Apart from an occasional sham fight on its slopes on a volunteer field day, the Heath is now left to the sole use of the people as a place of common resort and recreation, where they can breathe the fresh air, and indulge in cricket, and in such rural pastimes as may be provided for them by the troops of donkeys and donkey-boys who congregate on these breezy heights. Indeed, "Hampstead," as the modern poet says, "is the place to ruralise;" it is also, it may be added, especially at Whitsuntide, the place to indulge in a sort of equestrian exercise. Decked out with white saddle-cloths, frisking away over the sunny heath, and perhaps occasionally pitching some unlucky rider into a shallow sand-pit, the donkeys, we need hardly say, are, to the juvenile portion of the visitors at least, the chief source of amusement. By the male sex the horse is principally affected; the women and children are content with donkeys. The horse of Hampstead Heath has peculiar marks of his own. His coat is of the roughest, for he knows little about curry-combs, and passes his nights-at any rate, during the summer months-under the canopy of heaven. For his own sake it is to be hoped that he has not often a tender mouth, when we consider the sort of fellows who mount him, and how mercilessly they jerk at the reins. The Hampstead Heath horse is a creature of extremes. He is either to be seen flying at full gallop, urged along by kicks, and shouts, and blows; or if left to himself, he shambles slowly forwards, being usually afflicted in one or more of his legs with some equine infirmity. As for the donkeys, they are much like their brethren everywhere in a country where the donkey is despised and mismanaged. They are much more comfortable to ride when homeward than outward bound. The sullen crawl of the "outward-bound" donkey-his perpetual endeavours to turn round, and his craving after roadside vegetation—are, as may be well imagined, varied at intervals by the onslaughts of the donkeyman, who, with a shower of blows, a string of guttural oaths, and a hoarse "kim up," stimulates the unlucky beast into a spasmodic gallop of two minutes' duration, during which time the equestrian powers of the rider are severely tested. It may be here stated that whatever may have been the torture to which the poor animals were subjected in bygone days, there is at least a possibility of their being more tenderly dealt with hereafter, seeing that the "donkey-boys" are now under the control of the authorities who rule the Heath, and that any undue severity practised by them may end in a suspension or withdrawal of their licence. We get some little insight into the character 453 and amusements of the company usually brought together here at the commencement of the last century, in a comedy called Hampstead Heath, which was produced at Drury Lane Theatre in 1706. The following extract will serve our purpose : Act I., Sc. 1. Scene, Hampstead. Smart. Hampstead for a while assumes the day; the lively season o' the year, the shining crowd assembled at this time, of Paradise. and the noble situation of the place, give us the nearest show Bloom. London now, indeed, has but a melancholy aspect, and a sweet rural spot seems an adjournment o' the nation where business is laid fast asleep, variety of diversions feast The cards fly, the bowl runs, the dice rattle, some lose their our fickle fancies, and every man wears a face of pleasure. money with ease and negligence, and others are well pleased to pocket it. But what fine ladies does the place afford? Smart. Assemblies so near the town give us a sample of each degree. We have court ladies that are all air and no with broad brown faces like a Stepney bun; besides an enddress, city ladies all dress and no air, and country dames less number of Fleet Street semptresses that dance minuets in their furbeloe scarfs and cloaths hung as loose about them as their reputations. Enter Driver. Smart. Mr. Deputy Driver, stock jobber, state botcher, and terror of strolling strumpets, and chief beggar hunter, come to visit Hampstead. Driver. And d'you think me so very shallow, captain, to leave the good of the nation and getting money to muddle it away here 'mongst fops, fiddlers, and furbeloes, where ev'ry thing's as dear as freeholders' votes, and a greater imposition than a Dutch reckoning? I am come hither, but it is to ferret out a frisking wife o' mine, one o' the giddy multitude that's rambled up to this ridiculous assembly. That this exhilarating subject has not altogether lost its hold on the play-going public may be inferred when we state that Happy Hampstead was the title of a comedy or farce produced at the Royalty Theatre in the year 1877. On fine Sundays and Mondays, and on Bank Holidays, we need hardly add, the Heath is 'alive with swarms of visitors; and it is estimated that on a bright and sunny Whit-Monday as many as 50,000 people have been here brought together. Writing on this subject in the "Northern Heights of London," Mr. Howitt observes: "Recent times have seen Sunday dissipation re-asserting itself, by the erection of a monster public-house with a lofty tower and flag, to attract the attention of Sunday strollers on the Heath. Of all places, this raised its Tower of Babel bulk in that formerly quiet and favourite spot, the Vale of Health. That suitable refreshments should be attainable to the numerous visitors of the Heath on Sundays and holidays is quite right and reasonable; but that taps and ginpalaces on a Titanic scale should be licensed, where people resort ostensibly for fresh air, relaxation, and exercise, is the certain mode of turning all such advantages into popular curses, and converting the very bosom of nature into a hotbed of demoralisation and crime. Any one who has witnessed the condition of the enormous crowds who flock to the Heath on summer Sundays, as they return in the evening, needs no argument on the subject." Hampstead Heath has very few historical associations, like Blackheath; but there is one which, though it savours of poetry and romance, must not be omitted here. Our readers will not have forgotten the lines in Macaulay's ballad of "The Armada," in which are described the beacons which announced to the outlying parts of England the arrival of the Spanish Armada off Plymouth; how High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the North." of Mr. Hoare, at Hampstead. He very kindly came to the coach to see me off, and I never pass that spot on the top of Hampstead Heath without thinking of him." The mansion is called "The Hill," and was the seat of Mr. Samuel Hoare, the banker. Here used to congregate the great poets of the age, Rogers, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Campbell, Lucy Aikin, Mrs. Marcet, and Agnes and Joanna Baillie; whilst the centre of the gathering was the poet Crabbe. In the "Life of the Rev. George Crabbe," by his son, we read: "During his first and second visits to London my father spent a good deal of his time beneath the hospitable roof of the late Samuel Hoare, Esq., on Hampstead Heath. He owed his introduction to this respectable family to his friend Mr. Bowles, and the author of the delightful Excursions in the West,' Mr. Warner; and though Mr. Hoare was an invalid, and little disposed to form new connections, he was so much gratified with Mr. Crabbe's manners and conversation, that their acquaintance Like Blackheath, however, and, indeed, most of grew into an affectionate and lasting intimacy. Mr. the other bleak and open spaces in the neighbour- Crabbe, in subsequent years, made Hampstead his hood of London, Hampstead Heath has its recol-head-quarters on his spring visits, and only repaired lection of highwaymen, of their depredations, and of thence occasionally to the brilliant circles of the their executions, as we have mentioned in the pre-metropolis.” vious chapter. In a poem published at the close of the seventeenth century, called "The Triennial Mayor; or, The New Raparees," we read— It is, of course, quite possible that Hampstead Heath may have been used for telegraphic purposes, but there is no actual record of the fact. "As often upon Hampstead Heath We've seen a felon, long since put to death, Hang, crackling in the sun his parchment skin,` Which to his ear had shrivelled up his chin.” Mr. Howitt, in his "Northern Heights," says that "one of the earliest and most curious facts in history connected with Hampstead Heath is that stated by Matthew of Paris, or rather by Roger of Wendover, from whom he borrows it, that so lately as in the thirteenth century it was the resort of wolves, and was as dangerous to cross on that account at night, as it was for ages afterwards, and, in fact, almost down to our own times, for highwaymen." Down to the commencement of the last century, when that honour was transferred to Brentford as more central, the elections of knights of the shire for Middlesex were held on Hampstead Heath, as we learn from some notices which appear in the True Protestant Mercury, for March 2-5, 1681, the Flying Post for October 19-22, 1695, and for November 9-12, of the same year. The poet Crabbe was a frequent visitor at the hospitable residence of Mr. Samuel Hoare, on the Heath. Campbell writes: "The last time I saw Crabbe was when I dined with him at the house At the commencement of the century, if we may trust Mr. Chambers's assertion in his "Book of Days," Hampstead and Highgate could be reached only by "short stages" (ie., stage-coaches), going twice a day; and a journey thither once or twice in the summer time was the farthest and most ambitious expedition of a cockney's year. Both villages then abounded with inns, with large gardens in their rear, overlooking the pleasant country fields towards Harrow, or the extensive and more open land towards St. Albans or towards the valley of the Thames. The "Spaniards" and "Jack Straw's Castle" still remain as samples of these old "rural delights." The features of the latter place, as they existed more than a century since, have been preserved by Chatelaine in a small engraving executed by him about the year 1745. The formal arrangement of the trees and turf, in humble imitation of the Dutch taste introduced by William III., and exhibited on a larger scale at Hampton Court and Kensington Palace, may be noted in this humbler garden. To Hampstead Heath, as every reader of his "Life" is aware, Charles Dickens was extremely partial, and he constantly turned his suburban walks in this direction. He writes to Mr. John Forster: "You don't feel disposed, do you, to muffle yourself up, and start off with me for a good brisk walk over Hampstead Heath? I know a "This ," adds Forster, "led to our first experience of 'Jack Straw's Castle,' memorable for many happy meetings in coming years." 455 good house there where we can have a red-hot chop won, but was obliged to go the course the second for dinner and a glass of good wine." heat alone." We learn from Park's "History of Hampstead" that the races "drew together so much low company, that they were put down on account of the mischief that resulted from them." The very existence of a race-course on Hampstead is now quite forgotten; and the uneven character of the ground, which has been much excavated for gravel and sand, is such as would render a visitor almost disposed to doubt whether such could ever have been the case. Passing into "Jack Straw's Castle,", we find the usual number of visitors who have come up in Hansoms to enjoy the view, to dine off its modern fare, and to lounge about its gardens. The inn, or hotel, is not by any means an ancient one, and it would be difficult to find out any connection between the present hostelry and the rebellion which may, or may not, have given to it a name. The following is all that we could glean from an old magazine which lay upon the table at which we sat and dined when we last visited it, and it is to be feared that the statement is not to be taken wholly "for gospel:"-" Jack Straw, who was second in command to Wat Tyler, was probably entrusted with the insurgent division which immortalised itself by burning the Priory of St. John of Jerusalem, thence striking off to Highbury, where they destroyed the house of Sir Robert Hales, and afterwards encamping on Hampstead heights. 'Jack Straw,' whose castle' consisted of a mere hovel, or a hole in the hill-side, was to have been king of one of the English counties-probably of Middlesex; and his name alone of all the rioters associated itself with a local habitation, as his celebrated confession showed the rude but still not unorganised intentions of the insurgents to seize the king, and, having him amongst them, to raise the entire country." 6 This noted hostelry has long been a famous place for public and private dinner-parties and suppers, and its gardens and grounds for alfresco entertainments. In the "Cabinet of Curiosities," published by Limbird in 1822, we find the following lines "on 'Jack Straw's Castle' being repaired :" "With best of food-of beer and wines, Here may you pass a merry day; On the greensward behind "Jack Straw's Castle," on Sunday morning, February 17, 1856, was found the dead body of John Sadleir, the fraudulent M.P. for Sligo. The corpse was lying in a hollow on the sloping ground, with the feet very near to a pool of water; beside it was a small phial which had contained essential oil of almonds, and also a silver cream-jug from which he had taken the fatal draught. In his pocket, among other things, was found a piece of paper on which was written "John Sadleir, Gloucester Square, Hyde Park." In 1848, as we learn from his memoir in the Gentleman's Magazine, Mr. Sadleir became chairman of the London and County Joint Stock Banking Company, and for several years he presided over that body with great ability. Shortly before his death, he vacated the chair; and though still a director, he ceased to take an active part in its business. He continued to be a principal manager of the affairs of the Tipperary Bank, and he was chairman of the Royal Swedish Railway Company, in which it appeared that, out of 79,925 shares issued, he got into his own possession 48,245; besides which he dishonestly fabricated a large quantity of duplicate shares, of which he had appropriated 19,700. Among other enterprises in which Mr. Sadleir was also actively engaged, were the Grand Junction Railway of France, the Rome and Frascati Railway, a Swiss railway, and the East Kent line. He had dealt largely in the lands sold in the Encumbered Estates Court in Ireland, and in several instances had forged conveyances of such lands, in order to raise money upon them. The catastrophe was brought about by Messrs. Glyn, the London agents of the Tipperary Bank, The western part of the Heath, behind "Jack Straw's Castle," would appear to have been used in former times as the Hampstead race-course long before the "Derby" or "Ascot" had been estab-returning its drafts as "not provided for," a step lished in the popular favour. The races, however, which was followed a day or two after by the Bank do not appear to have been very highly patronised, of Ireland. On the day preceding that on which if we may judge from the fact that at the September his body was discovered on Hampstead Heath, meeting, 1732, one race only was run, and that Sadleir wrote to Mr. Robert Keating, M.P. for for the very modest stake of ten guineas. "Three Waterford (another director of the Tipperary Bank), horses started," says the Daily Courant of that a letter, intended to be posthumous, commencing period; "one was distanced the first heat, and thus: one was drawn; Mr. Bullock's 'Merry Gentleman' -: "Dear Robert,-To what infamy have I come step by step-heaping crime upon crime; and sive rights, among them being that of deodand, and now I find myself the author of numberless crimes is, therefore, in the case of a person who commits of a diabolical character, and the cause of ruin, and suicide within the manor, entitled as heir to 'the misery, and disgrace to thousands-aye, tens of whole of the goods and chattels of the deceased, thousands! Oh, how I feel for those on whom of every kind, with the exception of his estate of this ruin must fall! I could bear all punishment, inheritance, in the event of the jury returning a but I could never bear to witness the sufferings of verdict of felo de se. Sadleir's goods and chattels those on whom I have brought this ruin. It must were already lost or forfeited; but the cream-jug be better that I should not live." was claimed and received by the lord as an acknowOne of the Dublin newspapers-the Nation- ledgment of his right, and then returned." As speaking of this unexampled swindler, thus expresses itself: "He was a man desperate by nature, and in all his designs his character, his objects, his very fate, seemed written in that sallow face, wrinkled with multifarious intriguecold, callous, and cunning-instinct with an unscrupulous audacity, and an easy and wily energy. How he contrived and continued to deceive men to the last, and to stave off so securely the evidences of his infamies, until now, that they all seem exploding together over his dead body, is a marvel and a mystery." "Hampstead," says Mr. Thorne, in his "Environs of London," "is an awkward place for a suicide to select. The lord of the manor possesses very exten "deodands" have been since abolished by Act of Parliament, such a claim could not arise again. John Sadleir, we need hardly remind the reader of Charles Dickens's works, figures in "Little Dorritt" as Mr. Merdle. "I shaped Mr. Merdle himself," writes Dickens, "out of that gracious rascality." In Hardwicke's "Annual Biography" for 1857 we read thus: "Strange as it may sound, there are not wanting those who believe (in spite of the identification of the corpse by the coroner, Mr. Wakley, who had formerly sat in Parliament with him), that, after all, John Sadleir did not commit. suicide, but simply played the trick so well known in history and in romance, of a pretended death 457 and a supposititious corpse. These persons believe cottage, with its pretty balcony environed with that he is still alive and in America." Immediately at our feet, as we look down in the hollow towards the east, from the broad road in front of "Jack Straw's Castle," is the Vale of Health, with its large modern hotel, and its ponds glistening in the sunshine beyond. We wish that it could be added that this hotel forms any ornament to the scene: for down to very recent years this Vale of Health presented a sight at once picturesque and pleasant. "In front of a row of cottages," writes Mr. Howitt, "and under the creepers, and a tall arbor vita almost overtopping JOHN KEATS. Copied by termission from the Sketch taken by Mr. Severn. (See page 458.) shade of willows, were set out long tables for tea, where many hundreds, at a trifling cost, partook of a homely and exhilarating refreshment. There families could take their own tea and bread and butter, and have water boiled for them, and table accommodation found for them, for a few pence; but then came this great tavern, with its towers and battlements, and cast them literally and practically into the shade. It was, however, really gratifying to see that the more imposing and dangerous place of entertainment never could compete with the more primitive tea-tables, nor banish the homely and happy groups of families, children, and humble friends." An "old inhabitant" of Hampstead writes thus in 1876-"A plot of land lately enclosed in the Vale of Health is classic ground. In a picturesque It may be well to note here the fact that on this site South Villa now stands. Cyrus Redding, in his "Recollections," thus writes, in 1850:-"I visited him (Leigh Hunt) in the Vale of Health at Hampstead, where there was always a heartiness that tempted confidence, and with much imaginativeness, much skimming of literature, and a light culling of its wild flowers, criticism without envy, and opinions free of insincerity. Leigh Hunt yet survives, or I might be tempted to proceed to many details, which would infringe the rule I have made for myself in the mention of but few who are still spared from a day of our literature, the similar of which is hardly likely soon, if ever, to recur again." Leigh Hunt died at the house of a friend at Putney, in 1859. The "Cockney poets," Keats, Shelley, Leigh |