Moreover, that cosmopolitan touch, in which all Britons rejoice so long as it does not encroach, began to show itself, and in 1803, the exiled Bourbon Princes were often to be seem among the throngs in the Park, and they were present at a review held by the King, to which the Queen and Princesses also came, as well as six of the Princes. It was a most brilliant affair, and attracted crowds.
Winter Amusements. From a Print in Crace Collection, British Museum.
Those early nineteenth-century days were full of amusing eccentricities. The springs in Hyde Park were much sought after by people for bathing, others for drinking, and on Sundays a strange scientist and doctor, who resided in Mount Street, Martin van Butchell by name, used to attend, to distribute water from one of them. He was a well-known character, who rode daily among the throng on a white pony with a long, flowing tail, and this poor beast used at times to be painted whatever colour his master fancied. The advertisements of this self-advertising quack in the contemporary newspapers are most amusing.
Malcolm, in his Review of Society in 1807, says:
“Other amusements of the great consist in riding through Hyde Park: the ladies in their coaches, and the gentlemen on horseback in an adjoining road. He that would judge of the population of London should attend in the Park on any Sunday at three o’clock, from February till May; he must be astonished at the sight. The coaches, the horses, the populace of every rank who toil against the bleak East winds, are wonderfully numerous. Nor should he omit a visit to Kensington Gardens in May, to view the beautiful pedestrians that form our fashionable world: or a winter excursion to the Serpentine River and the Canal in St. James’s Park, where numbers skait, or attempt to skait.”
In 1808 it was suggested in Parliament that houses should be built in Hyde Park itself, but the proposal was quickly vetoed, for year by year it became more and more popular as a public rendezvous. The Prince of Wales came dashing down the Row in his tilbury, with his groom by his side, displaying a lack of dignity that shocked many people. The aged and infirm enjoyed a pleasant drive in the Park. Dr. Burney describes his daily outing after he was paralysed, as “an old lady’s drive about Hyde Park,” while it was the scene of a pathetic incident in the life of Princess Caroline and her daughter.
Forbidden to hold intercourse with her only child—the Princess Charlotte—and refused admittance at Windsor, Princess Caroline was one day driving, when she saw her daughter’s carriage going in another direction. She bade her coachman follow, and finally, in Hyde Park, overtook Princess Charlotte near the Serpentine. The carriages drew up side by side, the Royal occupants leaned over, kissed each other, and exchanged some cherished words of conversation. A crowd gathered, but no matter—it was a sympathetic English crowd, parents and children themselves, who would have defended the mother and daughter had need arisen.
Just about this period a Mrs. Browne came to London, lovely and to be pitied. She attracted the attention of the remarkable Lord Petersham. Henceforth this nobleman appeared in Hyde Park indicating to the world the trend his affections had taken by his brown hat and clothes, brown coach, brown horses, brown liveries, even to the servants’ hats.
Lord Petersham’s rival in eccentricity was a wonderful, wealthy magnate from Antigua. Society named him Diamond Coates, or Romeo Coates; the latter name arose from his passion for acting, and especially his performance as Romeo. His turn-out in the Park was most remarkable. Drawn by perfect horse-flesh, he posed in a luxurious carriage shaped like a shell,—altogether a most imposing and artistic affair,—but he spoilt the effect, and displayed the nouveau riche, by sticking his ridiculous crest all over his belongings. Nevertheless, he was the pet of fashion for some time.