Hyde Park from Domesday-book to Date

CHAPTER XIX.

On Sunday, July 19, 1868, there was a demonstration in the Park against the Irish Church: then there was one in favour of the Fenians in Oct., 1869. But it is not worth chronicling all the meetings that have taken place since the time when the Commissioners of Works settled upon the place of public meetings, and the routine necessary before they were held.

Times, Oct. 15, 1872: “The Commissioners of Works have caused to be erected in Hyde Park, at exactly 150 yards distance from the so-called ‘Reformers’ Tree,’[52] a granite pedestal and iron standard, surmounted by a board, to mark the spot where it shall be lawful (and there only) to hold public meetings, and inscribed with the following announcement: ‘The Notice Board respecting Public Addresses.—No public address may be delivered except within 40 yards of the notice board on which this rule is inscribed.’ The rule is to the following effect, and in addition, posted at all the entrances to the Park: ‘No public address may be delivered unless a written notice of the intention to deliver the same, signed with the names and addresses of two householders residing in the metropolis, be left at the offices of Her Majesty’s Works and Public Buildings, at least two clear days before: such notice must state the day and hour of intended delivery. After such notice has been received, no other notice for the delivery of an address on the same day will be valid.’ ”

Because the concession had been made, of course it was forthwith to be set at nought—by a Fenian Demonstration. The following is the commencement of an account of the meeting in The Standard of Nov. 4, 1872.

“The late Mr. O’Connell was in the habit of boasting that he could drive a coach-and-four through an Act of Parliament. The sympathizers with political discontent, or disturbance rather, in London, transcended the rhetorical flourish of the agitator, par excellence, yesterday. They had been bragging at Convention for some time past that they would hold a meeting in Hyde Park, ‘the people’s Park,’ in the teeth of Mr. Ayrton and the Parks Regulation Bill,[53] and yesterday they carried out their threat. The day was the day consecrated to God’s worship, but these disciples of ‘the revolution’ held their demonstration all the same, evidently acting on the principle of the proverb ‘the better the day, the better the deed.’ The object of the gathering was to seek for the amnesty of the political prisoners (by political prisoners being understood sundry soldiers who had forsworn their allegiance to join a conspiracy against the Queen’s Government, and the lives of their own comrades), and various other culprits who, under the pretence of patriotism, had transgressed the laws that regulate the order of the community by acts of violence.”

This led to twelve of the speakers being summoned to Marlborough Street Police Court, and one of them, a man named Bailey, was tried before the magistrate as a test of the whole, on Nov. 19, and fined 5l. or a month’s imprisonment, but it was agreed that a case should be stated, and taken to a higher Court, the other summonses being adjourned sine die. The Appeal came on at the Queen’s Bench, on Jan. 23, 1873, before three judges, who all concurred in affirming the conviction. The Treasury, to the very great disgust of the Fenian sympathizers, presented them with a bill of costs for 100l., but I do not know whether it was ever paid.

The effect of licensing public meetings in Hyde Park has been to turn that place into a bear-garden on most Sundays during fine weather, and one-sided meetings, more or less orderly, have been held on almost every subject, social and political. Is there a strike, the strikers must needs go and bellow their grievances—be they cabmen, laundresses, bakers, or unemployed. What good they think can accrue from it, they themselves cannot answer. As to the Trades’ Unions who go there periodically, I fancy very few would go were it not to show their regalia, air their banners, and march to the sound of a brass band; while of late years it has become to very many a Sunday picnic, to which they and their wives go in brakes. Nay, sometimes they meddle with things wholly out of their sphere; as, for instance, the demonstration on the Eastern Question on Feb. 24, 1878, at which the following handbill was distributed:—

“Russian Meeting in Hyde Park:—Englishmen! A last attempt is to be made by the baffled agents of Russia, on Sunday, Feb. 24 (to-day), to corrupt and undermine the patriotism of our countrymen. Do you wish Count Schouvaloff to telegraph to the Czar that any meeting of Englishmen have passed resolutions in favour of the policy of the most despotic and cruel Power in Europe, a Power that deliberately crushes all ‘national freedom’ with the iron heel of military force, and shuts out British industry from all her territories? Any resolution passed at their meeting will be a direct encouragement to Russia. Nothing but a vigorous and determined policy will prevent war, which the Russian party, if successful, will inevitably bring about, as they brought about the Crimean War, in 1853.”

While Mr. Auberon Herbert was speaking, The Times says that “A rush was made by a number of well-dressed young men on the south-east, at the same time that a huge column, with banners spread, was advancing from the north-east. It was easy to see that the ‘specials’ in the ring had had no military training, for some left the part which needed the most strength to repel the attack made by the young men. The chairman and the clergyman disappeared, and the Peace party then stood ready to greet the on-coming column. Mr. Bradlaugh had a special constable’s staff in his hand; and, parleying with the head of the column, demanded that their flags should be put down. Each of the men who had composed the circle brought out a constable’s staff. The platform was, meanwhile, left in the possession of one person. The Peace party tore down the Turkish and Polish banners from the poles, and thereupon the anti-Russian party made a rush to, and broke up the platform.

“The mélée now became almost general, for all classes of persons had got mixed up together, and in the struggle of those who wanted to pass out of harm’s way, an extraordinary scene was presented. There must have been 60,000 or 70,000 people, but only a very small number was inclined to take active part in the proceedings. The fight, which was more noisy than hurtful, did not occupy much time. One or two men climbed small trees, where they took up the remains of the Turkish flag, and displayed it upon the leafless branches. It was draped too low, however, and was seized and lost. One of the events of the day was a regular fight in a tree, between two well-matched antagonists. The fight was witnessed by the whole crowd, some of whom took it upon themselves to dislodge the fellows from the trees, by pelting them with heavy sticks and stones.”

But public meetings were not the only nuisance occasioned by throwing open the Park. It at once became a place for every shade of religious and secular doctrine to be preached; and the first notice I can find of these practices is in a letter in The Times of Nov. 27, 1872.

“The public are not aware of what occurs on Sundays in Hyde Park. Here is what I have seen.

“A man dressed as a clergyman was standing on a seat near the Serpentine, and preaching to a few listeners, a very sensible sermon. A policeman advanced and told him, ‘This is not allowed.’ The preacher at once discontinued. Scene the second. A considerable crowd near what is called the Reformers’ Tree: three men, dressed in cassocks and caps, preaching such terrible blasphemy that I quite shuddered to hear it, our Saviour’s name and His words being travestied in the most awful and obscene manner. The policeman there stood outside the crowd, but made no attempt to interfere.”

Are things better now? Let anyone go and see for himself; or, if that is inconvenient or impossible, let him read these two recent newspaper cuttings (Globe, April 16, 1894):—

“Disorderly Scene in Hyde Park.

“Yesterday afternoon a disorderly scene took place in Hyde Park. Two persons who were endeavouring to hold a religious meeting near the Serpentine, were surrounded by a crowd of men and boys, and, owing to some peculiarity, were frequently interrupted and prevented from proceeding with the service they were attempting to conduct. Finally, the opposition became so demonstrative that the two men were compelled to beat a retreat, a small banner they had with them being torn. Their hats were knocked off, and they were otherwise subjected to considerable hustling and ill-usage. Some disorder also occurred at a meeting which was being held close by. Scenes of this character have recently become very common in the Park.”

“The Bishop of Hyde Park.

“At the Marlborough Street Police Court, John Mullane, thirty-seven, labourer, Circus Street, Marylebone; John Hayes, twenty-three, painter, John Street, Marylebone; and John Henlay, thirty, labourer, Carlisle Street, Marylebone; were charged with fighting together in Hyde Park. A police sergeant said that on Sunday evening, a man named Scully was addressing a meeting in Hyde Park, close to the Marble Arch. Presently, the three prisoners began to fight with each other, apparently over some argument with Scully. To prevent further disturbance, he obtained assistance, and took the men into custody.

“In defence, Mullane said he was listening to Scully, and noticed that he had a bottle in his pocket. Scully said it was water, but Hayes smelt it, and said it was gin. Then Scully knocked him (Hayes) down. He (Mullane) then struck Scully, when Henlay came up and struck him (Mullane) and knocked him down. Henlay said that he was standing behind Scully, when Hayes took the bottle out of his (Scully’s) pocket, struck Scully, and threw him on the top of him (Henlay). Peter Scully deposed that he lived in Stanhope Street, Deptford, and got a living by selling ‘good’ books. He had been in the habit of lecturing in Hyde Park, in favour of religion, for the last twelve years. While he was speaking on Sunday night, a bottle of water was pulled away from him, his hand was cut, and his chair was pulled from under him. People called him the ‘Bishop’ of Hyde Park, because he had such large audiences. He saw two young fellows struck.

“Mr. Newton: ‘You see all these disturbances are caused by your preaching.’—Scully: ‘I cannot help that.’—Mr. Newton: ‘Yes, you can, because you need not preach there.’—Scully: ‘Many other persons speak there as well as myself, and if I should stop speaking there, the other speakers should do the same.’—Mr. Newton: ‘I think it would be a good thing if all of them were stopped. If there were no speakers in the Park, there would be no fights.’—Scully: ‘I should not mind if speaking in the Park were stopped, for I can always get an audience, and could address meetings elsewhere.’—Mr. Newton (addressing the defendants) said, they ‘should not misbehave themselves in the Park,’ and ordered them to enter into their own recognizances to be of good behaviour in the future.”—Daily Graphic, May 1st, 1894.

Here, also, in the Park, men’s minds are poisoned by the doctrines of Socialist and Anarchist; but the latter, at present, is somewhat out of favour with King [Greek: dêmos]—probably on account of the Anarchist predilection for bombs, against which even his majesty is not proof. Here is an account from the Daily Graphic of last

“May Day in Hyde Park.

“The May Day celebration in London has been marked by one of the most extraordinary scenes ever witnessed in Hyde Park. The occasion was a demonstration organized by the Social Democratic Federation to unite with the demonstrations on the Continent in making the first of May Labour Day. There was, of course, a procession, which formed up on the Embankment, and was about as imposing as that which follows a drunken man to the police-station.

“There was the difference that it had a few waggonettes and greengrocers’ carts to lengthen it out. Some of the waggonettes and the greengrocers’ carts were arched in with green branches, and the drivers wore red caps of the sort usually associated with burlesque. They were understood to represent ‘caps of liberty.’ A few bakers’ carts displayed specimens of French loaves and horseshoe rolls. In some of the carts were children who sang the ‘Marseillaise,’ as the carts trailed through Piccadilly. Girls of an older growth had donned white dresses trimmed with a virulent red, and marshalled the younger ones. Mr. Keir Hardie, with his tweed cap and his pipe, walked through the crowd like one who expected the homage due to a hero. Mr. William Morris was also there, but one could not help thinking that he was, and felt, out of place. There were speeches, of course. These were laudatory, for the most part, of the workers and the Social Democratic Federation.

“But the Anarchists had, somehow, recovered their spirits, and had ventured to join in the procession. Agnes Henry, in her inevitable yellow ulster and cloth shoes, plodded indefatigably on the outskirts of the crowd. Louise Michel hovered here and there. They had their flags—red with black fringes—with them. One was an imposing banner on two poles, with an appeal to put down all government and authority. The Anarchists took up their position as side shows to the main demonstration. The crowd had paid no attention to the Social Democrats, but the Anarchists drew them like a magnet. A man, named Leggatt, a well known anarchist, declaimed from one platform; a succession of speakers, including Louise Michel, Mowbray, Dr Macdonald, and others, from another, which was intended to be more important. Sullivan, of Tower Hill fame, had a little show of his own. There was an evident desire to listen to the Anarchists patiently at first. Then the listeners had their feelings jarred by some outrageous exposition of the doctrine of explosives. They groaned and hooted. Leggatt, with clumsy retort, said they should be at a Board School, or playing marbles. So far as he was concerned, the result was disastrous. There was a spring at him, and he swayed for a moment on his perch, and then came down full length, while his platform was soon in little bits. The police, who had been observing the ugly temper of the crowd, rushed in, just in time to save him from worse injury. The banner was promptly in ribbons, and its pole was broken up. On this the people at the other platform discreetly folded their banner, and took it away.

“They would have done as well to have taken themselves away also. One man, whose vanity shall not be gratified by having his name mentioned here, said the police were keeping down the workers. ‘You will never be free while you have such men as Melville.’[54] He was answered with a cheer for the police, and, in a second more, was in the hands of the crowd. There were cries of ‘In the Serp. with him,’ and again Chief-Inspector Peters and his men had to rush in to save the demonstrators from the consequences of their own folly. A red tie became a dangerous article of adornment—there were threats to lynch the wearers. It was now becoming more and more difficult to keep the crowd in hand. Big as the A.R. division men are, they could hardly force their way through the dense masses.

“Never has there been such a scene in the Park. Racing across it came the hunted Anarchists, surrounded by a yelling, fist-using crowd, with the police protecting, as well as they could, the objects of the public wrath. At the Marble Arch, the police formed a cordon across the gates and closed all passage, and it was then only that the Anarchists, bleeding and bruised, were able to get into cabs and be driven to safety.”

Any one would have thought that this lesson would have lasted them some time, but it was not so. On the first Sunday in the month (6th May) the annual demonstration in favour of a “Legal Eight Hours Day” took place in Hyde Park; and, although the Anarchists had nothing whatever to do with the meeting, yet the irrepressibles were there, and succeeded in marching to their usual speaking-place near the Reformers’ Tree; but their reception by the sympathizers with the demonstration was of so hostile a character, that before the head of the procession arrived, they were hunted out of the Park, and, but for the protection afforded by the police, several would have been severely handled.

Perhaps the greatest fiasco of any of these meetings was one held Aug. 26th, 1894, with a view of abolishing the House of Lords. There were comparatively few people, the procession being made up of banners and bands.

CHAPTER XX.

The Children’s Fête in Hyde Park, 1887.

As a refreshing set-off to the mouthings of mobs in Hyde Park, let us turn to the prettiest and pleasantest sight that the Park ever beheld, namely, the Children’s Fête in Hyde Park, on June 22, 1887, in commemoration of the Queen’s Jubilee, the following account of which is taken from The Times of June 23:—

“Hyde Park yesterday was the scene both of festivity and ceremonial, the children being the happy mortals who were especially privileged to take part in the former, and witness the latter. It was a kind thought that prompted the organization of a monster treat for the boys and girls of the poorer classes in this season of general jubilation, and equally kind was the interest at once taken in the matter by the heads of our Royal house. It would be hard to conceive any form of enjoyment more calculated to impress upon youthful minds the exceptional circumstances of the present week, than yesterday’s fête. Even if it had not been graced with the presence of her Majesty, and of the members of her family, the occasion would, probably, never have slipped from the memory of any child who shared in the day’s amusements; but, as the little ones were not only entertained on a scale which must have surprised the most imaginative of them, but were actually honoured by a special visit from the Sovereign herself, it is, indeed, likely to remain for ever indelibly fixed on their minds. To Mr. E. Lawson,[55] who originated the idea which was realized yesterday, the children owe a debt of gratitude. Thanks are also due from them to the many donors who supplied the funds required to defray the costs of the fête. First among these were the proprietors of The Daily Telegraph, who headed the list of subscriptions with a very large sum,[56] and undertook the collection of subscriptions, and the general management of the festival. To the Committee of Organization also the gratitude of the children ought to extend. The task of arranging for their safety, and providing for their wants, involved no slight amount of forethought and care, and was fulfilled with a conscientiousness which deserved and commanded success.

“The portion of the Park which was the scene of the festivity was that which is seldom visited by any large concourse of civilians, except for the purpose of expressing dissatisfaction with the laws, or the system of government. On this occasion, however, the Reformers’ Tree was forgotten, and nothing but expressions of satisfaction were heard. The playground of the children extended from the drive, on the north of the Serpentine, to the north of the Park: it was bounded on the east by the trees which shadow the roadway leading to the Marble Arch, and its breadth westward was about a quarter of a mile. On this level expanse, about 26,000 children disported themselves from noon till dewy eve. All were in the highest spirits, and all behaved as well as the best friends could wish. The amusements provided were multifarious and varied, and supplemented by impromptu additions, such as racing and dancing, which gave scope for physical exercise. The day was lovely, and not oppressively hot. With such conditions, what wonder that the children enjoyed themselves!

“The duty of selecting them—for, of course, they were but representative of their class—had been performed under the supervision of Mr. J. Diggle, chairman of the London School Board. The selection had been made among the Board Schools and Voluntary Schools of the metropolis, and that it had been made with care was evident. The children were all spruce and clean, and in many cases attired with unostentatious taste. The dresses of many of the girls were simple white, the sashes which bound them being blue or yellow. The prognostications of ill fortune, which had come from some quarters, were wholly unfulfilled, no greater mishap occurring to any child than a temporary indisposition brought on by heat and excitement. More than one case of this kind occurred, but the possibility that medical aid might be required in the course of the day had been provided for, and the little patients were not left long unsoothed and unrelieved. That any child, however young, should be lost, with so many friends at hand ready to aid, was scarcely within the bounds of probability, but in case of emergency a special tent had been erected for the reception of stragglers who might be unable to give any lucid description of the direction in which they wished to go. The difficulties which straying children might otherwise have caused were also obviated by the simple expedient of requiring each boy and girl to wear a ticket bearing the name of the holder, and the number of the tent allotted to his or her school. The watchful interest extended to their charges by the teachers who accompanied the small folk, was almost in itself sufficient to reassure the most nervous of mothers.

“The playground was surrounded with Venetian masts, erected at short distances from one another. Near the Achilles statue there were clusters of these masts. A gilt crown shone at the top of each, and between them hung a banner of plush velvet, exhibiting, in gold letters, the following fervent wish for the Queen’s welfare:—

“Though the children were not expected till nearly 1 o’clock, several members of the Committee were on the ground long before this, completing the necessary arrangements. Little, however, remained to be done; and when the guests of the day did arrive, everything was in perfect readiness. About 9 o’clock the police, whom, to the number of over 3000, Sir Charles Warren[57] had detailed for different duties in connection with the fête, commenced operations by clearing the enclosed ground of all unauthorized persons. During the day admission was strictly confined to those armed with invitation tickets, the issue of which had been by no means lavish, so that adults present bore but a very small proportion to the juveniles. The general public, numbering many thousands, took up positions upon the outskirts of the reserved space, which was, at points of the greatest pressure, fenced in with iron hurdles, to prevent the encroachments of the crowd. Among those who, in this somewhat disadvantageous position, patiently waited several hours were very many of the children’s parents, and these can have obtained only a passing glimpse of the Queen, and but a distant view of the doings with the privileged circle.

“About 11 o’clock, a squadron of the 2nd Life Guards, and 200 men of the Foot Guards, arrived to assist in keeping the ground, and, later in the day, these were reinforced by two more troops of the 2nd Life Guards, to keep the roadway clear for the Queen. The presence of the military added greatly to the brightness of the scene. Soon after 1 o’clock all the children had safely passed into the Park, and reached their allotted playground. About 13,000, belonging to schools on the south side of London, assembled in St. James’s Park at 12 o’clock; and, having been marshalled by some 30 sergeants from Wellington Barracks, marched off, four abreast, headed by Mr. Bennet Burleigh, and Mr. J. T. Helby, of the London School Board. Proceeding past Buckingham Palace and up Constitution Hill, they entered Hyde Park by the Grosvenor Gate, and reached their destination, without mishap, and in capital order. A column almost as large, consisting of children from the northern districts of London, assembled in Regent’s Park soon after 11 o’clock, and were put in position by Mr. Howard Vincent, M.P., Mr. H. Lawson, M.P., Capt. E. Brodie, and Mr. W. Sheffield (drill instructor to the London School Board). This column also reached the Park in good time, and in good order. Smaller contingents that had assembled, the one in Battersea Park and the other in Kensington Gardens, also arrived.

“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.

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 Esq^re, 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.”

Take, again, a short letter in The Times of March 15th, 1855: “Allow me, through your columns, to caution the frequenters of Hyde Park against a gang of ruffians, who are in the habit of accosting ladies and female servants, and, under the pretence of asking the time of day, endeavouring to pick their pockets. Several ladies of my acquaintance, when walking in the Park with their children, have had narrow escapes of being robbed in this manner.”

In The Times of July 1st, 1858, a Resident near Hyde Park writes that “it is perfectly notorious that in all of our parks, but most especially in Hyde Park, it is impolitic, in the highest degree, for young girls to take exercise unattended. I, for one, have been obliged to prohibit my daughter, aged 13 years, from taking her hitherto pleasant morning walks, in company with her little brother, for precisely the same reason as a thousand other parents could assign—namely, because of the hoary-headed ruffians, dressed in the garb of gentlemen, who systematically lay in wait for young girls, with an intent too horrible for mention.”

Here is a sketch of the Park, in the Pall Mall Gazette of May 21, 1866, endorsed by being copied into The Times, May 22nd:—

“The Police of Hyde Park.

“Urgent remonstrances have recently been made to the Chief Commissioner of Works, from various quarters, and, more especially, by the parochial authorities of St. George’s, Hanover Square, against the misrule and vice which is allowed by the Ranger of Hyde Park to prevail unchecked within its precincts after the Park is closed at night. The gates are then locked, the park-keepers go to their homes, the lodge-keepers go to bed, and the Park is utterly given up to hoards of tramps and roughs of both sexes, who, during the summer months, pass their nights there. Any decent persons caught in crossing the Park at the hour for locking up, have no choice but to remain prisoners until the morning, if they are not sufficiently active to climb the iron railings; for it is a point of professional honour with the lodge-keepers, to resist all attempts at rousing them after they have once turned in. A number of prostitutes, too, of the very lowest grade, ply, unmolested, in the Park, their dismal calling, spreading around them disease, until they are themselves stricken down by it, and perish in the neighbouring workhouses.

“And it is this wretched fact that has, at last, set the authorities of St. George’s Parish in action. It is now required that the incompetent and useless park-keepers, to whose care the Park has hitherto been intrusted, shall be superseded, and that they shall be replaced by the Metropolitan Police, who shall supervise and patrol its area by night, as well as by day; that policemen shall be on duty all night, at all its gates, to let out persons who may have been accidentally shut in; and that two or three of the mounted police shall be stationed in Rotten Row, between the hours of 12 and 2 p.m. and of 5 and 8 p.m., to keep in check the galloping snobs, grooms and horsebreakers of both sexes, by whose reckless brutality the lives and limbs of her Majesty’s lieges are daily endangered. To effect this reform, mere management, not money, is wanted.

“The discreditable condition in which the police of Hyde Park now is, distinctly indicates want of ability or attention on the part of its Ranger; and the costly landscape and flower gardening, so extensively and successfully carried out by Mr. Cowper, as clearly shows that that condition is owing to no lack of funds. It is of far more importance to the inhabitants of the West End of London, that the Park to which they and their families resort should be orderly, cleanly and well watched, than that it should be picturesque and gay with flowers: and, in the case of Hyde Park, there seems to be no reason why its police should not be as effective as its horticulture.”

It would almost seem as if everyone was doing their utmost to spoil the Park, and divert it from its assumed purpose of reasonable recreation; for, at one time, the betting men got hold of it, and made it the scene of their unhealthy calling, vide a letter in The Times of June 1, 1866:—“I have frequently occasion to cross Hyde Park between the hours of 12 and 1, and I have watched with surprise the operations of a numerous betting ring, the members of which hold daily undisturbed possession of a large group of trees in the centre of the Park. It is becoming so popular a resort of servants, that I was not astonished, last week, to hear of a footman, when applying for a situation, stipulating for a mid-day walk in the Park. Yesterday, I saw one of the park-keepers apparently busily engaged in the ring.” And this letter was fully endorsed in another which appeared in next day’s Times.

If betting were allowed, why not other forms of gambling? So we find that on June 25, 1866, at Marlborough Street, Thomas Davids, who is described as being “well-dressed,” was charged with setting up a roulette table in Hyde Park. Inspector Green, of the A Division, said he was in Hyde Park on June 23rd about six o’clock, when he saw the prisoner with a roulette table, and a large number of persons round him. The prisoner was playing, and on seeing him take up some money from the board, he seized him, and charged him with gambling. The prisoner admitted that he was playing at roulette, but he was not aware it was illegal. He found £1 10s. in gold and £1 12s. in silver in his possession. The prisoner’s father was a respectable person. The prisoner, in defence, said that he was in such a novel position that he hardly knew what to say. Mr. Tyrwhitt said everybody must know that gambling in the parks was not permitted. He considered the prisoner’s conduct most mischievous in robbing persons of their money, for it was well known that the chances in favour of the keeper of the gaming-table were 100 per cent. Davids was fined 40s. and costs.

It is impossible to chronicle all the scandals of the Park, we may think they belong to a past age, and that Board Schools and their enlightening influences, and with the “sweetness and light” they should have brought with them, have for ever banished evil from it, but I will only give two modern instances, and I have done with this portion of its history. First take a letter in The Times of Dec. 26, 1891, in which the writer says: “It is impossible for any respectable woman, after dark, to pass through even from the Marble Arch to Hyde Park Corner, without being insulted by men, or groups of low women. For young people who have to come from the other side to work, there is no alternative for them, on their return home at night, but to walk right round; as after dark no respectable girl could pass through, unaccompanied, without molestation.”

And, last of all, because I have not chronicled one out of the hundreds of atrocities committed by soldiers in the Park—assaults, robberies, vile accusations, etc.-I will give a very mild and recent case reported in the Daily Graphic, May 22nd, 1894:—

“Violent Guardsmen.

“At the Marlborough Street Police Court, Augustus Fitzgerald, 24, and Frank Burton, 24, privates in the 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards, were charged with being drunk and disorderly, and using obscene language in Hyde Park, and Fitzgerald was also charged with assaulting Police-Sergeant Cooke, and Burton with assaulting two constables in the execution of their duty. Sergeant Cooke stated that about 12 o’clock on Saturday night, he was on duty near the Marble Arch. A gentleman complained to him that the prisoners had pushed him and his wife, and also used very bad language. Both prisoners then attempted to get at the gentleman, and used very bad language. The sergeant advised them to go quietly to barracks. Fitzgerald tried to get Burton to go, but he would not, and the officers had to take him into custody. Fitzgerald then struck the sergeant on the face, cutting his cheek. A constable then took Burton, and the sergeant, Fitzgerald. The latter then kicked his captor on the knee. The officers blew their whistles, and assistance arrived. While the sergeant was struggling with Fitzgerald, Burton came up and kicked him, making his leg black and blue. Fitzgerald went quietly to the station, but Burton continued to struggle so violently that the ambulance was sent for, and then it took seven constables to get him on it. The prisoners used most disgusting language to the officer who took the charge, and when in the cells, kicked the doors till they loosened the frames. The constable who was on duty with Sergeant Cooke corroborated his statement, and said that Fitzgerald kicked him in the lower part of the abdomen. Both officers are now on the sick list. Fitzgerald said, if he struck the sergeant, it was a pure accident. Burton asserted that the constables shoved them about, and prevented them leaving the park by the nearest gate. An officer present gave Fitzgerald a bad character, and Burton a fairly good one. Mr. Hannay sentenced them to one month’s hard labour each.”

“Exciting Scene in Hyde Park.

“Last night[58] an extraordinary and violent scene (a correspondent writes) took place in Hyde Park. In the evening the park is now frequented by large crowds of people, who listen to speeches, recitations, &c., delivered near the Marble Arch, and considerable hostility has, it appears, been aroused by the action of some soldiers in persistently creating a disturbance among the crowd, with the object of breaking up any meeting that may be held. Last night, while a small knot of people were listening to a reciter, four soldiers, whose movements had hitherto been unobserved, suddenly ran in, and without giving any warning flung themselves with great force on those on the outside of the crowd. A struggle at once ensued, and before many moments had elapsed the soldiers found themselves surrounded by an infuriated crowd of some 300 persons, who pelted them with hands full of pebbles picked up from the ground, and, at the same time, indulged freely in hooting. The soldiers struck out vigorously to right and left with their canes, retiring close together, and for some time managed to keep the crowd at a respectful distance. One of them, however, being struck suddenly in the face with a missile, drew his bayonet, and breaking away from his comrades, furiously charged the crowd. Immediately a general stampede took place, but though the enraged soldier speedily gave up the pursuit, it was some minutes before he sheathed his weapon. No sooner had he done so than the crowd again returned, and forming round the troopers, recommenced booing and hooting, though at a longer distance than before. By this time, however, notification of the occurrence had been conveyed to the police, and they coming up, were able, though not without difficulty, to get the soldiers out of the park without further violence from the mob. No one, fortunately, was seriously injured, but both the soldiers and some civilians had their faces cut.”—Globe, March 26, 1895.