[64]. Eheu fugaces anni—not only have the men departed, but their local habitations have vanished. The spacious hotel, once Wallace’s, now the Alexandra, and palatial mansions, cover the ground extending from Hyde Park Corner (on the side of St. George’s Hospital), towards St. Paul’s new Puseyite pinnacles at Knightsbridge. Even “the Corner” itself—the world-famed “Tattersall’s” has migrated. It will be known only to the remainder of the present, and the next rising generation, as the splendid club-room and spacious horse-mart at the junction of the Brompton and Kensington Roads.
[65]. About 1790, Lord Barrymore was in the hey-day of his riot and “larkery” at Brighton, where the Prince of Wales had just finished that grotesque kiosk known as the Pavilion, once the scene of royal orgies, now a cockney show-shop of London super mare. The Lord Barrymore, who was Hooper’s patron, was the head of the family firm nicknamed Newgate, Hellgate, and Cripplegate, from colloquial, acquired, or personal peculiarities. On hearing these elegant sobriquets, the Prince is said to have objected to the omission of the lady sister of the trio from this nomenclature, and ungallantly suggested the name of “Billingsgate,” as a fourth of the family.
One anecdote is too characteristic of the actors to be lost. “In one of his wild freaks, his Lordship, from his lofty phaeton, struck with his driving whip a Mr. Donadieu, a respectable perfumer of Brighton, who was driving in his gig, for not getting quickly enough out of his impetuous Lordship’s way. Mr. Donadieu drove after him, but his lordship’s terrible high-bred cattle soon distanced him. The next morning Mr. D., perceiving Lord Barrymore upon the Steyne, in company with several sporting men, went up to him and remonstrated upon the ungentlemanly usage he had experienced the previous day. His Lordship replied insultingly, and struck the perfumer. The tradesman was an Englishman, and at once returned the blow. A smart rally convinced the eccentric peer that his credit as a boxer was at stake, for his resolute opponent drove him before his attack. Lord Barrymore tried to take an unfair advantage, when the Prince of Wales, who had witnessed the whole fracas from a window of the Pavilion, called out in a loud voice, ‘D——e, Barrymore, fight like a man!’” In the Hon. Grantley F. Berkeley’s volumes, “My Life and Recollections” (London, Hurst and Blackett, 1865), vol. i., pp. 49–78, is a curious sketch of Brighton at the close of the 18th century, with anecdotes of Colonel Hanger, Lord Barrymore, John Jackson, etc., and the ladies whom the heir apparent delighted to honour. The specimen of the Prince’s style, in the anecdote of the Royal Harriers, pp. 70, 71, will show that the “first gentleman of Europe” was facile princeps in the then fashionable accomplishment of swearing. Grantley Berkeley makes a slip in the closing lines of his notice of Lord Barrymore, which it may be worth while to correct. He says: “A rapid career of reckless extravagance was brought to a sudden close whilst marching with a detachment towards Dover: the musket of one of his men went off, eventually causing his (Lord Barrymore’s) death.” We must acquit the Berkshire militia of this charge of clumsy or intentional homicide. We extract from the memoir of a contemporary: “Lord Barrymore was a lieutenant of the Berkshire militia stationed at Rye, and was marching a party of French prisoners to Deal. They marched through Folkestone to the top of the succeeding hill, and halted at a small public-house to refresh his men and the prisoners. Admiral Macbride and General Smith met his lordship there; he was in high spirits, and accepted an invitation to dine with them at Deal. Lord Barrymore had marched at the head of his party from Rye; he now ordered his valet-de-chambre, who drove his curricle in the rear, to procure him a pipe of tobacco, saying, ‘I’ll ride and smoke while you drive.’ He was in high glee, counted up the score with chalk on a slate, à la Boniface; imitated Hob, from ‘Hob in the Well,’ a farce he was very partial to; treated all about him; gave the landlady a kiss, and leaped into the curricle. He gave the fusil to his servant, who placed it carelessly between his legs and drove off. They had scarcely proceeded fifty yards when the piece went off. The contents entered his lordship’s right cheek, forced out the eye, and lodged in the brain: he was pointing to the coast of France at the moment. He lived forty minutes, groaning heavily, but never spoke again. The fusil was loaded with swan shot; he had been killing gulls and rabbits on his way from Rye to Folkestone. An inquest was held on the 8th of March, the verdict ‘Accidental Death.’ He was interred on Sunday, March 17, 1793, in the chancel of the church at Wargrave.”
[66]. In “Fistiana,” Wright is, by a slip, called “Lord Barrymore’s man.” Cotterel’s fight is also omitted under Hooper.
[67]. This battle does not appear under Hooper’s name in “Fistiana.”
[68]. There not being time for the second contest between Stanyard, of Birmingham, and Andrew Gamble, the Irish champion, it was postponed to the next day. See Gamble, in Appendix to Period II.
[69]. Maddox will find his place under Cribb’s period. His first fight was in 1792, his last with Bill Richmond in 1809.
[70]. See Wood’s memoir, Appendix to Period II., post.
[71]. “Fistiana” misprints it sixteen minutes.
[72]. A memoir of this well-known boniface, whose memory yet lives with old ring-goers, (he died at his house at Plumstead, Kent, in 1843), will be found in its chronological order.