Henry de la Poer Beresford
Many of England’s most peculiar aristocrats have been harmless eccentrics. While they may well have frittered away their privilege and good fortune or devoted their lives to follies rather than to anything of any real substance, they never really harmed anyone. But the same cannot be said of Henry de La Poer Beresford, the 3rd Marquess of Waterford. This 19th-century aristocrat was a spoiled rich boy who never grew up and a man who would often take delight in other people’s misfortune.
Born in April of 1811, he was the second son of the 2nd Marquess of Waterford. However, when his elder brother died unexpectedly, he stood to inherit the title and all the privileges that came with it, and indeed he did. Young Henry was named 3rd Marquess of Waterford in 1826 (two years after he had become of the Earl of Tyrone). Far from instilling in him a sense of maturity, duty and responsibility, however, inheriting the title only made him become wilder and more reckless. Indeed, most of the most infamous examples of his eccentric ways came after 1830.
In 1837, for example, Henry was riding home from the horse races with some friends. They had been drinking heavily and, when they arrived at a toll booth just outside of the town of Melton Mowbray, the gatekeeper demanded payment up front. Instead of paying him, however, Henry proceeded to beat him up and, finding some red paint nearby, covered him and a police constable with it. They then proceeded into town and painted several houses and the pub red too. The police tried to stop them but were attacked themselves. Only with the aid of reinforcements were the mob stopped and put in the cells for the night. Of course, Henry could laugh off the incident and simply pay for the damage done. Ever since then, “paint the town red” has been used as a term for having a wild night out.
On a more sinister level, it’s alleged that Henry once offered the London & Greenwich Railway Company £10,000 (a huge sum back then) if they would arrange a train crash so he could watch and laugh at the victims. Another story tells of how Henry handed out free gin in central London and encouraged drunken people to fight and riot for his amusement. Or then there’s the time when he galloped his horse down a crowded street, hitting dozens of people and then turned up to court on the horse the next day.
Fortunately for the people of London, Henry married the daughter of Baron Stuart to Rothesay in 1842. He moved to her family home in Ireland and married life seemed to do him good. By all accounts, he was a model husband and gentleman, even if it’s his crazy and reckless youth for which he is largely remembered.