By Maia Appleby
With Season 3 of Bridgerton, we finally get to see Penelope and Colin get together… and this one should be extra amusing with Lady Whistledown in the middle of all the drama!
Lady Whistledown’s scandal sheet took down a slew of characters throughout the first two seasons, and that’s sure to continue. But was gossip really such a big part of the culture in Regency-era London?
I took to the British Newspaper Archive to find out, and it’s glorious. The Morning Herald, often mentioned as the most blatantly unashamed to publish rumors, personal correspondence and general scandals, was certainly full of this sort of thing.
Here are a few examples — and I’ll do my best to unpack them. Just try to read these without invoking your inner Julie Andrews voice. Just try.
ASTONISHING RUMOUR – Morning Herald – February 6, 1818
A tale is in circulation, full of scandal of various sorts, which we have no pleasure in repeating, but which is too much whispered about to be suppressed by our refusal to notice it.
Scandal the First is a story of a late Peer living upon terms of great intimacy with a woman of some fashion, who was, at the same time, his mistress and the confidential friend of his wife, though the latter was well aware of their criminal connection.
A married man was running around with his wife’s best friend and everyone was cool with that. Okay.
Scandal the Second says, that both Ladies were enceintes at the same time, and had reason to expect, that their accouchements would take place within a few days of each other.
So whenever we don’t like something, we just make it French. Good to know!
Scandal the Third affirms, that this expectation led to an agreement between the Ladies and the Peer, intended to satisfy the anxiety of the latter for a male heir; and that, according to this, if a boy should be the produce of either accouchement, the said boy was to be announced as the child of the Peeress!
Figures.
Scandal the Fourth will have it, that the Ladies were delivered within an hour of each other; that the child of the Peeress was a still-born girl; that of the other lady, a fine boy; that the exchange was made according to the plan concerted; and that the present possessor of the Peerage and the estate is the child, not of the wife, but of the mistress.
Within an hour? This is starting to sound a bit like a tall tale. Which is sad because everything before that sentence seemed entirely plausible in 1818 London society.
Those who whisper all these wonders, are, of course, prepared with an explanation of the mode in which they were discovered, and their story is, that the mistress, from remorse at the imposition, has proclaimed it herself!
Is this a fancy way to say that the “mistress” leaked the whole story to the paper?
We need not say, that we shall regret to find any part of these rumours true. The person, whom it would deprive of honour and wealth, is one, who has made a noble use of both, the pride of his family, the delight of his immediate friends, the patron of merit, and one of the most amiable men in England.
Just imagine Eloise Bridgerton’s face after reading that last sentence. A tragic story all around, but who could possibly have moved on with their day without trying to figure out who this most amiable, wealthy, noble pillar of the community was? My guess is almost no one.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING HERALD – Morning Herald – September 9, 1817
Sir, I was much gratified in perusing in your admirable paper, a day or two past, an address to you from one of your correspondents, on the indecency of some of our fashionable females occupying seats at our theatres, so bedecked with the monstrous French hats and head dresses, which those elegantes have introduced among us; I hope it will have the effect of inducing them to take them off when in those places of public entertainment, at least, while the curtain is up.
The French again! I’m assuming “elegantes” is not meant as a compliment.
About ten days past I determined to treat myself, for the first time this season, at the Haymarket Theatre, and took my place in a back seat in a box in front of the stage, every other seat being engaged, excepting one by the side of myself, and one in the seat immediately before me, which were very soon occupied by two persons, whom I conclude were man and wife. The lady, unfortunately for me, took her station in the vacant seat immediately before me, and the very sight of her convinced me there was an end to all my entertainment for the evening; for although not an old woman, she was a most bulky one, superadded to which she had on one of these monstrous French hats, as above alluded to, on one side of which were two enormous feathers that waved over her right shoulder, and over the other famed a veil large enough to have made a mosquito curtain to an East India bedstead.
Harsh! A funny picture. I don’t really like this guy.
The curtain drew up, and I perceived at once that the fair one had not come there for the purpose of attending to the performance, her whole time being engaged in twisting about her enormous head and shoulders, and now and then condescending to speak a word or two to her spare-rib, who sat by my side. I submitted to this indecency for some little time, but at length took the liberty of requesting she would have the goodness to make her head a little more stationary, which was for a moment complied with, but as an offset to this act of condescension, the gentleman now thrust his head over her shoulder, which completely took all view of even the stage from me. This I did not very patiently bear, which drew from the hero a saucy reply, which I put an instant stop to hy a few words, the full force of which he seemed fully to comprehend and which operated immediately.
How many of us can say that that we’ve ever asked a stranger to keep their head more stationary? I mean I’ve been tempted, but now I know that when you do that, the nearest spare-rib might make matters even worse. So just don’t.
At this time the first act closing, this elegant couple actually tumbled along over several seats (so great was their hurry) that were unoccupied in their front, and to my great gratification we in this manner parted. It appeared from their conversation (for they were frequently attempting to utter a few French words), that they had seen in Paris, the fair one lamenting that she had found nothing at the little theatre to entertain her after having enjoyed the delights of a French one.
Wow, he really doesn’t like anything about France, does he?
But to the point, sir, I do hope that a manly stand will be at once made, on opening out theatres for the winter, to prevent French trumpery from destroying our entertainments.
A CONSTANT READER
Who can go anywhere without having their view obstructed by French trumpery of some sort? But one thing is for sure. The person with the tallest hat (or in many cases, tallest hair) will always have the best view and there’s nothing we can do about it. Just ask Queen Charlotte.
MOST DISGUSTING OCCURRENCE – Morning Post – July 12, 1819
A quarrel has lately taken place at one of the minor German Courts. It seems that the father and son have mistresses, who became very jealous of each other. The father interfered, and was personally rude to the son’s mistress. In consequence of which the son went to the father to remonstrate with him, but was refused admittance by the officer on duty, who acted conformably to his Sovereign’s orders. The young Prince knocked down the officer, and forced his way into his father’s presence, when a violent altercation ensued. What passed between the sire and his son is not precisely known; but the most painful reports are in circulation upon the subject.
So the father and son had mistresses who became jealous of… each other? Why? And the father yelled at his son’s mistress, prompting the son to tell his dad what’s what, but now there’s an officer involved. Where are we again? Oh, wait. The officer was ordered by his Sovereign. Wait. What?
Anonymity just went out the window here. This one is could be puzzled out. So in 1819, Germany was split into five kingdoms: Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover and Württemberg. Frederick William III of Prussia had three sons who were adults in 1819. Maximilian I Joseph of Bavaria had two. Frederick Augustus I of Saxony had no sons at that time, nor did William I of Württemberg. George III (King of England—Queen Charlotte’s husband) was King of Hanover until he died at age 81 in 1820, and we all know he wasn’t out fighting with mistresses a year prior. So this article is about either Frederick William or Maximilian and one of their five sons.
To quell any curiosity, the son in question wasn’t Daphne’s Prince Frederick, as his father was also a prince and wouldn’t have been considered “sovereign.” Pity.
Morning Herald – May 15, 1824
To those who have the power and the will to relieve the oppressed, the case of Mrs. BELINDA COLEBROOKE, Widow of Colonel Colebrooke, of the First Somersetshire Militia, and mother of Belinda, wife of Sir Charles Smith, is most earnestly recommended.
First of all, this is the lead article on the front page of the Saturday paper. The earnest recommendation seems to come from someone with power.
This Lady, possessing an undoubted right to an annuity under the will of her late husband, of 12007 per annum, and which right has been confirmed by orders of the ford Chancellor, pronounced after hearing Counsel, and taking home the documents by which it is secured; possessing also a further claim to an annuity of 8007 per annum, is at this moment destitute of the common necessaries of life. After a protracted litigation of more than fourteen years duration, for the protection of her own and her children’s rights, which have been contested in Chancery and elsewhere, by the brothers of her late husband, partly upon the ground of those children’s imputed illegitimacy, she is now informed that the orders under which she has been paid her annuity were pronounced in error; and the only terms upon which she is offered the bare means of existence by her daughter, who holds large estates, subject to the payment of these annuities, are that she shall become a consenting party to a renewed suit in Chancery, under which the validity of these orders is to be called in question.
Mrs. Colebrooke is entitled to 12,000 pounds a year, but her late husband’s family is claiming that her children are illegitimate and therefore the Colonel’s brothers should have her income? This is horrific.
It is not consistent with the limits of a public Advertisement, nor would it be any satisfaction to the feelings of Mrs. Colebrooke, to detail here the bitter hostility with which she has been persecuted since her husband’s death, and the system of heartless evasion and chicanery by which her attempts to obtain justice have been uniformly frustrated. Mrs. Colebrooke is now sinking under the accumulated malignities of her powerful and combined antagonists, and though as little as ever disposed to surrender her just and acknowledged rights, she is now reduced to such an extremity, as to have no longer an alternative between submission to injustice, and the workhouse.
Give them hell, Mrs. C!
If any of her late husband’s friends, who have known her in better days, shall now be induced to serve her: or if any stranger, alive to those sympathies unhappily extinguished elsewhere, shall volunteer the loan of a small sum, to enable her to exist for the present, and to prosecute such means as may be deemed advisable for her protection, Mrs. Colebrooke has, she believes, the most ample security to offer, her annuities being now many years in arrear. Any further information will be given to any person who may address (post paid) to A. W. T., Chapter Coffee. House, St. Paul’s Churchyard.
I love how this morning paper served as a GoFundMe for Belinda Colebrooke. I’m super invested in this story now, but this is where it ends; I do hope some of the Colonel’s friends helped her out.
If modern-day celebrity gossip doesn’t amuse you the way this stuff does, I invite you to join me in the rabbit hole. This is only a teeny-tiny sample of the tea those people were spilling.
