A Problematic Solution:
Responses to the Marriage Reform Act of 1753

Appendix B

Poems relating to An Act for the better preventing of clandestine Marriages

“The better to Prevent”—(what’s this I see?)

 anonymous[1]

“The better to Prevent”—(what’s this I see?)

“Clandestine marriages”!—They’ve done

And this perhaps, when you’re inclin’d to wed,

May you concern: Be pleas’d to hear it

“First ‘tis decreed, the banns on Sundays three,

Amid the service loud proclaimed be.

Each must a full month in the parish live,

And both their names unto the parson give.

And what, and whence they are, their parents who;

And if they these, their nuptial rights, allow.

But should she marry under twenty-one,

A whore the wife, a bastard ev’ry son!

Is this just liberty for girls mature?

The Spanish padlock’s easier to endure,

When such the laws, maids ever maids will be.

From which dread curse, good lord, deliver

For why should these old puts take on ‘em thus?

As tho’ no privilege belong’d to us.
What then? Suppose a lass approve a youth,

And hearts united are by love and truth;

Can it be right our wiseacres should lay

Such dilatory statutes in their way?

Amid these hasards then what can be done?

The time is hort; the threatn’ning day comes on,

‘Tis now or never (cries my am’rous mate)

E’er yet the gentle Hymen shuts the gate.

My rogue has played the pimp—yet loves but me;

The to reform him still my care shall be.

Well!—the Fleet chaplain o’er us shall say grace;

With tatter’d gown, and with a rugged face.

And, if the place ye not despise, I there

Invite you all my nuptial feast to share.

Marriage, an Ode

John Armstrong[2]

I.

Rang’d by all-ruling Heaven’s Design

Low sings this Ball, a mass supine

    The stars high-blazing roll:

Nor lives a wretch of frantic brain,

Who dares with impious rage maintain,

    That chance directs the whole.

                        II.

Yet nations wide adopt this plan:

Chance classes all degrees of man,

    Unknown in Nature’s State;

And the mere accident of birth

Marks who shall rule or till the earth,

    Th’ignoble or the great.

                        III.

While such the consecrated Springs,

Whence proudly issue Lords and Kings,

    Why sleeps the Parent’s Care?

Anxious to match the gen’rous steed,

Where Strength and Beauty stamp the Breed,

    Regardless of his Heir.

                        IV.

But, to no favour’d Race confined,

The virtues of our nobler Kind

    All Ranks alike may claim;

Issue as fair, and brave, and wise,

As the high Lineage of the Skies,

    May bless an humble Dame.

                        V.

The charm that softens manly Grace,

The Ray that beams in Woman’s face,

    The Sympathy of Mind,

Denote (whate’er their various lot,

Whether a Palace or a Cot)

    The mates by Heaven design’d.

                        VI.

But peevish Age, and gloomy Pride,

And churlish Av’rice dare divide

    Those links, which powerful draw,

To Union dear, cogenial Loves:

The Sire condemns what God approves,

    And Tyranny is Law.

                        VII.

Far other maxims form’d our State:

All Orders mixt of Low and Great

    Compose th’harmonious frame.

Firm hath the mighty Fabrick stood,

And Britain boasts her mingl’d blood,

    In many a deathless name.

                        VIII.

Free shou’d the sons of Freedom wed

The maid by equal fondness led,

    Nor, heaping wealth on wealth,

Youth pine in Age’s wither’d Arms,

Deformity polluting Charms,

    And Sickness blasting Health.

                        IX.

But House for House, and Grounds for Grounds,

And mutual Bliss in balanc’d Pounds

    Each Parent’s thought employ:

These summ’d by Wingate’s solid Rules,

Let fools, and all the Sons of fools

    Count less substantial Joy!

                        X.

And yet no niggard care confines

The child indulg’d—Lo! India’s mines

    Flame in the Daughter’s dress:

As gorgeous shines the lavish Son;

No luxury refus’d but one—

    Domestic Happiness.

                        XI.

The Victim comes in rich attire,

Dragg’d trembling by her ruthless Sire,

    Thy Child, O Monster, save!

Better the sacrificing Knife,

Plung’d in her bosom, end that life

    Thy fatal Passion gave.

                        XII.

With Torch inverted Hymen stands

The Furies wave their livid Brands,

    Wild Horror, pale Dismay:

Soft Pity drops the melting Tear;

And lustful Satyrs grinning leer,

    Sure of their destin’d Prey.

                        XIII.

Compell’d the falt’ring Priest slow-ties

The knot of plighted perjuries,

    For spotless truch ordain’d:

More fitly had some Dæmon fell,

Some Minister of Sin and Hell,

    The Sacred Rites profan’d.

                        XIV.

Go, wedded Pair! all blithe and gay

Young Virgins strew the flow’ry way,

    And crown your festal Gate;

Invok’d the Genial Powers attend:

So shall a hapless Line descend,

    Heir to your wretched Fate.

                        XV.

Unheir’d, a mass of barren earth,

No monster of amphibious birth

    Transmits a future race.

Shall then an Angel’s Form, conjoin’d

With all that sinks the brutal Kind,

    Perpetuate Man’s Disgrace?

                        XVI.

Yet Nature will assert her claim:

Thine, rigid Father! thine the blame,

    If injur’d Beauty stray:

Thou shou’dst have heard the Lover’s voice,

Approv’d and sanctify’d the choice,

    Nor curs’d the Bridal day.

                        XVII.

Welcom’d by Thee chaste Love had shed

His blassings o’er that dismal Bed,

    Now wrapt in guilt and fear:

The lisping Babe had bless’d thy Age,

Now taught, with more than infant-Rage,

    To chide thy loit’ring Bier.

                        XVIII.

Hence all those baleful evils flow,

Which swell the Tide of human woe,

    And blot th’Almighty’s Plan;

Taint ev’ry source of pure Delight,

Break ev’ry Band that shou’d unite

    The Soul of man to man.

                        XIX.

Blank Bastardy with blazon’d Crest,

And Harlots in patrician Vest,

    Triumphant Vice proclaim:

The High-born Virgin, mimic, tries

Those Arts which taught the low to rise

    From Poverty thro’ shame.

                        XX.

Behold a various motly Race!

Th’unwelcome Son, with alien Face,

    His Mother’s crime betrays:

No kindred Love’s instinctive fire,

No social Charities conspire

    To light the Patriot’s Blaze.

                        XXI.

Hence sage Authority despis’d

And savage Licence, ill disguis’d

    In Freedom’s injur’d name;

Bold Orat’ry with brazen Din,

While skulking Selfishness within

    Directs Ambition’s Aim.

                        XXII.

In Barter vile each Parent sold,

The sordid Progeny of Gold

    Will own no other sway:

To wealth the Virgin yields her Charms;

For pay the Soldier flies to arms,

    P    s v   e and P    s pray.

                        XXIII.

Not such those Lights (which pierc’d the gloom

Thick cast o’er Earth by barb’rous Rome)

    Pure as the Faith they own’d.

Nor such th’unpension’d Noble’s zeal:

In bosoms warm for publick weal,

    Their country fat enthron’d.

                        XXIV.

The Statesman plann’d, the Hero fought,

Their service like their love unbought:

    Yet both were well repaid:

Their Country’s Glory, then, was wealth;

Yought, Beauty, Innocence, and Health

    Endow’d the wedded Maid.

                        XXV.

No hireling Friends did Britain drain,

No base Contractors pilfering Train

    Aveng’d the vanquish’d Foe;

While the Land groans beneath her debt,

And hard-tax’d Peasants murm’ring sweat,

    In Victory and Woe.

                        XXVI.

Yet blest the Hind whose shelter’d Head,

Secure beneath his lowly shed,

    Forgets the slow-worn day:

His darling Child and faithful Wife,

Best comforts of the happiest Life,

    His Sufferings all repay.

                        XXVII.

But see! th’unpeopl’d village falls:

Drear Devastation, rais’d the walls.

    Say, if some Tyrant reigns!

Or dar’d the bold Invader’s Hand,

In vengeance, hurl the flaming Brand

    O’er Britain’s ravag’d Plains?

                        XXVIII.

Our Coast no bold Invader dares;

And George benign, with lib’ral Cares

    Each cherish’d Art improves.

Yet Britain views a houseless Band;

Sad Out-Cast in his native Land

    The wand’ring Exile roves.

                        XXIX.

Shall Luxury, diffusive-spread,

Envy the wretch his Pain-earn’d Bread,

    His Cot and homely Joys?

Are those the means that must replace

The strength of an exhausted Race,

    Decrepit Sires and Boys!

                        XXX.

Tho’borne on Glory’s tow’ring wings,

Fame her triumphant Pæan sings

    Far as the Billows foam:

Yet dearly were our Triumphs bought;

And hardly paid the Victors fought,

    Whom Misery waits at home.

                        XXXI.

But, lo, the Nations from afar

Crowd to repair the waste of War,

    With Numbers, Skill and Toil!

Myriads, alas! wou’d crowd in vain,

Whilst Laws the Marriage-Rite restrain,

    And Lordlings thin the Soil.