confronted me and dragged me off to the French officials. I appealed to the Mayor of Calais to prevent the family forcibly removing Ellen from me, her lawful husband. Ellen, however, having found out the whole story from her uncle by this time, told the Mayor that I had tricked her into being compelled to marry me. Realising that I could get no further in my plans, I handed Ellen over to her uncle, stating, “You receive her at my hands as a pure and spotless virgin,” – and then I also put it in writing. Ellen and her uncle returned to England, but the English police had not the ability to arrest me in France so I set forth for Paris.

My brother, William, returned to England and was promptly arrested at Dover. I then decided it was my duty to return to England and to stand trial with my brother and stepmother who was also indicted. After a few weeks conferring with others, I turned myself in to be questioned at the magistrate’s court in Disley – and the rest you know. At the end the jury returned guilty verdicts against us all.

On May 14 we were taken to the Court of King’s Bench in Westminster for sentencing. I asked for leniency for my brother, William. I said that he was young, and very impressionable, and did what he did for my benefit only. In my plea for mitigation, speaking for myself, I swore that our legal expenses had exceeded £3000. I pointed out that this had already placed a heavy financial burden on me and any further fine would be equivalent to a sentence of life imprisonment as I would never be able to pay and the law is such that people remain in prison until all fines are paid.

Mr. Justice Bayley imprisoned each of us for a term of three years. I was directed to serve my term in Newgate and William was returned to Lancaster Castle. Although a guilty verdict had also been returned against our stepmother, the Turner family extended mercy to her and, consequently, no sentence was imposed.

We are both fortunate, we feel, to avoid the noose, which we were told would have been the likely outcome if I had married Ellen in England rather than Scotland.

Ellen didn’t even look at me when she was telling the story. Some newspapers have put the blame on Ellen, saying she connived in the abduction. The truth is that she was convinced by my story, and always felt that I had her family’s best interests at heart, so there was no reason for her to try to escape. The evidence throughout the experience was of her laughing and being pleased to be with me, as I was with her.

I am being treated with some leniency here, now that the ways have been oiled by diplomacy and not a few bank notes. I am able to have good food brought in, and my sister visits me regularly bringing with her my requests.

Yours faithfully,

Edward Gibbon