George Hanger, Baron Coleraine
At the age of 22, George Hanger, Baron Coleraine (1751-1824) had already racked up enough controversies to fill a lifetime. Fighting for the losing side in the American War of Independence, Hanger had married a gypsy, fought 3 duels, and been injured in the war. But somehow he had enough energy left to dedicate the rest of his life to the stereotypically aristocratic pastimes of drinking, whore mongering, horse racing, and gambling. In a life well-lived, Hanger became a close friend of the Prince of Wales, lost his immense fortune, went to debtors’ prison, regained it, and became Baron Coleraine.
He was the son of Gabriel Hanger, an MP who was made the 1st Baron Coleraine in 1762. Rules of primogeniture meant that young George was not expected to inherit the title, and so he was packed off to Eton, the University of Göttingen, and finally the army. Of this latter period, George remembered in his memoirs that he ‘associated with men both good and bad, and with lewd women, and women not lewd, wicked and not wicked… human nature is in general frail, and mine I confess has been wonderfully so’. His gypsy-wife left him for an itinerant tinsmith.
His womanizing and tales of derring-do in American War made him attractive to the famously-dissolute Prince George of Wales (the eventual George IV so wonderfully portrayed by Hugh Laurie in Blackadder The Third). The two men indulged their passions for debauchery and fine clothes together, but ultimately the young nobleman proved too much for even the Prince. He was sent to debtors’ prison after running up some enormous outgoings in 1798, and upon leaving decided to make an honest living through selling coal, to the shock of society. This he did until he inherited the title Baron Coleraine in 1814.
Despite making an honorable living, George did not alter his eccentric behavior. A contemporary was distinctly unimpressed with him ‘introducing into the best apartments of the most respectable families, his cats, his dogs, and his monkeys, while reveling himself in every species of sensuality [with women of low-repute]’. His eccentricities, debauched behavior, and royal connections made him a frequent target of parody, and the satirist James Gilroy produced no fewer than 20 cartoons of him, such as the one above. Commendably, though, George was never a snob, and upon becoming Baron Coleraine insisted on being addressed as ‘Plain George Hanger’.
His memoirs are full of practical advice such as how women should elope through a window: ‘it will impress your lover with a respect for your heroism, and ever establish you, in his opinion, as a woman of spirit, courage, and spunk’. He also instructs women to settle their disputes by dueling with each other rather than involving men. His time as a coal merchant seems to have helped George to some ingenious money-making schemes, too: Scottish people spending more than 6 months below the border should be taxed, and clergymen should hire blind beggars to raise Church money.