Part 5

It was after this that Miss Bronte came to dine with him in Young Street. She had admired "Vanity Fair" immensely, and was ready to offer hero-worship; but the sensitive, dull little governess did not reveal in society the fire that had made her books live, and we are told that Thackeray, although her host, found the dinner so dull that he slipped away to his club before she left. He had now a good income from his books, and added to it by lecturing. "Esmond" appeared in 1852, and the references to my Lady Castlewood's house in Kensington Square and the Greyhound tavern (the name of the inn opposite to Thackeray's own house) will be remembered by everyone. The novelist visited America shortly after, and then went with his children to Switzerland, and it was in Switzerland that the idea for "The Newcomes" came to him. Young Street can only claim a part of that book, for in 1853 he moved to Onslow Square, and the last number of "The Newcomes" did not appear until 1855. However, this was not his last connection with this part of Kensington, for in 1861 he built himself a house in Palace Green, but he only occupied it for two years, when his death occurred at the early age of fifty-two.

The houses in Kensington Court, near by, are elaborately decorated with ornamental terra-cotta mouldings. They stand just about the place where once was Kensington House, which had something of a history. It was for a while the residence of the Duchess of Portsmouth (Louise de Querouaille), and later was the school of Dr. Elphinstone, referred to in Boswell's "Life of Johnson," and supposed, on the very slightest grounds, to have been the original of one of Smollett's brutal schoolmasters in "Roderick Random"; though the driest of pedagogues, Elphinstone was the reverse of brutal. The house was subsequently a Roman Catholic seminary, and then a boarding-house, where Mrs. Inchbald lodged, and in which she died in 1821.

Close by was another old house, made notorious by its owner's miserliness; this man, Sir Thomas Colby, died intestate, and his fortune of L200,000 was divided among six or seven day labourers, who were his next of kin. A new Kensington House was built on the site of these two, and is said to have cost L250,000, but its owner got into difficulties, and eventually the costly house was pulled down, and its fittings sold for a twentieth part of their value. Near at hand are De Vere Gardens, to which Robert Browning came in June, 1887, from Warwick Crescent.

Further eastward we come to Palace Gate. Some of this property belongs to the local charities. It is known as Butts Field Estate, and was so called from the fact that the butts for archery practice were once set up here.

KENSINGTON GARDENS AND PALACE.

The Gardens are so intimately connected with the Palace that it is impossible to touch upon the one without the other, and though Leigh Hunt caustically remarked that a criticism might be made on Kensington that it has "a Palace which is no palace, Gardens which are no gardens, and a river called the Serpentine which is neither serpentine nor a river," yet in spite of this the Palace, the Gardens, and the river annually give pleasure to thousands, and possess attractions of their own by no means despicable. The flower-beds in the gardens nearest to Kensington Road are beautiful enough in themselves to justify the title of gardens. This is the quarter most patronized by nursemaids and their charges. There are shady narrow paths, also the Broad Walk, with its leafy overarching boughs resembling one of Nature's aisles, and the Round Pond, pleasant in spite of its primness. The Gardens were not always open to the public, but partly belonged to the palace of time-soiled bricks to which the public is now also admitted.

The first house on this site of which we have any reliable detail is that built by Sir Heneage Finch, the second of the name, who was Lord Chancellor under Charles I. and was created Earl of Nottingham in 1681, though it is probable that there had been some building on or near the same place before, possibly the manor-house of the Abbot. The first Earl of Nottingham had bought the estate from his younger brother, Sir John, and it was from his successor, the second earl, that William III. bought Nottingham House, as it was then called.

William suffered much from asthma, and the gravel pits of Kensington were then considered very healthy, and combined the advantages of not being very far from town with the pure air of the country. Of course, the house had to be enlarged in order to be suitable for a royal residence, but it was not altogether demolished, and there are parts of the original Nottingham House still standing, probably the south side of the courtyard, where the brick is of a deeper shade than the rest. King William's taste in the matter of architecture knew no deviation; his model was Versailles, and as he had commissioned Wren to transform the Tudor building of Hampton into a palace resembling Versailles, so he directed him to repeat the experiment here. The long, low red walls, with their neat exactitude, speak still of William's orders; a building of heterogeneous growth, with a tower here and an angle there, would have disgusted him: his ideal would have found its fulfilment in a modern barrack. Wren's taste, later aided by the lapse of time, softened down the hard angularity of the building, but it can in no sense be considered admirable. Thus Kensington Palace was built, and its walls and its park like gardens were to be as closely associated with the Hanoverian Sovereigns as the building and park of St. James's had been associated with the Stuarts whom William had supplanted.

The Palace was not finished when Queen Mary was seized with small-pox and died within its walls, leaving a husband who, though narrow and austere, had really loved her. He himself died at Kensington eight years later. Good-hearted Queen Anne, whose last surviving child had died two years before, took up her residence at the Palace, of which she was always extremely fond. The death of her husband in 1708 left her to a lonely reign, and she seems to have solaced herself with her garden, superintending the laying out of the grounds. She had no taste, and everything she ordered was dull and formal; yet she could not spoil the natural beauty of the situation, and she still had Wren to direct her in architectural matters. The great orangery which goes by her name, and now stands empty and forlorn, is seen on nearing the public entrance to the state apartments of the Palace, and is in itself a wonderful example of Wren's genius for proportion. The private gardens of the Palace must not be confounded with the larger grounds, which stretched up to Hyde Park. The whole place had a very different aspect at that time: there were King William's gardens, with formal flower-beds and walks in the Dutch style, and northward lay Queen Anne's additional gardens, very much in the same style. The rest was comparatively uncared-for and waste. Queen Anne died at Kensington from apoplexy, brought on by over-eating, and was succeeded by the first George, who spent so much of his time in visiting his Hanoverian dominions that he had not much left for performing the merely necessary Court duties at St. James's, and none to spare for any lengthy visits to Kensington. However, he admired the place, and caused alterations to be made. It was in his reign that the ugly annexe on the east side, bearing unmistakably a Georgian origin, was added, under the superintendence of William Kent, who had supplanted Wren. George's daughter-in-law, "Caroline the Illustrious," loved Kensington, and has left her impress on it more than any other occupant. When her husband came to the throne, she spent much of her time, during his long absences abroad, at the Palace. She employed Kent to do away with William's formal flower-beds, and she added much ground to the Gardens, taking for the purpose 100 acres from Hyde Park, and dividing the two parks by the Serpentine River, formed from the pools in the bed of the Westbourne. There were eleven pools altogether, but in later days, when the Westbourne stream had become a mere sewer, in which form it still flows underground and empties itself into the Thames near Chelsea Bridge, the Chelsea waterworks supplied the running water. The elaborate terrace, with its fountains at the north end, is a favourite place with children. The statue of Sir William Jenner stands near; it was brought from Trafalgar Square. In winter, when frozen over, the Serpentine affords skating-room for hundreds of persons, and at other times bathing is permitted in the early morning.

In her gardens the fair Queen walked with her bevy of maids of honour, that bevy which has always been renowned for its beauty, herself the fairest of all. These fascinating, light-hearted girls grew up in an age of coarseness and vice, and were surrounded by temptation, which all, alas! did not resist, in spite of their royal mistress's example and courage. It was an age of meaningless gallantry and real brutality; the high-flown compliment and pretended adoration covered cynical intention and unabashed effrontery. Caroline herself preserved an untainted name, and her influence must have been a rock of salvation to the giddy, laughing girls. Leigh Hunt, quoting from the "Suffolk Correspondence," thus summarizes these maids: "There is Miss Hobart, the sweet tempered and sincere (now become Mrs. Howard, afterwards Lady Suffolk); Miss Howe, the giddiest of the giddy (which she lived to lament); Margaret Bellenden, who vied in height with her royal mistress; the beautiful Mary Bellenden, her sister, who became Duchess of Argyll; Mary Lepel, the lovely, who became Lady Hervey; and Anne Pitt, sister of the future Lord Chatham, and as 'like him as two drops of fire.'"

Caroline's devotion to her insignificant little lord and master, and the eagerness with which she hastened on foot to meet him, running across the Gardens, on his return from the Continent, have been made the subject of satire. She was generally accompanied by her five daughters, a pathetic little band, cramped in the fetters of royalty, so stringent toward their sex. Portraits of two of them may be seen in the Palace.

Caroline did not die at Kensington, though her husband did, after having survived her more than twenty years, and having in the meantime discovered her inestimable worth. At this time the Gardens were open to the public on Saturdays by Queen Caroline's orders, and were a favourite parade, though, as everyone was requested to appear in "full dress," the numbers must have been limited. The principal promenade was the Broad Walk, which Caroline herself had caused to be made. We can picture these ghosts of the past, with their gay silks and satins, the silver-buckled shoes with coloured heels, the men in their long waistcoats, heavily skirted coats, and three-cornered hats--very fine beaux, indeed; and the women stiffly encased in the most uncomfortable garments that ever the wit of mortal devised, holding their heads erect, lest the marvellous pyramids, built up with such expenditure of time and money, should topple over, and, in spite of all disadvantages, looking pretty and piquant. It was a crowd not so far removed from us by time, so that we can attribute to the men and women who composed it the same feelings and sensibilities as our own. And yet they were very far removed from us in their surroundings, for many of the things that are to us commonplace would have been to them miraculous, so that they seem more different from us of a hundred years later than from those who preceded them by many hundreds of years. It is this mingling of a life we can understand, with circumstances so different, that gives the eighteenth century its predominant and never-dying charm.

In 1798 we hear of a man being accidentally shot while the keepers were hunting (presumably shooting) foxes in Kensington Gardens.

In the Palace itself the state apartments are now open to the public every day of the week except Wednesdays. This admittance was granted by Queen Victoria in commemoration of her eightieth year. Previously to this time the Palace had been allowed to fall into decay, and it needed a large grant from Parliament to put it into repair again. The state rooms, which are on the second floor, are well worth a visit, and the names of each, such as "Queen Mary's Gallery," "Queen Caroline's Drawing-room," and "King's Privy Chamber," are above the doors, as at Hampton Court. These rooms are nearly all liberally supplied with pictures, many of which were restored from Hampton Court after having been previously taken there. We see here the winsome face of the poor little Duke of Gloucester (p. 72), handsome Queen Caroline, sardonic William, and the family group of the children of Frederick, Prince of Wales. The selection has been made with judgment, and every picture speaks to us of the reigns most closely connected with the Palace. It is well to note the view eastward from the King's Drawing-room, which comes as a surprise. The outlook is over the Round Pond and down a vista of trees to the Serpentine, and gives a surprising effect of distance. The rooms that will always attract most attention, however, are those which were occupied by Queen Victoria as a child.

When the Duke and Duchess of Kent came to Kensington Palace seven months after their marriage, the fact that a child of theirs might occupy the English throne was a possibility, but a remote one. George III. was then on the throne; the daughter and only child of his eldest son, Princess Charlotte, had died a year previously, and it was natural that after this event the succession should be considered in a new light. The next son, William, Duke of Clarence, had carried on a lifelong connection with Mrs. Jordan, by whom he had ten children, and when the death of his elder brother's only child made him heir to the throne, it was necessary for him to contract a more suitable alliance, so with great reluctance he married Adelaide, daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg Meiningen, in 1818. Frederick, Duke of York, the next in age, had been married for many years, but his union had proved childless. He is the Duke commemorated in the column in Waterloo Place, and also in the soldier-boys' school at Chelsea.

Therefore the birth of a daughter to the Duke of Kent, the fourth son, at Kensington Palace on May 24, 1819, was an event of no small importance. The room in which the Princess was born was one on the first floor, just below the King's Privy Chamber, and it is marked by a brass plate. This is not among the state apartments shown to the public, but the little room called the Nursery, in which the young Princess played, and her small bedroom adjoining, lie in the regular circuit made by visitors through the rooms.

The Duke died less than a year after his daughter's birth, so there were no small brothers or sisters to share the Princess's childhood; but her stepsister, Princess Feodore, her mother's child, was much attached to her, and might often be seen walking or driving with her in the Gardens. The Nursery has a secondary association, for the Duke and Duchess of Teck lived for some time at Kensington Palace, and it was in this room that their daughter, the present Princess of Wales, was born.

The chief objects in the room are the dolls' house and other toys, all of the plainest description, with which Princess Victoria played as a child. There was no extravagance in her bringing up. Her mother was the wisest of women, and made no attempt to force the young intellect to tasks beyond its powers, nor did she spoil the child by undue indulgence. Early rising, morning walks, simple dinner, and games, constituted the days that passed rapidly in the seclusion of Kensington. When the young Princess had turned the age of five, her lessons began under the superintendence of Fraeulein Lehzen, the governess of Princess Feodore, who was afterwards raised to the peerage as Baroness Lehzen. Though the second of the children of the Duke of Clarence had died before Victoria was three years old, and thus her chance of the throne was greatly increased, she was not made aware of her prospects until much later. The Princess Sophia, daughter of George III., lived in Church Street close by, at York House, and the Duke of Sussex, a younger son of George III., lived with his morganatic wife, called the Duchess of Inverness, in a set of apartments in the Palace. The rooms they occupied are those now tenanted by the Duke and Duchess of Argyll; thus aunts and an uncle were constantly sharing the simple pleasures of the little family circle.

The singularly plain little bedroom near to the Nursery in the Palace is that which Princess Victoria occupied during all her happy childhood, and it was here that she was awakened to meet the Archbishop and Minister who brought her the news that her great inheritance had come upon her. The death of the Duke of York had already cleared the way to the throne, and as the years went by and the Duke of Clarence had no more children, it was seen that the little girl who played at Kensington must, if she lived, be Queen of England. When George IV. died, when she was eleven years old, her prospects were assured, and since that time she had been prepared for her future position. William IV.'s short reign of only seven years seated her on the throne when she had just passed her eighteenth year. The account of her being awakened in the early morning by messengers bearing a message of such tremendous import, her hasty rising, and stepping through into the Long Gallery with her hair falling over her shoulders, and only a shawl thrown around her, is well known to everyone.

The room in which her first Council took place is below the Cube Room. No wonder that Queen Victoria had always a tender memory of Kensington Palace.

Her favourite daughter, Princess Beatrice of Battenberg, occupies a suite of rooms at the Palace, besides Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll; and there are several other occupants--widows, retired army men, and those who have some claim on the private generosity of the Crown--who live here in sets of apartments, in the same way as others live at Hampton Court.

The somewhat untidy forcing-beds which now stand in the immediate proximity to the Palace, and which supply the royal parks, are shortly to be cleared away--a decided improvement.

Queen Victoria's connection with Kensington did not cease at her accession. At Prince Albert's suggestion a great Exhibition was held in 1851, and the huge palace of glass and iron, which was to house it, sprang up in the Gardens at the spot where the Albert Memorial now stands. Foreigners from all parts of the world visited the Exhibition, and the buildings were crowded. Very different was that crowd from that which had promenaded in the Gardens in the reigns of the Georges. Women wore coalscuttle bonnets and three-cornered shawls, with the points hanging down in the centre of their backs, and crinolines that gave them the appearance of inverted tops. Their beauty must have been very potent to shine through such a disguise! The profits of the Exhibition amounted to L150,000, which was invested in land in South Kensington. The Crystal Palace exactly suited the taste of the age, and when it had fulfilled the function for which it was primarily intended, the difficulty was to know what to do with it; it was not possible to leave it in the Gardens, so it was finally transported to Sydenham, where it still annually delights thousands.

The Albert Memorial took twenty years to complete, and cost more than L130,000. The four groups representing the continents of the world are fine both in execution and idea, also the bas-reliefs, in which every figure depicts some real person, and the smaller groups of Commerce, Manufactures, Agriculture, and Engineering. As much, unfortunately, cannot be said for the tawdry statue in its canopy.

It has been necessary to linger long over the Gardens and the Palace, but we must now turn northward up Church Street to complete our perambulation of the district. In Church Street is the Carmelite Church, designed by Pugin, and though very simple in style, not pleasing. It was built in 1865. The organ is an especially fine one, and the singing is famous. There is a relic of St. Simon Stock beneath the altar, which is very highly prized. The monastery extends along the side of Duke's Lane at the back of the church. It is rather an ornamental building, with stone pinnacles and carved stonework over the doorway. It opens upon the corner where Duke's Lane meets Pitt Street, and close by stood Bullingham House, where Sir Isaac Newton lived. It has now disappeared, and red-brick mansions have risen upon the site.

Mr. Loftie, writing in 1888, says: "When we enter the garden from Pitt Street we see there are two distinct houses. One of them to the north appears slightly the older of the two, and has an eastward wing, slightly projecting from which a passage opened on Church Street. The adjoining, or southern, house has greater architectural pretensions, and within is of more solid construction. Both have been much pulled about and altered at various times, and are now thrown together by passages through the walls. A chamber is traditionally pointed out as that in which Sir Isaac Newton died."

Sir Isaac at the time he came to Kensington was at the height of his fame and reputation, and held the office of Master at the Mint, after having been previously Deputy-Master. He had come to London from Cambridge, and settled in Leicester Square (see The Strand, same series), but finding his health suffer in consequence of the dirt and smoke, he moved "out of London" to Kensington. He remained here two years consecutively, and returned shortly before his death.

He may have been attracted to Kensington by its vicinity to the Palace. Queen Caroline, even as Princess of Wales, had always shown an inclination for the society of learned men, and in particular had showed favour to Sir Isaac. His portrait by Sir Godfrey Kneller hangs in one of the state apartments at the Palace.