The one branch of the royal family that kept up closer connection with Kew, till quite lately, was the Cambridges. The good-natured and popular Prince Adolphus had his town residence at Cambridge House, Piccadilly, afterwards occupied by Lord Palmerston, now the Naval and Military Club, known to cabmen as the “In and Out,” from the drive behind which it stands back from the street. The Duke of Cambridge held also Cambridge Cottage, marked by its portico, on the west side of the Green; and it was in the church here that he gave amusement and scandal by his habit of talking aloud to himself, after a trick of his father’s. When the parson read out “Let us pray,” the Duke would respond, “With all my heart,” but when the prayer for rain came on, he audibly remarked “No use till the wind changes!” Then on the story of Zacchæus being read, “Behold, the half of my goods I give to the poor,” his Royal Highness’s outspoken comment was “No, no! that’s too much for any man—no objection to a tenth!” The Rev. Mr. Wilkinson, in the Reminiscences above-mentioned, asserts that one nervous curate was driven out of the parish by princely interruptions to the service, not to speak of criticisms on the sermon. “A damned good sermon!” was the remark Sir William Gregory heard him make, coming out of a London chapel where the preacher had eloquently held forth against swearing. The Duke was buried in Kew Church, while his brother of Sussex chose to “lie among the people” at Kensal Green, where indeed he lies among such mere “people” as Thackeray, Leigh Hunt, Tom Hood, Sydney Smith, Isambard Brunel, George Cruikshank, John Leech, and a whole academy of R.A.’s. In Kensal Green Cemetery also was buried the last Duke of Cambridge, beside his wife Mrs. Fitz-George, who seems to have won love as well as respect in her anomalous position.
This Duke, the Commander-in-Chief of our day, was born and partly brought up in Hanover, of which his father had been Regent. He had there two English nurses, Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford, names that gave George IV. the cue for a jocular remark, “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” It was after King William’s death, when Ernest succeeded to Hanover, that the Cambridge family came back to live at Kew, of which their eldest son is found remarking in Olendorffian style, “The houses we occupy are very bad, but the place itself is very cheerful.” It is not recorded of him that he interfered with the Church service, though his everyday language was criticised as too much borrowed from its comminatory forms. In 1866, his sister, the Princess Mary of Cambridge, was married at Kew Church to the Duke of Teck, to whom was given the White Lodge in Richmond Park, whence came a bride for our present Prince of Wales.
The last quasi-royal function at Kew was the marriage in 1899 of the Princess Marie, grandchild of the Dowager Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, who, as daughter of the former Duke of Cambridge, is the sole surviving grand-daughter of George III. At the parish church, in presence of the Prince of Wales and several other members of the royal family, the young Princess was married to Count Jametal, by a bevy of clergymen, among whom the Rev. F. F. Reavely, Rector of Lexham, took a chief part at the Grand Duchess’ special request. The wedding breakfast was given at Cambridge Cottage, which, till the death of the late Duke, remained a link between Kew and royalty. It is understood to have been since offered to various members of the royal family, who declined it as involving too much expense in repairs and upkeep; and it now seems likely to be in some way turned to public use, like the rest of King George’s property here.
V
VISITING THE GARDENS
Kew has grown out to run into Richmond by blocks of commonplace suburban houses, some of which boast to stand on a dozen feet of gravel. The quaint Georgian mansions have mostly sunk in relative importance; and the homely cottages that once neighboured them have gone, or are like to go, though some of them still do a trade in refreshments, notably in sixpenny and ninepenny teas served to holiday parties. One side of the Green, turning from the Bridge to the main gate, is a row of houses and gardens of entertainment, at the doors of which, on a Sunday afternoon, clamorous touts strive to draw in the coming and going streams of sightseers, thus admitted to dwellings where celebrities of the past may once have been at home. This is a sign how as Kew waned in aristocratic favour, it waxed as a scene of popular resort, through the attractions of its oasis in Greater London’s desert of brick and mortar.
IN THE ROCK GARDEN
From all parts of London it is easy to get to Kew, by railways from north and south to either side of the river, by tramways to the Brentford end of the Bridge, by omnibuses, of which specimens may soon be worth preserving in museums along with fossil trees and Ichthyosaurus skeletons; and by steamboats plying in summer time up the devious reaches of the river. The Gardens are open at all reasonable hours of daylight, and their hot-houses after midday. It is on Sunday and holiday afternoons, naturally, that His Majesty’s subjects take most advantage of their privileges, and, of course, fine weather will help to waft abroad the poet’s invitation to “Come down to Kew in lilac-time”—