Hyde Park from Domesday-book to Date

“Twenty-six thousand children had now to be fed, and to be amused for several hours. The first thing was to feed them, and they were accordingly marched off to the different tents, which were ranged at intervals of fifty yards, five on either side, about fifty yards distant from the central roadway, up which the Queen was later to proceed. Each tent was 140 feet long, by 40 feet wide, but its accommodation was severely tried, in ministering to the wants of 2500 children. There was, however, no confusion. Each school knew the tent to which it was to proceed; and, having marched thither, drew up outside. Then, in their turn, the children in batches of 250 proceeded into the tent, and received a paper bag containing their rations – a meat pie, a piece of cake, a bun, and an orange – and were also presented with a silver-plated memorial medal, having on one side a portrait of the Queen in 1837, and, on the other, a portrait of her Majesty in 1887. During the afternoon, lemonade, ginger beer, and milk were to be had in each tent, and there were four large water-carts stationed in different parts of the ground, which dispensed a plentiful supply of water to the thirsty. Each tent was in charge of one lady, who was assisted by eleven other ladies and twelve gentlemen. With such a staff, the work of dissemination rapidly proceeded, and the children were soon supplied with their much appreciated paper parcels.

“The children having picnicked on the grass, proceeded to roam at large in search of amusement. They could not go far without finding it. It was, indeed, a case of l’embarras des richesses, for the counter attractions were many and various. There were a score of Punch and Judy shows, eight Marionette theatres, eighty-six Cosmoramic Views and Peep-shows, nine troups of performing dogs, monkeys and ponies; and, for the special benefit of the boys, several hundred ‘Aunt Sallies’ and ‘Knock ’em downs.’ There were 100 large lucky-dip barrels, and a great, distribution of presents, to the number of 42,000, consisting of skipping-ropes, money-boxes, dolls, pencil-cases, tin whistles, walking sticks, pop-guns, and hoc genus omne. Ten thousand small balloons, inflated with gas, also afforded the children considerable amusement. Meanwhile, the proceedings were enlivened with much good music. The bands of the 2nd Life Guards, the Royal Horse Guards, Royal Artillery, Royal Engineers and Grenadier Guards, with two or three civilian bands, were stationed at different points, at such distances apart as to allow of their playing simultaneously without conflicting, and the children had the good taste to listen, and apparently to appreciate. Flitting to and fro, from one point of attraction to the other, the young folks seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly, and the time went quickly by.

“The Prince and Princess of Wales, with the three Princesses, arrived soon after 4 o’clock, and appeared much pleased by the manifest gratification which their presence afforded to the children. Their Royal Highnesses, after having been received by Mr. Lawson, and conducted to the Committee tent, proceeded to one of the ordinary tents, where the distribution of memorial cups was going on. Having made their way through the juvenile and excited throng which pressed around them, the Prince and Princess handed a cup each to several of the children. The visit was quite unpremeditated, and no arrangements had been made. It was, therefore, a case of first come first served, and the children struggled hard, with outstretched hands, in their efforts to secure a cup from the hands of their Royal Highnesses. The Prince smiled good-humouredly at their eagerness; and as he left the tent ’God bless the Prince of Wales’ was sung with much heartiness. Their Royal Highnesses then returned to the Committee tent, where the gentlemen and ladies who, earlier in the day, had assisted in the tents, and other invited guests, were assembled. At half-past 4 o’clock the bugle sound announced that the amusements must end, and the music cease. The children betook themselves to their respective tents, and, having been duly collected together, under the charge of their masters and mistresses, proceeded to take up positions along the road to be traversed by the Queen. The bands were massed under the direction of Mr. Dan Godfrey, and drawn up opposite the flag-staff where the Queen’s carriage was expected to stop.

“The Queen was expected on the ground at half-past 5, but it was considerably later before her Majesty’s procession arrived. In the interval, several of the Royal guests joined the Prince and Princess of Wales in the reserved enclosure, the children cheering lustily as they drove past. When the time approached for her Majesty’s appearance, even Mr. Dale’s huge balloon, which was unloosed from its fastenings, and soared at once high into the air, failed to rouse anything approaching to the excitement which so interesting an event was calculated to arouse. The thoughts of the children were intent upon the Queen, and for the moment they were engrossed with the prospect of seeing her. It may be doubted even whether they paid much attention to the pealing of the sweet-toned bells which Mr. Irving had allowed the Committee to remove from the Lyceum Theatre, where until recently they were nightly heard in the cathedral scene in Faust, and which now began to send across the playground their soft and modulated sounds.

“At last, the appearance of a dozen mounted constables, trotting up the roadway, betokened that the chief event of the day might shortly be expected. Nor were the children disappointed this time, as they had been once or twice previously, when carriages had driven up which they thought might have contained the Queen, but which held occupants who were unknown to them. The hoisting of the Royal Standard to the top of the flag-staff, and the strains of the National Anthem, played by the massed bands, removed the last doubt as to the nature of the cortêge which now slowly entered the Park by the Achilles statue. First came a party of Life Guards, with their flashing breast-plates and plume-crested helmets, and then the Indian escort, who had played so conspicuous a part in the pageant of the preceding day. Their swarthy faces and stolid demeanour, and the strange beauty of their uniforms, will long linger in the recollection of the youthful spectators. The Royal carriages, which were immediately preceded by outriders in scarlet, were all open, and some were drawn by four horses.

“The Queen’s carriage was stopped opposite the flag-staff, and the chief ceremony of the day was at once begun. Miss Lawson, on behalf of the children of the London Board and Voluntary schools, presented a bouquet, and the Prince of Wales then led up to the carriage a little girl named Florence Dunn, to whom her Majesty gave one of the memorial cups. The Prince having explained that the child had never missed a single attendance during the seven years she had passed at school, the Queen expressed the pleasure which she felt in rewarding so industrious a scholar. To Mr. Edward Lawson, who was also presented to her, she intimated that she was extremely gratified to see the charming scene which the Park presented. The Royal procession remained stationary a few moments longer, while a verse of the ‘Old Hundredth’ was sung by the children, and then resumed its progress northwards, leaving the Park by the Fountain Gate, for Paddington station.

“The Prince and Princess of Wales, and the Royal guests who had not left with the Queen, took their departure shortly afterwards, and the children then returned to the tents, where simple refreshments were again served out. Their red-letter day had come to an end, as even the best things must, and, marshalled by their officers, they prepared to return to their homes, where the story of their doings on the occasion of the Queen’s Jubilee is pretty certain to be repeated many and many a time.”

The memorial cups alluded to were of earthenware, specially manufactured by Messrs. Doulton and Sons, at their potteries, Lambeth, and they had on one side a portrait of the Queen as she was at her Accession in 1837, and on the other a portrait of her at her Jubilee in 1887.

CHAPTER XXI

List of Rangers – A horse jumping the wall – Highwaymen – Horace Walpole robbed – Other robberies – Assaults, offences, etc., in the present reign – A very recent case.

The nominal head or Keeper of the Park is called the Ranger, and the first Keeper was made in the reign of Henry VIII. His name was George Roper, and besides lodging, fire, etc., venison, cattle grazing, etc., his salary was sixpence a day; and he kept this position until his death in 1553, when he was succeeded by Francis Nevell, whose salary was reduced to fourpence a day.

In 1574 a coadjutor was appointed to relieve him of some of his arduous duties, and he was a first cousin to Queen Elizabeth, being a son of Anne Boleyn’s younger sister Mary. He was Henry Carey, first Lord Hunsdon. This shows that the office of Keeper was one of honour, for Hunsdon certainly could not have cared for the 4d. a day attached to the office, as he was not only well-to-do, and lord of several manors, but a Knight of the Garter, Privy Councillor, Captain of the Gentlemen Pensioners, Governor of Berwick, Chamberlain of the Queen’s Household, etc., etc. At Nevell’s death Lord Hunsdon became sole Keeper, and his fee was then 8d. per day. At his death, in 1596, his fourth son, Sir Edward Carey, knight, succeeded him in sole occupancy of the post. In 1607 he was followed by Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, the son of Queen Elizabeth’s Lord Burghley; but, for some reason or other, a coadjutor was appointed in 1610, Sir Walter Cope, who built the greater part of Holland House, Kensington. But he only kept it for a couple of years, and on the Earl of Salisbury’s death, in 1612, and his consequent accession to the undivided keepership, he surrendered it for life to his son-in-law, Sir Henry Rich, who was created Earl of Holland in 1624, and beheaded in 1649. In 1630, he had asked, as a favour, that the succession might be given to the Earl of Newport (afterwards the Earl of Warwick), and at his death he asked for its reversion to Sir John Smith.

At the Commonwealth, it was proposed that Lord Howard of Escricke should be the Keeper, but the Earl of Warwick pleaded the Earl of Holland’s grant so effectually, that he obtained the appointment; not, however, to enjoy it long, for, when the Parliament sold Hyde Park, the office of Keeper was, necessarily, abolished. At the restoration, Charles II. made his younger brother Henry, Duke of Gloucester, Keeper of the Park, but he dying four months afterwards, the place was given (Sept., 1660), to James Hamilton, Esq. He got from it something more substantial than any of his predecessors, for he was granted the triangular piece of land where the fort had been built, at the south-eastern portion of the Park, by Hyde Park Corner, and now known as Hamilton Place. He also had a concession of 55 acres, whereon to grow apples in the Park. Of this he had a lease for 49 years, on condition that he surrounded it with a brick wall eight feet high, and gave the King half the produce of the orchard, in apples or in cider, at his Majesty’s option. Hamilton was killed at sea, in an engagement with the Dutch, in 1673, and the office of Keeper was vacant till 1684, when it was filled up by the appointment of Wm. Harbord, Esq., M.P. for Launceston.

The title of “Keeper” now disappears, and in its stead the officer is styled, as now, Ranger of St. James’s, Green and Hyde Parks, and in 1694 the Earl of Bath was made Ranger. In 1700, Edward Villiers, first Earl of Jersey, was appointed to the post, but he only held it three years, relinquishing it in 1703 to Henry Portman, Esq., who succeeded to the enormous property of his cousin Sir William Portman. This gentleman must have resigned the Rangership before his death, for, in 1714, it was given to Walter Chetwynd, Esq., who had been Queen Anne’s Master of the Buckhounds. He kept it until the accession of George II., when this noble piece of patronage was bestowed upon the Earl of Essex, who having resigned it in 1739, his place was taken by Viscount Weymouth, afterwards Marquis of Bath, who held it until his death in 1751.

He was succeeded by Thomas, first Earl of Pomfret, who died in 1753, and the vacant Rangership was conferred on the Earl of Ashburnham, who resigned it in 1762. The position was then accepted by the Earl of Orford, who kept it till 1778, when he was succeeded by General Charles Fitzroy, afterwards Lord Southampton. He resigned it in 1783, and then it was taken by the Earl of Sandwich, better known by his nickname of Jemmy Twitcher; but he only retained it one year, and it was then resumed by the Earl of Orford, until his death in 1791. Next to him came Lord William Wyndham Grenville, who resigned in 1793, and was followed by the Earl of Euston, afterwards Duke of Grafton. He kept in office till 1807, and after him came Viscount Sydney, who kept it till his death in 1831. Then the office came into the hands of royalty, in the person of the Duke of Sussex, who was Ranger till his death in 1843, when it was taken by his brother, the Duke of Cambridge. At his death in 1850, the Rangership was conferred on the Duke of Wellington, and on his death on the Duke of Cambridge, the present Duke, who still holds the office, which is entirely honorary: but he has under him a Superintendent Ranger, with a salary of 191l., and a Superintendent of Works, at 260l. per annum.

It was during Col. Hamilton’s keepership that Hyde Park was enclosed with a brick wall, high enough to keep in the deer with which the Park had been restocked; and this wall lasted till 1726, when a new wall was built six feet six inches high on the inside, and eight feet on the outside, a wall which one might well think could not be negotiated by any horse. Yet a horse belonging to a Mr. Bingham did twice clear it, in 1792; once in a standing leap, and once in a flying leap. This wall continued till 1828, when it was replaced by the iron railings which were demolished by the mob in 1866, they in their turn giving place to those which now surround the Park.

What are the duties of a Ranger I have no idea, except that we see his name attached at the bottom of the rules and regulations of the Park; but seeing that the position is honorary, and that he has a deputy, they cannot be very onerous. One thing is certain, he seems to have no power to put down acts of violence, which have occurred, and still are occurring in Hyde Park, nor does the personal safety of those who use the Park for purposes of recreation seem to be one of his functions.

Larwood says that robberies in Hyde Park were so common in the reign of William III. that the King ordered the Guards to patrol the Park till eleven o’clock at night, and “In addition to this a guard house was built in the Park in 1699, ‘for securing the road against footpads, who,’ according to the London Post, Dec. 16, 1699, ‘continue to be very troublesome.’ ” This assertion may be correct, but there is no mention of it in the newspaper named, nor in any other contemporaneous journal; nor can I find any account of a highway robbery in the Park in Feb., 1749. The Penny London Post, 12-15 May, 1749, says, “On Wednesday Night (May 10) Mr. Hoskins, a Pale Ale Brewer in Tyburn Road, was robbed by three footpads near the Serpentine River, in Hyde Park, of a purse of silver, to the amount of eighteen pounds, which he had a little before received at a Publick house at Kensington.”

But a famous person, no less than Horace Walpole, was robbed in the Park, on Nov. 8, 1749, of which he gives the following account, in his Short Notes. “One night, in the beginning of November, 1749, as I was returning from Holland House by moonlight, about ten at night, I was attacked by two highwaymen (McLean and Plunket) in Hyde Park, and the pistol of one of them (the accomplished McLean) going off accidentally, grazed the skin under my eye, left some marks of shot on my face, and stunned me. The ball went through the top of the chariot, and, if I had sat an inch nearer to the left side, must have gone through my head.” The General Advertiser of Nov. 15, 1749, says: “We hear that the Hon. Horace Walpole Esqre, who was lately robb’d in Hyde Park, has received a letter, intimating that if he would send his Footman, to a House in Tyburn Road, with 30 Guineas he should have his Watch restor’d, and also that of his Coachman, provided the Footman behaved as directed in the said letter.”

In No. 103 of The World (Dec. 19, 1754) this robbery is commented on. “An acquaintance of mine was robbed a few years ago, and very near shot through the head by the going off of the pistol of the accomplished Mr. McLean; yet the whole affair was conducted with the greatest good breeding on both sides. The robber, who had only taken a purse this way because he had that morning been disappointed of marrying a great fortune, no sooner returned to his lodgings than he sent the gentleman two letters of excuses, which, with less wit than the epistles of Voiture, had ten times more natural and easy politeness in the turn of their expression. In the postscript he appointed a meeting at Tyburn, at twelve at night, where the gentleman might purchase again any trifles he had lost; and my friend has been blamed for not accepting the rendezvous, as it seemed liable to be construed by ill-natured people into a doubt of the honour of a man who had given him all the satisfaction in his power, for having, unluckily, been near shooting him through the head.”

It was not only in Hyde Park, but all over London, that these highway robberies took place, but, naturally, they were more prevalent at the West End, because the inhabitants were richer. People were convoyed home from the suburbs, such as Hampstead and Kensington, and The Penny London Post (Jan. 26-29, 1750) says: “So many Robberies have been committed lately in the New Buildings at the Court end of the Town, that the Servants go armed with Blunderbusses and Pistols, with both Coaches and Chairs on Nights.”

Generally, people seem to have taken their robbery very calmly, and made no attempt to capture the thief, but one met with his deserts at Hyde Park Corner, as we see in Read’s Weekly Journal of June 29, 1751: “Last Friday 7-night, as Mr. Hornsby and his Lady, and Mr. Harding, were returning from Ranelagh Gardens, in a Coach, they were stopped between the Lock and St. George’s Hospitals, Hyde Park Corner, by a single Highwayman, well mounted, who presented a Pistol, and demanded their Money: and while Mr. Harding was amusing him with a few Shillings, Mr. Hornsby clapt a Pistol to his breast and fired, which frighten’d the Highwayman’s Horse, and gave the Coachman an Opportunity of driving off. ’Tis apprehended the Highwayman is either killed or dangerously wounded, the Pistol touching his Breast when Mr. Hornsby fired. The next Morning, the Highwayman’s Pistol was found by the Watch, loaded with a Brace of Slugs.”

Singularly ungallant, too, were some of the footpads, as we may read in The London Chronicle, July 28-30, 1774: “Sunday evening, two Ladies walking in Kensington Gardens were met by two Gentlemen, who entered into Conversation with them; and, after walking together for some time in the Gardens, the Gentlemen begged permission to accompany them home, to which the Ladies consented. When they came near Grosvenor Gate, the pretended Gentlemen pulled out their pistols and demanded their money, which amounted to near two guineas, and their gold watches, with which they made off.”

But this is sufficient of old outrages: let us see whether we have amended our ways, taking only a few instances in the present reign. The following is the statement of a young woman, aged 26, as recorded in The Times of Dec. 11, 1840: —

“She had been that afternoon to Hammersmith to see a lady respecting a situation; and on returning, at Kensington, was induced by the bright moonlight to proceed through the Park, as the nearest way to town. She, however, by mistake took the footpath to Kensington Gardens – instead of that at the side of the carriage road, which closely abuts on the high road; and had not proceeded far when she passed a tall, stout man, of respectable appearance, who followed her; and, on approaching the one-arched bridge, accosted her, and wanted to enter into conversation, which she avoided by walking fast. About the centre of the bridge, he suddenly caught hold of her, pushed her against the balustrades of the bridge, which at that spot consists of ornamental iron railings about 3 feet high, and forcibly attempted to take liberties with her, which she strongly resisted; and, being a powerful woman, struggled desperately with him, calling out ‘Murder’ at the utmost pitch of her voice; when the villain suddenly stooped down, and catching hold of her legs, threw her, with great violence, over the bridge into the water, and instantly effected his escape. From her appearance, when brought to the Receiving House, it was evident that she had fallen head first into the water, as her head and shoulders were thickly incrusted with the mud at the bottom of the stream.” I fail to trace that this ruffian was ever caught.

The Times, Oct. 13, 1842: —

“Hyde Park After Dark

“Saturday evening, about half past 8, as a person named Newport was walking along Rotten Row, he was accosted by a man who asked him the time, and said, ‘Let me see your watch.’ Mr. Newport refused to tell him, or pull out his watch, upon which the ruffian instantly seized him by the collar, and said, ‘You are my prisoner, you have been acting improperly’; but on Mr. Newport immediately calling out ‘Murder! Police!’ his assailant let go his hold, and running away, effected his escape.” – “On Sunday night, about five minutes before 10, a young man named Pummell was returning from town along the carriage road leading from Hyde Park Corner to the Kensington Gate, which is close to the high road, when he was stopped by a man, who said to him, ‘Are you going to stand half a pint of beer, old fellow?’ Pummell told him ‘he should not, indeed’; when the fellow said, ‘You had better stand it before you go any further.’ Pummell, however, repeated he would not, and was walking away, when another man, whom he had not before observed, jumped from the ditch under the rails at the side of the path, and said, ‘We are hard up, and on the tramp, so you must give us half a pint of beer, or something, before you go on.’ Pummell, becoming alarmed, raised a walking stick he had in his hand, and called loudly for assistance, upon which, one of the fellows snatched at his stick, but only caught hold of the tassel, which was torn away in the attempt. Pummell then ran off, at his utmost speed, towards the Kensington Gate, from which he was not far distant, and the two fellows ran across the Park, and effected their escape.”

A few years later, things were not much better, as we find in a letter in The Times of Aug. 7th, 1847. “It is now proved beyond a doubt that any blackguard may insult, attack and rob you with perfect impunity, unless you can induce him to wait patiently whilst you scour the park in search of a policeman to take possession of him. Here is a case in point. I was in the park last evening. Some children were amusing themselves with a kite. Two blackguards crossed their path, and at once took possession of their ball of string. I desired them to return it, otherwise I should give them in charge. They very complacently glanced around them, and then began to pour forth, within the hearing of several women and children, a torrent of the most filthy language. A gentleman who came up at the time interfered, and the abuse was at once turned upon him; the intention of the men being, evidently, to create a disturbance, and then profit by it. I at once went in search of a policeman: after walking about a quarter of a mile, I met a park-keeper. His answer to my request was, ‘Oh! I can’t interfere, you’ll find a policeman somewhere.’ I proceeded in my search, and at last found one on the other side of the Serpentine, amongst the bathers: he very readily accompanied me, although leaving his especial duty, and the matter was soon settled.”

Complaints were also made of the inadequacy of the police during the building of the Great Exhibition of 1851. Crowds used to go every Sunday to see how it had progressed, and a dweller in Park Place thus writes to The Times (vide Feb. 18, 1851): “I will content myself by merely stating that scarcely a Sunday now passes that the disturbance does not terminate in a fight. On one occasion, a soldier and a civilian, each striving to go contrary ways through the gate, at length came to blows. On a subsequent Sunday a similar conflict took place between a soldier and a policeman; and yesterday two men were fighting under my sitting-room windows for some considerable time. This latter encounter, especially, was not a mere skirmish; on the contrary, a ring was made, the men were each backed by a second: in fact, there was all the formula of a regular pitched battle.”