4. THE REGENT'S PARK. The Regent's Park lies at the south foot of the conical eminence called Primrose Hill, which is connected by a ridge somewhat lower than its summit with the higher eminence of Hampstead to the north. On the west side of Primrose Hill a small stream is formed from the drainings of several springs, nearly at the same elevation as the connecting ridge, which originally flowed in a southern direction across what is now the Regent's Park, to the west side of Mary bone workhouse; thence in a direction slightly to the east of south between Manchester Square and the High Street of Marybone, Grosvenor Square, and Hanover Square, to the mews between Bond Street and Berkeley Square; thence turning to the west of south, it crossed the lower part of Berkeley Square, and entering the Green Park a little to the east of the Ranger's house, crossed what was once the site of the Mulberry Garden, now the Garden of Buckingham Palace, and Tothill Fields, to the Thames. This is the celebrated rivulet Ay-bourne or Tybourne, from which, what has been called in later days the parish and manor of Mary-le-bone, or Marybone, took their original name. The ancient Manor-house of Mary bone stood opposite the church. In the time of Queen Elizabeth it was in the possession of the Crown, and mention is made of a stag having on one occasion been hunted within the pale of the park attached to it for the amusement of the Russian Ambassadors. A part of the manor has ever since remained in the Crown. Out of this and some neighbouring fields, purchased for the purpose, was constructed the Park, which, by its name, reminds us of its having been projected and laid out during the Regency. The south side of the Regent's Park is about half a mile in length, and parallel to the New Road, which is to the south of it. The east side, nearly at right angles to the south side, extends northward to Gloucester Gate, a distance of almost three-quarters of a mile. The west side, forming an oblique angle with the south side, extends in a direction west of north to Hanover Gate, a distance of half a mile. The northern terminations of the east and west sides are connected by an irregular curve nearly coinciding with the sweep of the Regent's Canal, which passes along and within the northern boundary of the park. A sheet of water extends from Hanover Gate in a south-east direction parallel to the west side of the park, and curving round at a south-west angle, continues in a direction parallel to the south side to about the middle of it. Opposite the middle of the west side an arm of this sheet of water extends at right angles to the very centre of the park. The bottom of the valley, through which Tyburn rivulet flowed in days of old, stretches from its termination up to Primrose Hill, which is nearly due north of it. Nearly two-thirds of the park, forming an oblong parallelogram, slope down on the eastern side of the valley to the former channel of the stream and the north-east and south arms of the artificial lake which is formed by its collected waters, and which resemble, to use a simile more accurate than dignified, the arrangement of the three legs on an Isle-of-Man halfpenny. Within the houses of the Crescent formed by its north-east and south arms is the Ring, the interior of which is occupied by the Garden of the Botanical Society. On the eastern slope, at the north end of the park, is the Garden of the Zoological Society. On the east side of the park, a little south of Gloucester Gate, are the enclosed villa and grounds of the late Sir Herbert Taylor; on the west side, a little north of Hanover Gate, those of the Marquis of Hertford. Along the east, south, and west sides of the park are continuous ranges of buildings, the architecture of which is in some cases sufficiently florid, in others more than sufficiently grotesque. The open north side allows the eye to range over the beautiful uplands, Primrose Hill, Highgate, Hampstead, and the range extending westward in the direction of Harrow. The history of the Park, as a park, is a brief one. An anonymous writer speaks of it in 1812 as "already one of the greatest, if not absolutely one of the most fashionable, Sunday promenades about town;" adding, however, that it "does not appear to be in a progress likely to promise a speedy completion." It is now perhaps as far advanced towards completion as human aid can bring it; time and the vegetative power of nature alone can give those dimensions to its trees that will reveal, to its full extent, the taste with which the grounds are laid out. Even in their immature state, however, the grounds have much of beauty in them, and the view to the north is an advantage possessed by none of the other parks. When Primrose Hill has been included within the enceinte, its managers may say, "And now laborious man hath done his part." As a promenade, the Regent's Park seems quite as much in vogue as either of the other two; as a drive, Hyde Park retains its uncontested supremacy. The Zoological Gardens are a source of interest not possessed by the other parks, and the Colosseum is a rare attraction to sight-seers. The ante-park period of the Regent's Park history cannot be passed over in utter silence. The ancient Manor-house, already alluded to more than once, had a bowling-green, which, at the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, was frequented by persons of rank, but afterwards fell into disrepute. The amusements of the place are alluded to by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who, in the line "Some dukes at Marybone bowl time away" points at John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, who was constant in his visits, and gave here the annual feast to his pendables, at which his standing parting toast was—“ May as many of us as remain unhanged next spring meet here again.” Previous to 1737 Marybone Gardens were open to the public; after that year, according to Malcolm, "the company resorting to them becoming more respectable, Mr. Gough, the keeper, determined to demand a shilling as entrance-money"— the only instance in which we have heard of a fine imposed upon people for becoming respectable. In 1777 the gardens were finally closed. Their memory will be preserved by Peachum's regret that Captain Macheath should lose his money playing with lords at Mary bone, and his wife's advice to Filch to resort thither in order to acquire sufficient valour to encounter the dangers of his profession with credit to himself and his patrons. COULD we imagine any calamity to occur to London which should utterly sweep away all those outward evidences of her greatness which more particularly excite the wonder and admiration of the world, and reduce her to as dread a ruin as that which the author of the Fairy Queen' describes "High towers, fair temples, goodly theatres, Strong walls, rich porches, princely palaces, could we imagine that this great capital of capitals should ever be what Babylon is, its very site forgotten,-one could not but almost envy the delight with which the antiquaries of that future time would hear of some discovery of a London below the soil still remaining. We can fancy we see the progress of the excavators from one part to another of the mighty, but for a while inexplicable, labyrinth, till the whole was cleared open to the daylight, and the vast system lay bare before them, revealing in the clearest language the magnitude and splendour of the place to which it had belonged, the skill and enterprise of the people. Let us reflect for a moment upon what this system accomplishes. Do we want water in our houses?-we turn a small instrument, and the limpid stream from the springs of Hertfordshire, or of Hampstead Heath, or from the river Thames, comes flowing, as it were by magic, into our vessels. Do we wish to get rid of it when no longer serviceable?—the trouble is no greater; in an instant it is on its way through the silent depths. Do we wish for an artificial day?—through that same mysterious channel comes streaming up into every corner of our chambers, counting-houses, or shops, the subtle air which waits but our bidding to become -light! The tales which amuse our childhood have no greater marvels than these. Yet, as the very nature of a system of underground communication precludes it from being one of the shows of the metropolis, we seldom think of it, except when some such picturesque scene as that shown in the engraving calls our attention to those gloomy regions, or when we hear of people wandering into them from the Thames till they find Cheapside or Temple Bar above their heads.* It is principally to the growth of this system in its two chief features, the sewage and supply of water, that we now propose to request our readers' attention. "Anciently, until the time of the Conqueror, and two hundred years later, this City of London was watered (besides the famous river of Thames on the south part) with the river of the Wells, as it was then called, on the west; with a water called Walbrook running through the midst of the City into the river of Thames, severing the heart thereof; and with a fourth water, or bourn, which ran within the City through Langbourn Ward, watering that part in the east. In the west suburbs was also another great water, called Oldborn, which had its fall into the river of Wells." To this we may add, from Fitzstephen, "There are also about London, on the north of the suburbs, choice fountains of water, sweet, wholesome, and clear, streaming forth among the glistening pebble-stones. In this number Holywell, Clerkenwell, and Saint Clement's Well are of most note, and frequented above the rest when scholars and the youth of the City take the air abroad in the summer evenings." We fancy the worthy ancient who describes this scene, amidst which, no doubt, he had himself often sauntered, now stopping to admire the "glistening pebble-stones," now reclining beneath the shade of some of the trees that bordered the stream, would be puzzled could he see Clerkenwell now. This part took its name "from the parish clerks in London; who, of old time, were accustomed there yearly to assemble, and to play some large history of Holy Scripture. For example, of later time,—to wit, in the year 1390, the fourteenth of Richard II.,-I read that the parish clerks of London, on the 18th of July, played interludes at Skinner's Well, near unto Clerks' Well, which play continued three days together; the King, the Queen, and nobles, being present. Also in the year 1409, the tenth of Henry IV., they played a play at the Skinner's Well which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world. There were to see the same the most part of the nobles and gentles in England."‡ *It appeared, from an inquest held on the remains of a man discovered beneath Shire Lane, Temple Bar, in September, 1839, that there were persons who actually made a livelihood by going up these sewers in search of any stray articles that might be left by the stream. We have ourselves been told by one of them that he has been in the sewers for eighteen hours together, and that he has gone from the Thames not merely to Holborn, or Clerkenwell, but to Camden Town. They carry a lantern with them to scare away the rats. A stout heart must indeed be necessary for so frightful an occupation. The gases evolved are sometimes so powerful as to blow up the masonry; and even in lesser explosions those within may be stifled in the sudden flame. Such cases, we are told, have occurred. |