Hyde Park has several springs of water, one of which was said to have been slightly mineral. The one shown in this illustration still exists, and the author of “The Morning Walk” thus eulogizes one:—

Some of these springs were utilized for the supply of water outside the Park—but the larger quantity came from the Westbourne. Still, in 1620, the Dean and Chapter of Westminster had permission given them to use the water of four springs in Hyde Park for their benefit, and letters patent were granted to “Thomas Day, Gent. of Chelsea, to enable him to take the water from Hyde Park to the City of Westminster.” This, I take it, meant to utilize the Westbourne, as the Dean and Chapter had the springs: but both their privileges were annulled by the King’s Bench, as it was alleged that the ponds in the Park were, by these means, so drained that there was not enough water left for the wants of the King’s deer.

In the time of James I. there were eleven pools in the Park, and a glance at Roque’s map of 1747 will show that many were then still remaining; indeed, in the accompanying illustration of the Bathing House in 1794, we see a horse drinking at one of them. By this, we see that horses were turned out to grass in the Park. In 1751, grooms used to exercise their horses there, as did also a riding master named Faubert.

From the heights of Hampstead spring several small streams, such as the Fleet, the Brent, and the West Bourne, probably so called to distinguish it from St. Mary le bourne, which was further east. Roque’s map shows its position with regard to the Serpentine, but, before that misnamed lake was made, it ran right through the Park from north to south, leaving the Park about Albert Gate, where was a bridge, from which Knightsbridge takes its name. Then it flowed by what are now William Street, Lowndes Square, and Chesham Street, falling into the Thames near Ranelagh.

Queen Caroline, wife to George II., conceived the idea of utilizing this little stream, and making it into a lake, and, as it was supposed that she was

expending her own money on this work, no objection was raised to her so doing, but it is said that at her death she left the King to pay a sum of no less than £20,000 on account of it. We learn when it was commenced from Read’s Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer, Saturday, September 26th, 1730. “Next Monday, they begin upon the Serpentine River, and Royal Mansion in Hide-Park: Mr. Ripley is to build the House, and Mr. Jepherson to make the River under the Directions of Charles Withers, Esq^re.” This latter gentleman, who was Surveyor General of Woods and Forests, died shortly before the Serpentine was finished, probably in 1733, when his successor was appointed; and in May, 1731, it was deep enough, in part, to allow two small yachts upon it. Its cost was estimated at £6000—but a portion of that (£2500) had to go as compensation to the Chelsea Water Works Company, who held a 99 years’ lease, granted to one Thomas Haines, in 1663, whereby, on annual payment of 6s. 8d., he had command of all the springs and conduits in the Park.

The water supply for the Serpentine came from the Westbourne, until, in the course of time, owing to the extension of building, the houses around draining into it, its water became too foul for the purpose, and, in 1834, it was cut off, and connected with the sewer in the Bayswater Road; and the supply thus lost is made good by the Chelsea Water Works, who pump in water at the Kensington Gardens end, and the overflow at the very pretty Dell forms a striking feature in the landscape gardening of the Park. Formerly, as we see in Roque’s map, the overflow was conducted into a pool, which was bridged over by the King’s Old Road.

The Serpentine was not utilized for any purpose until August 1st, 1814, when a national rejoicing called “The Jubilee” was held in the Park, to celebrate the conclusion of peace with France, and the celebration of the centenary of the accession of George I. There were to be illuminations, fireworks, and balloon ascents in St. James’s and the Green Parks, and in Hyde Park a fair, and a “Naumachia,” or sea-fight, which was somewhat appropriate, as the famous Battle of the Nile was fought on August 1st, 1798.

The mimic three-deckers and frigates were necessarily small, and they were made out of ships’ barges at Woolwich, and great was the chaff made about this “liliputian navy.” Here are some skits thereon:—

Or take the two following distiches:—

In contemporary accounts, the “Naumachia” was generally very summarily dismissed, and the following is, perhaps, one of the best of them.

“Between eight and nine o’clock, the Grand Sea Fight took place on the Serpentine River, where ships of the line, in miniature, manoeuvred and engaged, and the Battle of the Nile was represented in little. Of this mock naval engagement on the great Serpentine Ocean, it would be extremely difficult to give any adequate description. It is, perhaps, sufficient to observe that it was about on a par with spectacles of a similar nature, which have been frequently exhibited at the Theatres.... We were as heartily glad when the cockle-shell fight was over, as we had been tired of waiting for it. We were afraid, at one time, whether it would have neither beginning nor end. Indeed, there had been a wretched skirmish between four and five in the afternoon, between an American and an English frigate,[33] at the conclusion of which, the English colours were triumphantly hoisted on the rebel Yankee.... At a signal given, the fireworks in the Green Park were let off, and four of the little fleet in the Serpentine were set on fire. The Swans screamed, and fluttered round the affrighted lake.”

Such an opportunity for his satirical pen could not be missed by C. F. Lawler, the then pseudo Peter Pindar, and he wrote thereon: “Liliputian Navy!!! The R——t’s Fleet, or John Bull at the Serpentine.”—“The P——e’s Jubilee.” “The R——l Showman.” “The R——l Fair, or Grande Galante Show.” And, on the sale of the Temple of Concord, which had been erected in the Green Park: “The Temple knock’d down: or R——l Auction. The last lay of the Jubilee.” They are mostly scurrilous and spiteful, but from the first of them I take the following:—

There was another satirical poem on this Naumachia, entitled “An Extraordinary Gazette, containing dispatches from Admiral Squib, giving a detailed account of A Great Naval Victory obtained over the combined fleets of France and America, in the Great Serpentine Sea, on the 1st August, 1814,”—a small portion of which I transcribe.

The accompanying illustration is from a satirical

print by George Cruikshank, re the Jubilee, called “The Modern Don Quixote, or the Fire King.”

There were pictorial caricatures of this Naumachia, of course, but, judging from two contemporary prints of it in the Crace collection (Port. ix. 96, 97), in the British Museum, it must have been a very pretty sight, only, naturally, on a very small scale.

Another attraction in Hyde Park, at this Jubilee, was a fair, with its shows by Richardson, Reede, Saunders, and Gingel;—also Polito’s wild beasts were on exhibition. There were drinking booths, with taking signs, such as “The Duke of Wellington,” “The Vetteran Prince Blucher,” “The Prince Regent,” etc.; dancing, singing and refreshment booths, and—being warm weather—eating and drinking could be indulged in in the open air. This fair was kept up after the Jubilee with the additional attractions of E.O. tables—black and white cocks—dice tables, and a game with dice called under and over seven: nor did the police even make a show of stopping this gambling. There were donkey racing, jumping in sacks, running for smocks, etc., and there were printing presses, where, on payment, people had the privilege of themselves pulling off a typographical souvenir of the fair. Nay, it was even contemplated to print a Jubilee Fair Journal.

It was anticipated that this fair would last until the 12th, and so it possibly might have done, had it been conducted with anything like decency and order; but, as these were conspicuously absent, Lord Sidmouth, Secretary of State for the Home Department, ordered it to be closed on the night of Saturday the 6th. This order the booth keepers petitioned against, on the plea that, on the strength of its being open for a longer time, they had laid in a large stock of provisions, liquor, toys, etc., which would be thrown upon their hands. Lord Sidmouth’s order not being enforced, they kept on, so that it was found necessary to issue another—which was acted on—and the fair came to an end on the night of the 11th.

A contemporary newspaper, speaking of it, says: “Never, within the memory of man, has there been witnessed such scenes of drunkenness and dissipation as these fooleries have given rise to, and the misery they have brought upon thousands is extreme. A report from the pawnbrokers would be an awful lesson to governments, how they encourage such riot. Since the delirium, from the example of the highest quarter, began, the pawnbrokers have more than trebled their businesses; clothes, furniture, and, worst of all, tools, have been sacrificed for the sake of momentary enjoyment; industry of every kind has been interrupted, and many hundreds of starving families will long have to remember the Æra of the Park FÊtes.”

A notice of this Jubilee may well close with an “Epigram on the P—— R——’s expressing a wish for the continuance of the Fair in Hyde Park.