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