Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, vol 1 | Page 7

ponds to be united so as to
form the Serpentine; and he modified the Dutch style of the gardens,
abolishing the clipped monsters in yew and box, and introducing
wildernesses and groves to relieve the stiffness and monotony of
straight walks and hedges. The shades of her beautiful maids of honour,
"sweet Molly Lepell," Mary Bellenden, and Sophy Howe, still haunt
the Broad Walk. Molly Lepell's husband, Lord Hervey (the "Lord
Fanny" of lampoons and songs), composed and read in these rooms, for
the diversion of his royal mistress and the princesses, with their ladies
and gentlemen, the false account of his own death, caused by an
encounter with footpads on the dangerous road between London and
the country palace. He added an audacious description of the manner in
which the news was received at Court, and of the behaviour of the
principal persons in the circle.
With George II. and Queen Caroline the first glory of the palace
departed, for the early Court of George III. and Queen Charlotte took
its country pleasures at Kew. Then followed the selection of Windsor
for the chief residence of the sovereigns. The promenades in the
gardens, to which the great world of London flocked, remained for a
season as a vestige of former grandeur. In George II.'s time the gardens
were only thrown open on Saturdays, when the Court went to
Richmond. Afterwards the public were admitted every day, under
certain restrictions. So late as 1820 these promenades were still a
feature on Sunday mornings.
Kensington Palace has not yet changed its outward aspect. It still stands,
with its forcing-houses, and Queen Anne's banqueting-room--
converted into an orangery--in its small private grounds, fenced off by
a slight railing and an occasional hedge from the public gardens. The
principal entrance, under the clock-tower, leads to a plain, square, red

courtyard, which has a curious foreign aspect in its quiet simplicity, as
if the Brunswick princes had brought a bit of Germany along with them
when they came to reign here; and there are other red courtyards,
equally unpretentious, with more or less old-fashioned doors and
windows. Within, the building has sustained many alterations. Since it
ceased to be a seat of the Court, the palace has furnished residences for
various members of the royal family, and for different officials.
Accordingly, the interior has been divided and partitioned off to suit the
requirements of separate households. But the great staircase, imposing
in its broad, shallow steps of black marble and its faded frescoes, still
conducts to a succession of dismantled Presence-chambers and
State-rooms. The pictures and tapestry have been taken from the walls,
the old panelling is bare. The distinctions which remain are the fine
proportions of the apartments-- the marble pillars and niches of one; the
remains of a richly-carved chimneypiece in another; the
highly-wrought ceilings, to which ancient history and allegory have
supplied grandiose figures--their deep colours unfaded, the ruddy
burnish of their gilding as splendid as ever. Here and there great
black-and-gold court-stools, raised at the sides, and finished off with
bullet heads of dogs, arouse a recollection of Versailles or
Fontainebleau, and look as if they had offered seats to Court ladies in
hoops and brocades, and gentlemen-in-waiting in velvet coats and
breeches and lace cravats. One seat is more capacious than the others,
with a round back, and in its heavy black-and-gold has the look of an
informal throne. It might easily have borne the gallant William, or even
the extensive proportions of Anne.
There is a word dropped of "old kings" having died in the closed rooms
behind these doors. George II., in his old age? or William, worn out in
his prime? or it may be heavy, pacific George of Denmark, raised to the
kingly rank by the courtesy of vague tradition? The old chapel was in
this part of the house. Leigh Hunt tells us it was in this chapel George I.
asked the bishops to have good short sermons, because he was an old
man, and when he was kept long, he fell asleep and caught cold. It must
have been a curious old chapel, with a round window admitting scanty
light. The household and servants sat below, while a winding staircase
led round and up to a closed gallery in near proximity to the pulpit. It
was only a man's conscience, or a sense of what was due to his physical

well-being, which could convict him of slumbering in such a peaceful
retreat. It is said that her late Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent
objected to the obscurity of this place of worship, and, to meet her
objections, the present little chapel was fitted up.
The Duchess of Kent's rooms were in an adjacent wing; spacious rooms
enough, and only looking the more habitable and