George II. but seldom visited Hampton Court, and George III. preferred Kew Palace. From his time no Sovereign has occupied Hampton Court as a royal residence.
On November 4, 1793, Richard Tickell, a political writer, who had apartments in Hampton Court Palace, had been accustomed to sit and read on a parapet wall or kind of platform in one of the upper rooms. The spot was filled with flower-pots. On the day in question, while his carriage was waiting to take him and his family to town, his wife having left him for a moment, on her return missed him, and going to the open window, saw her husband lying in the garden below on the ground. Before she could reach him, he had expired. How the accident happened can never be known. He was said to have committed suicide, but there was no assignable reason for such an act.
The famous vine at Hampton Court, the largest in Europe, was planted from a slip in the year 1768. Its fruit, the black Hamburg kind, is reserved exclusively for the Queen's table. The writer of a 'Tour of England,' in 1798, says: 'In these gardens is a most remarkably large vine.... The gardener told me 1,550 bunches of grapes are now hanging upon it, the whole weight of which is estimated at 972 cwt.' It bears the same number of bunches, that is, from 1,500 to 2,000, now.
For the last century or more apartments in Hampton Court Palace have generally been bestowed on the poorer female members of noble families, or on the widows of distinguished generals and admirals who have died in the service of their country. And several of these apartments contain large suites of rooms, some of which are compact and self-contained, whilst in other cases they are inconveniently disconnected. For the accommodation of tenants of such suites there survives an ancient Sedan chair on wheels, drawn by a chairman, and called the 'Push,' which is used by ladies going out in the evening from one part of the building to another. Of the fifty-three apartments into which the palace is now divided, some contain as many as forty rooms, with five or six staircases.
Among the distinguished personages who have at various times found an asylum within the walls of Hampton Court Palace is William, Prince of Orange, Hereditary Stadtholder of Holland. Driven from his country in 1795 by the advancing wave of the French Revolution, he sought refuge in England; the apartments occupied by him in the palace were those on the east side of the middle quadrangle. Gustavus IV., after having in 1810 been deposed from the Swedish throne by Napoleon, came to England, and occupied a set of apartments here. He died in February, 1837.
One of the most curious circumstances in connection with the grant of these apartments is the fact that Dr. Samuel Johnson made application for one; his letter making it is still extant, and was, I think, first made known by Mr. Law in his 'History of Hampton Court.' The letter was addressed to Lord Hertford (then Lord Chamberlain), and dated 'Bolt Court, Fleet Street, 11 April, 1776.' He says in it that hearing that some of the apartments are now vacant, the grant of one to him would be considered a great favour, and he bases his claim on his having had the honour of vindicating his Majesty's Government. The reply to it was: 'Lord C. presents his compliments to Mr. Johnson, and is sorry that he cannot obey his commands, having already on his hands many engagements unsatisfied.' The answer sounds somewhat satirical. But what could Dr. Johnson mean by making the application? If we thought him capable of a huge joke, we might think he meant this for one; but, as he dealt in small jokes only, we are driven to assume that he wrote seriously. Did he know what he was asking for? Supposing his request had been granted, he would very soon have wished it had been refused. Fancy Johnson, the boisterous, arrogant tavern dictator, who considered the chair at a punch-drinking bout in an inn the throne of human felicity, what would he have done shut up in an apartment in the palace, in the midst of haughty dowagers, serious widows, and prim old maids, who would speedily have complained of the noisy companions who would have looked him up there! Had he gone to the King's Arms or some other hostelry in the neighbourhood, he would have had to return at early and regular hours. How could he have submitted to that? Would he have taken all his old women with him, and how long would they have been at peace with the aristocratic ladies inhabiting the palace? The results of their accidentally meeting on staircases or in passages are too awful to contemplate, and Johnson's application remains an inexplicable enigma.
In 1838, whilst removing one of the old towers built by Wolsey, the workmen came upon a number of glass bottles, which lay among the foundation; they were of curious shape, and it has been suggested that they were buried there to denote the date of the building.
On December 14, 1882, the palace had a narrow escape from destruction. A suite of eight or nine rooms, in the occupation of a lady, and overlooking the gardens and the Fountain Court, caught fire at half-past seven in the morning, it is supposed by the upsetting of a benzoline lamp in one of the servants' rooms. That the authorities should permit the use of such lamps in the building seems strange, especially in rooms situate as those were, over the tapestry-room, which adjoins the Picture Gallery, and contains splendid specimens of Gobelin and other ancient needlework. The flames spread rapidly through the rooms, and three of them were entirely burnt out before the firemen, assisted by men of the 4th Hussars, then stationed at the palace, could check the outbreak. All the other rooms were greatly damaged by fire and water. But the saddest part of the occurrence was that one of the servants, the cook, whilst rushing to the assistance of her fellow-servants, fell senseless on the floor, overcome by the smoke, and her charred and lifeless body was only got out when the fire had been subdued. It is to be hoped that a cause which might involve a great national loss has now been removed by prohibition.
In 1839 those parts of the palace which are not occupied by private residents, and the gardens, were thrown open to the public, and during the summer months are visited by thousands, who arrive there by rail, river, van, or, latterly, on the wheel-horse—vulgo bike. The permanent residents bitterly complain of these invasions, and not without reason, seeing how many 'Arrys and 'Arriets come down in holiday time; but as the palace and gardens are maintained at an expense of about £11,000 per annum out of the people's money, the right of visiting them can scarcely be denied to the public. Nor can the amount spent on the place be found fault with; it is a mere trifle in the domestic house-keeping bill of the nation, and a larger sum is annually wasted in useless firing off of cannon. The palace and gardens—
'The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of'—