The public purchasers of Hyde Park under the Commonwealth had never received any confirmation of their transaction from Parliament. From the Royalist standpoint they were liable to arrest for having acquired Crown lands, and knowing their peril they were only too glad to restore them to the King. The Law Courts declared the purchases annulled. Tracy pleaded absence abroad, and consequent ignorance of the condition of things in England when he made the purchase, and begged that he might be allowed to retain the two Knightsbridge houses. King Charles, being an easy-going soul, let him have his way.
Anthony Deane, who took by far the biggest share, set to work on the notion that he could get his money back by making the people pay for what they had hitherto freely enjoyed. He still kept up his land as a park; but a charge was made for entrance, whereat there was much discontent. Evelyn in his diary (April 1653) voices the universal grumble:
“I went to take the aire in Hide Park, when every coach was made to pay a shilling and every horse sixpence by the sordid fellow who has purchas’d it of the State, as they were called.”
That shilling was worth about four times the present sum, so a drive with a coach and pair was an expensive outing. Nevertheless, the Park seemed fairly popular with the fashionable world, but not so much as formerly, though necessarily more exclusive. A figure-head—a leader of fashion—was sadly needed. Besides, the times were not favourable to festivities. Here and there passages in private letters and extracts from diaries permit us to peep at the social gatherings in Hyde Park in the days of the Commonwealth; but they seem to have been dull, dismal affairs, entirely lacking the abandon and freedom—not to say licence—which set in after the Restoration.
Long before this a rival promenade had been opened for Society, and, strangely enough, in a church. After the destruction of the Monasteries the middle aisle of St. Paul’s Cathedral became both a market-place and a common walk. When Hyde Park was taxed, and Spring Gardens closed by Act of Parliament, “Paul’s Walk” came into still greater vogue, and between the hours of eleven and twelve, and three and six, fashion of all grades of Society met there, for the citizens wended their way to the Cathedral for recreation, and to show off their gowns, and chat with their friends instead of going west.
Yet even the Puritans had their moments of rejoicing when the dourest of natures unbent.
The old custom of Maying, which had been abolished by the Puritans, was revived in 1654. May Day was more generally observed than it had been for many years, the people “going a-Maying” to Hyde Park in large numbers.
One can easily conjure up the scene on a warm sunny day, merry, tripping, dancing, laughing maids accompanied by their swains. These young men were ’prentices in the City Companies, and donned their best accordingly to go “a-Maying” with their ladyloves. The same old, old story. Cupid was, and is, as powerful as his gloomy enemy Death, and just as eternal.
There were no Bank Holidays then, but money was saved to buy finery, new gowns were donned for the May games, and the difficulties of transport made an outing to Hyde Park just as great a business to the worker as a trip from London to the sea is to-day.
The poles were erected; they were gaily decorated with flags, bunting, and flowers; pretty dances were performed around them, while entanglement of ribbons provoked entanglement of hearts, and all made merry in Hyde Park on May Day.