An Adventurer from Bristol

The following story was posted in The Times on October 6, 1786. It tells of a wealthy woman whose husband was an “adventurer”, running off to live a life among prostitutes and reckless companions. The woman, left alone to fend for herself, was consistently pursued by her husband’s friends. Until, finally, one of his friends (a Lord no less!) offered a great sum of money in exchange for the wife, an insult to her virtue and worth. But all was not lost. In a clever twist, the resourceful wife was able to turn the dissipated actions of her “husbands” and make for herself a life in respectable society.

So, may this be one of the reasons you never purchase your friend’s wife:

 The Times, Friday, Oct 06, 1786; pg. 4; Issue 548; col A

It reads:

The following story has lately made a considerable noise in the Neighbourhood of Bristol.

AN Adventurer, who, a short time ago, made a considerable figure in the beau monde, suddenly disappeared, having clandestinely married a young Lady of considerable fortune, which was at her own disposal. He chose Somersetshire for his residence, where he lived in a most expensive and dissipated manner. He soon neglected the amiable sacrifice of his bed, and lavished large sums on the most abandoned prostitutes.

His wife was consequently left exposed to the addresses of each of his profligate companions. It would be no wonder if innocence fell a prey to them, but her sense and virtue repelled their advances; however, a certain nobleman of abandoned principles, made her such proposals, that she flew from him to her husband. Could any one suppose that such a monster existed, as a husband, who could advise an amiable wife, to accept the advances of another. To this effect, however, did our adventurer endeavour to persuade her. She returned his Lordship an answer, with all the indignation of insulted virtue.

It, however, became necessary for her to assume a different conduct, finding his Lordship had finally settled preliminaries with her husband, and actually paid him a large sum of money; therefore, assuming an air of compliance, she desired a settlement, to which my Lord instantly appeared with joy to comply, then, says she, let my attorney look over your deeds. He instantly produced them, but no sooner had she possession of the parchment, then she set off to London, and delivered them to his Lordship’s family.

Finding the deplorable situation of the young Lady, they rewarded her generosity, by taking her under their protection.

…and so the Lady goes from being the humiliated wife of a whoring drunkard, to a woman protected by the family of a Lord. This is the type of story where the woman could have easily ended up lost among the forgotten unfortunates of society, but for her quick instincts and action, she was kindly returned the status which she had been born to.



Mad Mary

This is the story of Mary. It tells of how she became mad and the "infernal friends that keep her so". The article was posted in The Times on November 29, 1786.

The Times, Wednesday, Nov 29, 1786; pg. 2; Issue 298; col D

MAD MARY - A TRUE STORY:

Mary was the daughter of a very worthy man, who was steward to a Mr. C--  in the West of England. She possessed a sweet disposition and an amiable appearance, which, by the circumstances of her situation, were improved into elegance and accomplishment. Mr. C--  had an only daughter, and as Mary was of her age, she was her constant play-fellow and companion. Mr. C-- , thinking that a spirit of emulation might incite his daughter to a more rapid improvement in the different branches of her education, ordered the masters who attended Miss C—to give their attentions also to Mary; so that she became as accomplished as her friend, for whose sake she was instructed. Several years now passed on and Mary was the favourite of all who knew her, but none more than the amiable young lady whose inseparable companion she was. The time, however, drew nigh when they were to part. A gentleman of large fortune, whose name was Freeman, had made proposals of marriage to Miss C. which were accepted; and she soon quitted her father’s house for that of her husband. Mary grieved sincerely and in silence at the departure of her kind patroness, who soon after her marriage set out with her family to make the tour of Europe. They remained abroad three years, and though Mary loved her father and failed in no point of duty to him, the letters she received from Mrs. Freeman were her principal satisfactions during all that time. At length, her friend returned to England, and Mary received an invitation to pass the following winter with her in London. It was not long, therefore, before she found herself in a situation which, for some time, she thought the happiest on earth. But Mary was handsome, and her personal charms were accompanied with that softness of manners and sensibility of character, which awaken an interest in the breast of all who are within their influence. Thus endowed, Mary caught the libertine attentions of Mr. Freeman himself. Though he had every reason to be attached to his wife, he had not been the constant husband she merited to possess; and he was now on the point of making another offering at the shrine of infidelity. His continual assiduities did not appear to the innocent, unsuspecting Mary, but as the attentions of a friend; and he was obliged to speak very plain indeed, before she could be made to conceive the extent of his designs. When, however, the veil was drawn aside, her situation became truly deplorable. To acquaint Mrs. Freeman with her husband’s conduct, would be to plant a dagger in the bosom of her friend, and to remain in her present situation, without guarding against the dangers of it, would be to risk everything that was dear to her. She therefore wrote a precise state of the disagreeable circumstances with which she was surrounded to her father, and implored his immediate presence to snatch her from them. In the interval, however, Mr. Freeman had laid his plans so sure, that he succeeded in the object of them; when men are so lost and abandoned as to apply the opiate, that they make take advantage of insensibility – what can withstand them. Poor Mary awakened, as from a delirium, found herself in a strange apartment and in Mr. Freeman’s arms. She immediately grew outrageous, and, on hearing her situation explained to her, that outrage increased. A fever ensued, and her senses became disordered; nor have they yet recovered themselves but for very short and dubious intervals.  

Mary’s father no soon received her letter, than he set off with his son for London. They arrived at Mr. Freeman’s, and were told by the servants, that Mary was run off with some on whom they did not know, and that no tidings had since been heard of her. The poor man feared the worst, and it was by the interference of the Magistrate that he at length got to the sight of his unhappy child. Finding, however, that nothing could be done to punish the seduce, without bringing treble wretchedness on Mrs. Freeman, the daughter of his friend and master, and that the utmost vengeance would not restore poor Mary to her right senses, he was content to secure an annuity of 200 l. during her life, which enabled him to place her under his best care, and provide her with every comfort which her unhappy state was capable of receiving.

Poor Mary is now a wretched maniac. In her more tranquil intervals, she knows her friends, is sensible of her situation, and call herself Mad Mary. The last time I saw her, she had dressed her head fantastically with flowers, and sang melancholy ditties. As I was taking my leave of her, “Ah, (said she, with a sigh,) he may roll along in plenty, but not in peace. Mad Mary haunts him while he is at the jovial banquet: If he seeks the midnight revel, Mad Mary meets him there – Go, tell him, (continued she) tell all your sex, that when, to gratify a moment’s burning passion, they give disgrace and despair to the whole life of a wretched female, they are like those infernal friends, who are permitted by heaven to make poor Mary mad – and keep her so.”         

Disappearance of Mary Ann Brompton

The following is an article from The Times of September 21, 1836. It describes the mysterious disappearance of a servant girl who worked at the Bedford Arms Public-house. Her name was Mary Ann Brompton and she was 25 years of age when she disappeared.

The Times, Wednesday, Sep 21, 1836; pg. 3; Issue 16214; col C

The article reads: The mysterious disappearance of Mary Ann Brompton, a female in the service of Mr. Kerridge, landlord of the Bedford Arm public-house, South-street, Manchester-square, has excited no trifling degree of sensation in that neighbourhood. It seems that a man of rather genteel appearance entered the house about 10 o'clock on Friday night, and asked the barmaid if her name was Brompton. She replied in the negative, and told him that that was the servant's name, and going into the coffee-room, he requested to be allowed to speak to her. The servant was immediately sent into the room, and on seeing the stranger her countenance was observed to change colour, and she became dreadfully agitated. He gave her a letter, and departed. She read it through, and having put it into the fire, went to the bar, and requested leave of absence for a few minutes, which was granted, and then, without waiting either to put on bonnet or shawl, she hurried out of the house. Not returning that night, and fears being entertained for her safety, Mr. Kerridge on Saturday morning gave information of the circumstance to Inspector Thomas, of the D division, who sent policeman Williams, an active man, who has made every exertion to discover her, but hitherto without success. She had lived with Mr. Kerridge for some time, bore an excellent character, and the cause of absence is involved in mystery. She is about 25 years of age, five feet four inches in height, and was dressed in a black bombazine gown, white apron, and a cap trimmed with white riband. 

I feel that the mystery lies with the man of the genteel appearance. This description suggests that he did not look the part of a person one would usually find delivering letters. He obviously did not know Mary Ann Brompton, since he had to ask the barmaid if she was the girl he was looking for. And yet, Mary Ann only had to see him and "her countenance was observed to change colour, and she became dreadfully agitated".   How did she know that something was about to unfold that would lead to her distress? What was in the letter? After working with Mr. Kerridge for some time, did she not have anyone there to confide in, who might have some impression of what may have happened, or was there a confidant keeping her whereabouts a secret to help her stay hidden? Was she ever found? Did this article encourage anyone to come forward with a clue or some information to aid policeman Williams in uncovering her whereabouts?

I was not able to find any more information on Mary Ann Brompton, and I wonder what became of her.

The French Nun

Here is a story of a nun from France who found herself seduced by a Count. While seduction always makes for a story within itself, I feel that the real twist in this tale is the way in which Angelica, the nun, first entered the convent and how she was later released from her vows. 

The Times, Thursday, Sep 07, 1786; pg. 3; Issue 523; col C

This is the story of the French nun:

There is in France, amongst other religious nuisances, an order of nuns, who, of all their vows, keep most rigidly that of poverty. They are on this account permitted, once a year, to go about and solicit the charities of all good Christians, and never return empty handed. As these alms are by them collected during lent, they are generally called Hirondolles de Careme. They always go in pairs, when upon those expeditions, an old and a young one, the latter as much as possible handsome, gay, and lively. They fondly imagine, that the sanctity of their habit and profession is a sufficient guard against any attempt from profane men, and yet these young saints often become the heroines of some love adventure. 

Monsieur le Compte de __, never failed giving those pretty mendicants the most cordial reception, for which reason he was constantly visited, annually, by the two same sisters. This year he observed; that they had sent a new face, and enquiring of the old one what might be the reason. "Here," said she; "Monsieur, this parcel will tell you more about the poor sister Angelica, who has been very ill for these three months past; so saying, she left the bundle on the table and retired in some confusion. The Comte, as soon as she went out of the room, and indeed the house, which she quitted abruptly, uncased the parcel, and, to his utter astonishment, found it contained a beautiful child, about two months old. The sweet innocent child smiled at the Comte, who taking it up eagerly into his arms, kissed and bedewed its cheeks with the tears of sensibility.  Indeed, continues our correspondent, I do not recollect to have ever witnessed so affecting a scene, but more was to come; as I was more collected than the Comte, I perceived and pointed to him a letter pinned to the child's breast; he snatched it up; tenderness, indignation, and heart felt concern were visible by turns in his countenance during the perusal, and he imparted to me the contents.

Sister Angelica, the fair writer of the moving epistle, upbraided him for his perfidy in seducing her when she was last at his house, but fairly confessed that her inclination had but too well pleaded his cause in her heart. The rest of the letter was filled up with expressions of the liveliest contrition for her past folly, recommending the infant to his particular care, and concluded by acquainting him that she was the sole daughter of the Marchioness de __, who, as it is but too common in France, had, for the sake of a brother, since dead, forced her into a convent, and to take the veil.

The Comte who is, without exception, one of the best and most tender hearted men, could not stand against such a tale of woe, instantly took the proper steps which the law directs in such cases, where compulsion has been used. His cause was that of humanity, he pleaded it feeling, and soon set the unfortunate victim at liberty, and crowned so noble a work by giving her his hand, as the only means of atoning for his past offences. The Marchioness is since dead, and the Comtesse is now in possession of 60,000 livres annual income in her own right. 

In the end, it seems that Angelica has made for herself a pleasant life - that is, however, with the assumption that the correspondent was correct when writing that the seduction was of her own inclination as well as the Count's. She is released from the vows she was forced to take, free from the family that released her into a life she did not want, happily rich, and, hopefully, quite content with her Count and child. Perhaps all ended well for the young French nun.