Hyde Park from Domesday-book to Date

But, if Cromwell could drive the coach of State, he could not always manage to drive his own, and there is one memorable instance of his coming to grief in Hyde Park, in 1654, in endeavouring so to do, the story of which is thus told by General Ludlow (who was no friend to the Protector) in his Memoirs.19

“In the mean time, Cromwel having assumed the whole Power of the Nation to himself, and sent Ambassadors and Agents to Foreign States, was courted again by them, and presented with the Rarities of several Countries; amongst the rest the Duke of Holstein made him a Present of a Set of gray Frizeland Coach-Horses, with which taking the Air in the Park, attended only with his Secretary Thurlow, and Guard of Janizaries, he would needs take the place of the Coachman, not doubting but the three pair of Horses he was about to drive would prove as tame as the three Nations which were ridden by him: and, therefore, not contented with their ordinary pace, he lashed them very furiously. But they, unaccustomed to such a rough Driver, ran away in a Rage, and stop’d not till they had thrown him out of the box, with which Fall, his Pistol fired in his Pocket, tho without any hurt to himself; by which he might have been instructed how dangerous it was to intermeddle with those things wherein he had no Experience.”

In Thurloe’s State Papers (vol. ii. p, 652) there is another account of this accident, in a letter, dated October 16, 1654 (N.S.), from “The Dutch embassadors in England, to the States General.

My Lords, – After the sending away of our letters of last friday, we were acquainted the next morning, which we heard nothing of the night before, that about that time a mischance happened to the lord protector, which might have been, in all likelihood, very fatal unto him, if God had not wonderfully preserved him; as we are informed the manner of it to be thus. His highness, only accompanied with Secretary Thurloe and some few of his gentlemen and servants, went to take the air in Hyde Park, where he caused some dishes of meat to be brought; where he made his dinner, and, afterwards, had a desire to drive the coach himself, having put only the secretary into it, being those six horses, which the earl of Oldenburgh had presented unto his highness, who drove pretty handsomely for some time; but, at last, provoking those horses too much with the whip, they grew unruly, and run so fast that the postillion could not hold them in; whereby his highness was flung out of the coach box upon the pole, upon which he lay with his body, and, afterwards, fell upon the ground. His foot getting hold in the tackling, he was carried away a good while in that posture, during which a pistol went off in his pocket; but, at last, he got his foot clear, and so came to escape, the coach passing away without hurting him. He was presently brought home, and let blood; and, after some rest taken, he is now pretty well again. The secretary, being hurt on his ancle with leaping out of the coach, hath been forced to keep his chamber hitherto, and been unfit for any business; so that we have not been able to further or expedite any business this week.”

Larwood, in his Story of the London Parks, gives quotations from two poetical lampoons, which I have not been able to verify, and, therefore, give them on his authority. And, he says, there was a poem called The Jolt, by Sir John Birkenhead, treating of this accident. The first quotation he gives he does not say whence it is taken, and is as follows:

“Every day and hour has shown us his power,And now he has shown us his art.His first reproach was a fall from a coach —And his next will be from a cart.”

A pleasant allusion to his probable fate, for a criminal who was to be hanged, was taken to the gallows on a cart, and, the halter being round his neck, the horse was whipped, and the cart being drawn from under him, the unfortunate man was left swinging.

The other quotation, he says, occurs in a ballad called, “Old England is now a brave Barbary.”

“But Noll, a rank rider, gets first in the saddle,And make her show tricks, curvate and rebound;She quickly perceived he rode widdle-waddle,And, like his coach-horses, threw his Highness to the ground.”

Hyde Park seems to have been fraught with danger to the Protector, for in 1657 there was a plot to have assassinated him. The chief conspirators were a man named Sindercombe, or Fish, a cashiered quarter-master in Monk’s army, and another named Cecil, who turned approver; who in his evidence20 said,

“That the first time they rode forth to kill him, was the latter end of September last, (viz.) the Saturday after he had left going to Hampton Court.

“That the second time was when he rode to Kensington, and thence, the back way to London.

“The third time, when he went to Hide-Park in his coach.

“The fourth time, when he went to Turnham Green, and so by Acton home, at which time they rode forth to kill him, and resolved to break through all difficulties to effect it.

“The fifth time, when he rode into Hide-Park, where his Highness alighting, asked him, the said Cecil, whose horse that was he rode on, Sundercomb being then on the outside of the Park; and then Cecill was ready to have done it, but doubted, his horse having at that time got a cold.”

That they meant to kill the Protector there can be little doubt, and looked after their means of escape afterwards, for we read in the papers of the day21 how – “Once, they thought to have done their work as his Highness was taking the aire in Hide-Park; and, to make way for their Escape, they had, in one place, Filed off the Hinges of the Gates, and rode about with the train attending his Highness, with intent to have given him a fatall Charge, if he had chanced to have galloped out at any distance from the company.” They also had pulled down some of the fencing, so as to leave them another place of egress.

Sindercombe was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered; but, on the night previous to his execution, he found means to poison himself, and so cheated the gallows. The coroner’s jury found a verdict of felo de se,22 and “On the same day, February 17, Miles Sindercom aforesaid, being found to have murthered himself, his Body was, according to Law, drawn to the open place upon Tower Hill, at a Horses Taile, with his head foreward, and there, under the Scaffold of Common execution, a Hole being digg’d, he was turned in stark naked, and a stake, spiked with Iron, was driven through him into the earth; That part of the stake which remaines above ground, being all plated with Iron, which may stand as an example of terror to all Traytors for the time to come.”

Previous to this, it had been found necessary to protect the Park, by authority, as we see by two entries in the Journals of the House of Commons. “7 Oct., 1643. Ordered, That the Officers and Soldiers at the Courts of Guard be required not to permit any to cut down Trees or Woods in Hyde Park, or Maribone Park, but such as are authorized thereto by Ordinance of Parliament; and not to suffer any such persons to go out of the Works to cut the Woods in these two Parks, or to bring any from thence, but by Warrant from the Committees appointed for that Ordinance: and the Officers and Soldiers at the Courts of Guard are required, from time to time, to be aiding and assisting to Sir John Hippesley, a Member of this House, on all Occasions, to prevent the cutting down or destroying of the said Parks, unless it be by Authority of the Ordinance aforesaid.”

And there is another entry on Oct. 14, 1644. “Whereas Information hath been given, That several unruly and disorderly Persons have, in a tumultuous and riotous Manner, broken into Hide Park, pulled down the Pales to destroy his Majesty’s Deer and Wood there, notwithstanding strict Command hath been given to the Contrary: It is Ordered and Ordained, by the Lords and Commons in Parliament, That the said Park and Deer, and the Woods and Pales, belonging to the said Park, are hereby protected from the Violence of any Person or Persons whatever: and that no Soldier, or other, shall presume to pull down, or take away, any of the Pales belonging to the same, nor kill, or destroy, any Deer therein; or cut, fell, or carry away, any Wood growing in or about the said Park, or Mounds thereof. And it is further Ordered for the better Prevention of the Mischiefs aforesaid, That all Captains and Commanders of Guards and Forts near the said Park, shall give Notice of this Ordinance to the Soldiers under their several Commands: And that they themselves likewise do their Uttermost Endeavours, that this Ordinance shall be obeyed in all Points: And, lastly, that if any Others, not being Soldiers, shall offend contrary to this Ordinance, that the Keepers of the said Park, or some of them may charge any of his Majesty’s Officers with the said offenders: Who are to be brought before the Parliament, to be proceeded with according to their Demerits.”

When the King “came to his own again,” the gentlemen who had purchased Hyde Park, had to restore it to the Crown, on the grounds that the sale had never been ratified by Parliament: and an early Act of His Majesty’s was to build a wall around the Park, and re-stock a portion of it with deer.

CHAPTER III

The camp in Hyde Park during the Plague of 1665 – Boscobel Oaks in the Park – When first opened to the public – What it was then like – The Cheesecake House – Its homely refections – Orange girls.

In 1665, at the time of the great Plague, Hyde Park was put to a sad use, as is well described in a contemporary poem entitled “Hide Park Camp Limned out to the Life, etc.”

“In July, Sixteen hundred sixty and five,(O happy is the Man that’s now alive)When God’s destroying Angel sore did smite us,’Cause he from sin could by no means invite us:When Lovely London was in Mourning Clad,And not a countenance appear’d but sad;When the Contagion all about was spread;And People in the Streets did fall down dead.When Money’d fugitives away did flee,And took their Heels, in hopes to scape scot-free.Just then we March’t away, the more’s the pitty,And took our farewell of the Doleful City.With heavy Hearts unto Hide Park we came,To chuse a place whereas we might remain:Our Ground we view’d, then streight to work we fall,And build up Houses without any Wall.We pitched our Tents on Ridges, and in Furrows,And there encamp’t, fearing th’ Almighty’s Arrows.But O alass! What did all this avail:Our men (ere long) began to droop and quail.Our Lodgings cold, and some not us’d thereto,Fell sick, and dy’d, and made us more adoe.At length the Plague amongst us ’gan to spread,When ev’ry morning some were found stark dead.Down to another Field the sick were t’ane;But few went down, that e’er came up again.For want of comfort, many, I observ’d,Perish’d and dy’d, which might have been preserv’d.But that which most of all did grieve my Soul,To see poor Christians drag’d into a Hole:Tye Match about them, as they had been Logs,And draw them into Holes, far worse than Dogs.When each Man did expect his turn was next,O then our Hearts with sorrow was perplext.Our Officers amazed stood, for dread,To see their men no sooner sick but dead.But that which most of all did grieve them, Why?To help the same there was no remedy.A Pest-house was prepar’d, and means was us’d,That none should be excluded, or refus’d:Yet all would not avail, they dy’d apace,As one dy’d out, another took his place.A sad and dismal time, as ere was known,When Corps, in the wide fields about was strown.“But stay, my Muse; I think ’tis but a follyTo plunge ourselves too deep in Melancholly;Let us revive a little, though in jest,Of a bad Market we must make the best.Is nothing left to chear us? not one Sup?We’le try conclusions, ere the Game be up.Methinks I hear some say, Friend, Prithee hark,Where got you drink and Victuals in the Park?I, there’s the Query; We shall soon decide it,Why, We had Men, cal’d Sutlers, provided;Subtle they were, before they drove this Trade,But by this means, they all were sutler made.No wind, or weather, ere could make them flinch,Yet they would have the Souldiers at a pinch.For my part, I know little of their way,But what I hear my fellow Souldiers say;One said, Their Meat and Pottage was too fat;Yes, quoth another, we got none of that:Besides, quoth he, they have a cunning sleight,In selling out their Meat by pinching weight;To make us pay sixpence a pound for Beefe,To a poor Souldier, is no little grief.Their Bread is small, their Cheese is mark’t by th’ Inch,And, to speak truth, they’re all upon the pinch.As for their Liquor, drink it but at leisure,And you shall ne’re be drunk with over measure.Thus would they often talk to one another;And, for my part, I speak it as a Brother,They for the Sutlers put up many a Prayer,When, for themselves they took not so much care.This was, it seems, most of the Sutlers’ dealings,But yet, I say, there’s none but have their failings.They might do this (poor men), yet think no evil.Therefore they’l go to God, or to the D – .“But leave them now, because Tat-too has beat,And fairly to our Tents let us retreat,Where we keep such a coyl, and such a quarter,And all to make the tedious nights seem shorter.Then down we lie, until our bones do ake,First one side, then the other weary make.When frost did pinch us, then we shake and shiver,And full as bad we were in stormy weather;A boistrous blast, when men with sleep were dead,Would bring their Houses down upon their head.Thus in extremity, we often lay,Longing to see the dawning of the dayWhich brought us little comfort, for the AirWas very sharp, and very hard our fare.Our sufferings were almost beyond belief,And yet we found small hopes to have relief.“Our brave Commanders, Valiant, Stout and Bold,Was neither pinch’t with hunger, nor with cold,They quaft the Bowls about, one to another,With good Canary they kept out the weather;And oft to one another would say thus,(When we are gone, then gone is all with us)And thus, in mirth, they chear’d their Spirits up,By taking t’other Pipe, and t’other Cup:Much good may it do their hearts; we should have doneThe same ourselves, had we been in their room.We were as glad when we got to a CupOf nappy Ale, to take a pretty sup;But durst not go to Town, on any cause,For fear the Martial catch us in his Claws.About the Park to walk for recreation,We might be free, we knew our Bounds and Station.But not a Coach was stirring any where,Unless t’were such as brought us in our Beer.Alass, Hide Park, these are with thee sad dayes,The Coaches all are turn’d to Brewers’ Drayes;Instead of Girls with Oranges and Lemons,The Bakers’ boys, they brought in loaves by dozens;And by that means, they kept us pretty sober,Until the latter end of wet October.They promis’d we should march, and then we leapt,But all their promises were broke (or kept).They made us all, for want of Winter Quarters,Ready to hang ourselves in our own Garters.“At last, the Dove came with the Olive Branch,And told, for certain, that we should advanceOut of the Field; O then we leapt for joy,And cry’d with one accord, Vive le Roy.What did the Sutlers then? nay, what do ye think?For very grief, they gave away their drink:But it’s no matter, let them laugh that wins,They were no loosers (God forgive their sins).“Upon Gunpowder Treason day, (at Night)We burnt our Bed-Straw, to make Bone fire light;And went to Bed, that night, so merry heartedFor joy we and our Lodgings should be parted;Next morning we were up by break of day,To be in readinesse to march away.We bid adue to Hide Park’s fruitful Soil,And left the Country to divide the Spoyl.With flying Colours we the City enter,And, then, into our Quarters boldly venture.Our Land-Ladyes sayd Welcome (as was meet),But, for our Landlords, some lookt sowr, some sweet.So soon as we were got into warm Bed,We look’t as men new metamorphosed.But now I think ’tis best to let them sleep,Whilst I out of the Chamber softly creep,To let you know, that now my task is done,Would I had known as much when I begun.A sadder time, I freely dare engageWas never known before, in any Age.God bless King Charles and send him long to reign,And grant we never may know the like again.”

In connection with Hyde Park and the Restoration, I may mention the following, copied from The Times, December 18, 1862. “A Relic of the Past in Hyde Park. Perhaps few of the many who visit this Park are aware that on the right hand side of the Carriage drive, between the Receiving house and the Bridge, there still remains an interesting relic of the Stuart period. It is a tree, one of two planted by Charles II. from acorns taken from the Boscobel Oak, in Somersetshire, in which his father successfully sought refuge, and were planted here to commemorate the event. They have both been dead some years, and one, much decayed, was removed in 1854; the other, beautifully clothed with ivy, which gives it the appearance of life, still remains. In common with all the other old trees in the Park, it is protected by a fence of iron hurdles; but, surely, a relic like this deserves a handsome and appropriate railing, with a descriptive brass plate affixed, to point out to strangers this historical antiquity, now known only to local historians.”

If the traditional lore of the writer of the above is on a par with his historical knowledge (vide italics) this statement has not much value. Indeed, a correspondent in Notes and Queries (3s. iii. 96), referring to this paragraph, and speaking of the trees, says “the tradition really and truly connected with them is the fatal duel fought by the fifth Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton, in November, 1712.”

Hyde Park seems to have been first opened to the public about 1637, for in the dedication of James Shirley’s play of Hide Parke (published in that year) to the Right Hon. Henry, Earl of Holland, he says, “This Comedy in the title, is a part of your Lordship’s Command, which heretofore grac’d, and made happy by your smile, when it was presented, after a long silence, upon first opening of the Parke.” And it is from this contemporary play that we are able to learn somewhat of the Park itself. Nightingales and cuckoos abounded, and both are several times mentioned.

Mistress Caroll. Harke, Sir, the Nightingale, there’s better lucke Comming towards us.

Fairfield. When you are out breath

You will give over, and for better lucke,

I do beleeve the bird, for I can leave thee,

And not be in love with my owne torment.

M. Ca. How, sir?

Fa. I ha said, stay you and practise with the bird,

’Twas Philomel they say; and thou wert one,

I should new ravish thee.

…

Mistress Bonavent. I heard it yesterday warble so prettily.

Lacy. They say ’tis luckie, when it is the first

Bird that salutes our eare.

Bo. Doe you believe it?

Tryer. I am of his minde, and love a happy Augury.

La. Observe the first note alwayes

Cuckoo!

Is this the Nightingale?

And then also there were refreshments to be taken at the Keeper’s Lodge (sometimes called Price’s Lodge, from Gervase Price, a keeper), as we read in Hide Parke.

Rider. I wish your sillabub were nectar, Lady.

Mistress Bonavent. We thank you, sir, and here it comes already.

Enter Milkemaide.

Mistress Julietta. So, so, is it good milke?

Bon. Of a Red Cow.

Mistress Caroll. You talke as you inclin’d to a consumption. Is the wine good?

Pepys mentions this Lodge and its refreshments more than once. “June 3, 1668. To the Park, where much fine company and many fine ladies, and in so handsome a hackney I was, that I believe, Sir W. Coventry and others who looked on me, did take me to be in one of my own, which I was a little troubled for: so to the Lodge and drank a cup of new milk, and so home.” – “April 25, 1669. Abroad with my wife in the afternoon to the Park, where very much company, and the weather very pleasant. I carried my wife to the Lodge, the first time this year, and there, in our coach, eat a cheese cake and drank a tankard of milk.”

Not to know the Lodge was to show oneself of small account, as we see in a comedy called “The English Monsieur,” by the Hon. James Howard, son of the Earl of Berkshire, acted with much applause at the Theatre Royal, in 1674.

“Comely. Nay, ’tis no London female; she’s a thing that never saw Cheesecake, Tart, or Syllabub at the Lodge in Hyde Park.”

According to Thomas Brown, of Shifnall, the ladies also partook of refreshment in their coaches, for he says, – “See, says my Indian, what a Bevy of Gallant Ladies are in yonder Coaches; some are Singing, others Laughing, others Tickling one another, and all of them Toying and devouring Cheese Cakes, March-Pane, and China Oranges.”23 And this in the sober days of William and Mary!

About this time the name of “the Lodge” was generally dropped, and it was called the Cake House or Mince Pie House, until it was pulled down early middle of the century. It was situated nearly on the site of the present Receiving House of the Royal Humane Society, as is shown in a “Plan of Hyde Park, as it was in 1725. From a Plan of the Parish of St. George, Hanover Square, in the Vestry Room of that Parish.”24 It was made of timber and plaster, and must have had a very picturesque look when the accompanying illustration was taken in 1826. The other view of it, in 1804, shows its surroundings in the Park. “The Cake House” furnished the title of one of Charles Dibdin’s table entertainments, first performed in 1800.

Then too there were the Orange girls, whose vocation was not entirely confined to the theatres,

and who were chaffed by, and gave saucy answers to, the beaux. In a play by Thomas Southern (the author of Isabella and Oroonoko), published in 1693, called The Maid’s last Prayer, Or Any, rather than Fail, we find (p. 37) Lord and Lady Malapert discussing the propriety of visiting their country seat.

L. Mal. Well, well, there are a thousand innocent diversions.

La. Mal. What! Angling for Gudgeons, Bowls, and Ninepins?

L. Mal. More wholesome and diverting than always the dusty Mile Horse driving in Hide-Park.

La. Mal. O law! don’t profane Hide-Park: Is there anything so pleasant as to go there alone, and find fault with the Company? Why, there can’t a Horse or a Livery ’scape a Man, that has a mind to be witty. And then I sell bargains to the Orange Women.

CHAPTER IV

Foot and horse racing in the Park – Prize fighting – Duelling – The duel between Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton.

Then, also, there were races run in the Park, both horse, coach and foot. In Shirley’s Hide Parke we read, —

L. Bonavent. Be there any races here?

Mr. Lacy. Yes, Sir, horse and foot.

…

Mistress Bon. Prethee, sweetheart, who runnes?

La. An Irish and an English footeman!

M. Bon. Will they runne this way?

La. Just before you, I must have a bet!

[Exit.

M. Bon. Nay, nay, you shall not leave me.

Mistress Carroll. Do it discreetely, I must speak to him,

To ease my heart. I shall burst else.

Weele expect ’em here, Cousen, do they runne naked?

M. Bon. That were a most immodest sight.

M. Ca. Here have bin such fellowes, Cousen.

M. Bon. It would fright the women!

M. Ca. Some are of opinion it brings us hither.

Harke what a confusion of tongues there is.

Let you and I venture a paire of Gloves

Upon their feete; I’le take the Irish.

M. Bon. ’Tis done, but you shall pay if you lose.

M. Ca. Here’s my hand, you shall have the Gloves if you winne.

M. Bon. I thinke they are started.

The Runners, after them the Gentlemen

Omnes. A Teag, A Teag, make way for shame.

La. I hold any man forty peeces yet.

Venture. A hundred pound to ten! a hundred peeces to ten!

Will no man take me?

M. Bon. I hold you, Sir.

Ven. Well, you shall see. A Teag! a Teag! hey!

Tryer. Ha! Well run, Irish!

Bon. He may be in a Bogge anon.

[Exeunt.

The horse race is thus described.

Enter Jockey and Gentleman

I. What dost thinke, Jockey?