From a royal residence to a royal collection: The state apartments at Hampton Court Palace, 1737–1838

From a royal residence to a royal collection: The state apartments at Hampton Court Palace,... Abstract This article uses the manuscript inventories of the Royal Collection, alongside published hand-lists and guidebooks, to establish what was on display at Hampton Court, and in which rooms, between 1737 and 1838. This period saw the transformation of the palace from a royal residence into an art museum. The importance of the palace’s collection of paintings, centred on Raphael’s Cartoons, effected this change, within the context of a growing debate about access to national treasures. In the 1830s, over 500 paintings from other royal palaces were moved to Hampton Court and the palace was opened to the general public. The history behind the decisions that created one of the first free picture galleries in England is examined. Hampton Court Palace changed its identity from royal residence to historic monument and art gallery between 1737 and 1838. The history of this period is frequently explained by simplistic assertions that George II abandoned the palace after the death of Queen Caroline, while Queen Victoria later decided to open Hampton Court to the public as an act of philanthropic largesse. The palace’s history during the century in between these two events is poorly documented, yet it witnessed an important transformation in the perception of the palace, both by its royal owners and in the popular imagination. At the same time, the interiors of the State Apartments evolved from a late Stuart and early Georgian decorative scheme, preserved in hibernation, into an art museum and a home for hundreds of paintings from the Royal Collection: this process too is little understood, and the reasons for the change obscure. George III, supposedly disturbed by bad memories of being physically bullied at Hampton Court by his grandfather, is generally believed to have purposefully ignored the palace, never returning as king.1 Hampton Court’s furnishings and collections were removed to Windsor Castle and Buckingham House, and what was left ossified into a cavernous labyrinth of empty rooms, a Satis House presided over by the ghosts of royal past and a ‘quality poor-house’2 for the Grace-and-Favour residents allowed to stay. This article will argue that the future for the palace was by no means clear in the eighteenth century, and that attempts were made to maintain the palace as a viable royal residence, with the retention in situ of much its royal Georgian picture hang up until the 1830s. By this date, Hampton Court had finally become too unfashionable and impractical for continued royal use. However, during the previous century, the centrality of the art collection to the State Apartments, especially the hallowed status of the Raphael Cartoons at the heart of the palace, created a new audience. Here we shall trace the history of the picture hang in the State Apartments, and explore the reasons for its survival and, ultimately, how and why over 500 paintings were moved there from other palaces and their transformative effect on the identity of Hampton Court in the 1830s. Whilst the Royal Collection remained privately owned, the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries witnessed a profound change in how its works of art were perceived and experienced by the general public. These changes at Hampton Court are contextualized here within the concurrent public debate around access to ‘national treasures’, as well as historic monuments, to explain why Hampton Court became a free visitor attraction in 1838. What follows is not a general history of the Royal Collection and royal patronage or a comprehensive account of Hampton Court during this period.3 Still less is it an attempt to analyse the complex political and cultural changes of a century that saw the diminishing of the scale and influence of the royal court and the concomitant growth in Parliamentary power and demand for social and educational reform.4 All of these narratives, however, inevitably affected the particular history of Hampton Court, and help to contextualize how and why the palace changed its identity between 1737 and 1838. Hence an attempt is made here to demonstrate that there are three principal explanations behind the changes that took place there: the gradual obsolescence of the palace as a viable royal residence; the survival and importance of the Royal Collection in the State Apartments, and finally the rise of cultural tourism and patriotic sentiment that drove more visitors to Hampton Court even before the palace was freely opened to the public in 1838. The relationship and interplay between these three forces for change created the particular circumstances at Hampton Court that determined the palace’s new identity as a visitor attraction and art gallery. The royal family at Hampton Court: contingency and obsolescence The royal family spent most of the summer of 1737 at Hampton Court, only leaving on 26 October for the winter season at St James’s Palace, the official London home of the monarch throughout the Georgian period. At this point, there was no question that Hampton Court remained an actively used royal residence. It may not have been the most popular palace, nor the most politically or socially important, but it endured and retained its identity as part of the continuing royal narrative. The Queen’s Staircase had recently been decorated, and the private apartments of George II and Queen Caroline, together with the rooms appointed for their children, all expensively refurbished by William Kent; the furnishings elsewhere in the State Apartments had also been refreshed.5 Money was spent, balls were enjoyed, and the court might have looked forward to returning the following summer. The death of Queen Caroline on 20 November did not necessarily jeopardise this future. The court reporters in the gazettes and newspapers of this period often printed announcements that the royal family were expected to return to the palace: in 1739, the king was expected ‘to pass the remainder of the summer at Hampton Court’; in 1746, the palace was ordered ‘to be fitted up for the Royal Family to reside in some part of the summer’.6 Even though these particular visits did not take place, the possibility of the court returning remained. There was, certainly, no sudden removal of the principal interior furnishings or interior decorations at the palace, apart from the more portable items that often accompanied the royal court as it moved from palace to palace as part of its habitual royal progress. Nonetheless, it soon became clear that George II preferred the more domestic comforts of Richmond Lodge: summers were spent here when the king was not in Hanover and replaced a regular season at Hampton Court. Richmond had always been popular with King George: even before Queen Caroline’s death, the king had developed plans, with Kent, for a new palace there. George II’s estranged eldest son Frederick, Prince of Wales, spent his summers in the White House at Kew, or at Cliveden, with his young and growing family. Between 1737 and the death of George II in 1760, the only recorded royal visits to Hampton Court were day-trips, often only to the park, with a solitary account of the king dining at the palace on 8 July 1749: he left for St James’s Palace that evening.7 Ernest Law much later anecdotally reported that the king also travelled to Hampton Court for the day in the company of his mistress, Amelia von Malmoden, Countess of Yarmouth, but there is, perhaps unsurprisingly, no documentary record of their use of the State Apartments.8 The effect of this neglect on the interiors of the State Apartments was, in the short term, negligible. The King’s Apartments remained much as William III had left them in 1702, when the rooms had been decorated and furnished in the last years of his reign. Sixteenth-century tapestries shared space with seventeenth-century portraits, creating a sense of continuation with the royal past, while triumphal ceiling paintings by Antonio Verrio added a more contemporary baroque flourish. A large equestrian portrait of the King William by Godfrey Kneller stood opposite the canopied chair of state in the Presence Chamber, and the apartment was book-ended by a Guard Chamber dressed with a display of arms and a fully furnished State Bedchamber. In between, Raphael’s Cartoons hung in a purpose-built gallery, ‘universally admir’d, and of inestimable value.’9 The Queen’s Apartments were an admixture of baroque architecture and Georgian improvements: Queen Mary II’s own needlework hangings still decorated her Closet, while a set of early eighteenth-century Brussels tapestries telling the story of Alexander lined the Queen’s Gallery. Marble tables, silver chandeliers and sconces, rich damask furnishings, dense over-mantle arrangements of china, elaborately cut pier glasses, and gilt torchères completed an opulent interior display befitting a royal palace. There were no new extensive building campaigns, nor expensive restoration programmes; the money spent on Hampton Court during the 1740s and 1750s was not excessive, restricted principally to what was necessary for the building’s preservation. The estate was placed under the care of a Board of Works, led by a clerk and a small team of resident labourers, while Royal Household craftsmen from bricklayers to painters, locksmiths to rat-killers were employed on a list of maintenance tasks to ensure that the palace remained water-tight and habitable.10 Tradesmen’s bills from these years, including the upholsterers Sarah Lowry and William Reason and the cabinet-makers Henry Williams and Benjamin Goodison, record an annual programme of repairs to the furniture and furnishings.11 Verrio’s murals on the King’s Staircase were restored in 1750–5112 and the amassed weaponry in the King’s Guard Chamber was apparently ‘taken down to be clean’d, and are replac’d once every Year in the Spring’.13 The warrant-books of the Office of Works describe orders to the same tradesmen for ‘taking down furnitures of beds, window curtains . . . together with chests of drawers . . . several glasses and removing tables . . . and in several apartments packing them up, helping to load, and afterwards to unload the wagons, some of them being sent to Greenwich and others to Windsor’.14 There are also records, however, of furniture moving in the opposite direction, while the stores at Hampton Court retained furniture, plate and other essential items that could be easily brought back into service if required. A Housekeeper, as well as a Keeper of the Privy Lodgings and a Chaplain, continued to live at the palace, charged with looking after the building and its contents, the resident staff and the household stores.15 Outside the State Apartments, Hampton Court in fact continued to be a royal residence of sorts. George II’s second daughter, Princess Amelia, was appointed Keeper of Hampton Court in 1748 and adopted the two easternmost pavilions in the Great Park as a summer home: the outbuildings were remodelled with fashionable bow windows and refurbished with new suites of mahogany and walnut furniture supplied by Goodison, chintz-style wallpaper, upholstery and matching curtains, and French carpets. The king’s stable and stud was also based at the palace, and the buildings were repaired at some expense in 1743 and again in 1755.16 With both his daughter and his horses ensconced at the palace, George II had every reason to continue to visit Hampton Court, and with the State Apartments remaining in good order the potential of the palace as a more permanent seat of monarchy remained. The accession of George III in 1760 brought renewed expectation that Hampton Court might once again become a regular fixture on the royal calendar. Yet the new king’s own domestic preferences had been centred around his family home at Kew, and it soon became apparent that George III would not be favouring Hampton Court and was instead drawn to the acquisition in 1762 of a brand new residence that might better reflect his own architectural and aesthetically classical tastes, as well the more modern requirements of a young royal family. Buckingham House was initially envisioned, and remained explicitly identified, as the Queen’s House. It was a private royal residence, not yet the public magnet for royal identity and ceremony that it would become. George III and Queen Charlotte’s active interest in designing their new interiors and furnishing them with their own selection of works of art from the Royal Collection would, however, have direct consequences for the displays in Hampton Court’s own royal apartments. Nonetheless, a Board of Works continued to meet at Hampton Court throughout the eighteenth century; between £1,000 and £2,000 a year was spent on maintenance of the estate. Verrio’s murals were restored (again) in 1781 and 1792, and the Great Gatehouse, in danger of collapse in 1769, was completely rebuilt (although at a much reduced height).17 Hampton Court remained in good repair, and the wider palace continued to be a summer home for royal princes. Prince Henry, Duke of Cumberland and Prince William, Duke of Gloucester, younger brothers of George III, occupied the Pavilions from 1764 ‘in very private circumstances indeed’ and Gloucester continued to visit with his family until 1805.18 Occasional royal day-trips were reported in the press, and in 1765 the Count de Guerchy, the French ambassador, was at the palace ‘attended by several foreigners of distinction’.19 For the most part, however, George III restricted his public ceremonies to St James’s Palace, and his private life to Buckingham House; this trend was intensified in the later years of the eighteenth century, when the king’s health declined and the number of levees, drawings rooms and presentations decreased. With less necessity for the wider court to be in permanent attendance on the monarch, courtiers began to put down more permanent roots in particular locations. Informally at first, the old courtier lodgings at Hampton Court became the homes for those with the right connections, but without the pressing need or ambition to live in close proximity to the king. By 1773, this adoption of the palace as a Grace-and-Favour residence had become officially sanctioned, with warrants for apartments issued by the Lord Chamberlain. Grace-and-Favour residents hosted, mostly in a small way but occasionally in a quite grand fashion, the kind of entertainment familiar to those at court. Balls were held in the larger apartments alongside private dinners and celebrations. The old Chapel Royal filled up with a new congregation, competing over the best pews, and the Housekeeper was kept busy dealing with requests for more furniture and the occasional dispute.20 The State Apartments were not used by the Grace-and-Favour residents, although the footprint of more than one apartment encroached on some of the private royal apartments, notably the rooms previously inhabited in the 1730s by the younger members of the royal family in the north-east corner of Fountain Court. The biggest disruption to the peaceful hibernation of the State Apartments was the arrival in February 1795 of William V, Prince of Orange, his family and his immediate circle of advisers: a court in exile, forced to flee from the advancing French army and Dutch revolutionaries. Prince William and his retinue took over a large area of the palace around Fountain Court, and the Queen’s Guard and Presence Chambers were opened up as suitably grand reception rooms for a favoured royal relation and important diplomatic exile (Fig. 1). It was noted by the king in a letter to Lord Grenville that Hampton Court was the most appropriate destination, ‘Kensington is so totally unfurnished that it would be impossible to lodge them there.’21 Hampton Court, revealingly, was made ready in only four weeks, at a not inconsequential cost of £5,000.22 Fig. 1. View largeDownload slide A print by James Gillray from 1796, entitled The Orangerie, or, the Dutch Cupid reposing after the fatigues of planting, caricaturing William V’s luxurious residence at Hampton Court and his alleged amorous liaisons. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 1. View largeDownload slide A print by James Gillray from 1796, entitled The Orangerie, or, the Dutch Cupid reposing after the fatigues of planting, caricaturing William V’s luxurious residence at Hampton Court and his alleged amorous liaisons. © The Trustees of the British Museum. The surviving accounts of the Lord Steward’s department, charged with the care and provision of Prince William’s household while he remained at Hampton Court, reveal a luxurious diet washed down with copious bottles of port, sherry and Madeira, reminiscent of the grandest days of early Georgian residency at the palace.23 George III, who visited the prince at Hampton Court with the queen and other members of the royal family on more than one occasion, also provided a team of servants, including a housemaid, cook, porter, clerk and other domestics. Purveyors’ bills and disbursements regularly topped £1,000 per month. The artist Joseph Farington recorded in his diary that the prince had ‘every day at one o’clock a déjeune, or public breakfast of teas, coffee, cold meat and wine, to which such fashionable people as reside in the vicinity of Hampton Court and have been introduced to him and the princess go without ceremony. The prince and princess have visited several of the neighbours on evening parties to tea and cards.’24 The Prince of Orange and his family left Hampton Court for the Continent in August 1802; according to Farington, the princess ‘was so much distressed that the blinds of the carriage were drawn up to prevent Her from being seen.’25 They left behind a palace still capable of hosting a royal court and still furnished with much of the grand theatrical paraphernalia of its baroque heyday. But while in 1737 the interiors had been fashionably up-to-date, reflective of the tastes and needs of the early Georgian monarchy, they had not been modernized, aesthetically or practically. George III clearly saw them as a relic of the past, an obsolete set of rooms within an even older and antiquated palace. When, in 1770, a fire broke out in the Guard Room and Sutler’s House, the king had supposedly remarked to Lord Hertford, ‘that he should not have been sorry had it been burnt down.’26 George III’s attitudes were confirmed by George IV’s preferences for ambitious rebuilding projects at Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace, and by the time a young Princess Victoria first visited the palace in 1836, she was moved to describe ‘a very curious old palace, and the collection of pictures is beautiful.’27 It was the second part of this epithet, however, which revealed how Hampton Court’s future would be determined. The 1820s and 1830s would witness a quite dramatic reorganization of, and a public debate about access to, the Royal Collection, and this would have a direct impact on the future of the State Apartments at Hampton Court. The Royal Collection at Hampton Court: survival and transformation In 1750, Frederick, Prince of Wales visited the State Apartments at Hampton Court with his family and in the company of the connoisseur George Vertue and the artist George Knapton. Vertue’s notebooks recorded that ‘Every picture [and] painting throughout the palace was curiously examined and criticized, his Royal [Highness] taking as much delight and pains as anybody could, often asking [and] enquiring for his better information – and discovering with surprising delight and pleasure to shew his love to Art as well as his intelligence.’28 Knapton and Vertue had already visited Kensington Palace the previous week, also with Prince Frederick, and travelled on to Windsor Castle the following day. Vertue took notes, and was allowed to borrow the ‘Housekeepers’ books’ to draw up new inventories for the picture collections at each palace, as the prince had ‘desired and ordered me to get the catalogue of all those pictures, for his own use.’29 Vertue’s manuscript catalogue, The Collections of Pictures, Paintings etc at Kensington, Hampton Court and in the Castle of Windsor 1750, is not much more than an inventory, but it demonstrates that the painting hang at Hampton Court had remained virtually untouched since the 1730s.30 Vertue’s list for the State Apartments is almost identical to the paintings described in George Bickham’s Deliciae Britannicae of 1742, the first detailed guidebook to the palace, and earlier notes by Vertue himself from 1735 and 1729. As well as eighty-four pictures in the State Apartments on the first floor, Vertue also listed sixty-four paintings still in the king’s private apartments on the ground floor. This was an area of the palace that Bickham had not included in his book, apart from the ‘Beauty Room’ (now known as the King’s Private Dining Room) at the foot of the King’s Staircase where visitors could meet Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ of the court of Mary II. The survival of the royal picture collection in the private apartments argues for the continuing possibilities of Hampton Court as a viable royal residence at this stage. Prince Frederick’s death the following year robbed Hampton Court of the attentions of an enthusiastic art connoisseur, but his eldest son, George III, inherited many of his father’s interests and aspirations. The acquisition of Buckingham House and the subsequent remodelling of the building by William Chambers between 1762 and 1776 gave the king an opportunity to re-arrange the Royal Collection according to his own tastes.31 Stephen Slaughter, Surveyor of the King’s Pictures, was paid for ‘making out new lists and taking the dimensions of his Majesty’s pictures at the palaces of Kensington, Hampton Court and Windsor Castle’,32 while Horace Walpole wrote that ‘the king and his wife are settled for good and all at Buckingham House, and are stripping the other palaces to furnish it.’33 Most importantly, in December 1763, Raphael’s Cartoons were removed from Hampton Court and taken to the new royal home, along with pictures by Giulio Romano, Antonio Allegri Correggio and Paolo Veronese from the king’s private closets. Walpole wrote later in 1784 that, ‘The Cartoons and other capital pictures have been replaced by some pictures from Kensington and other palaces, and by some large but very indifferent pictures by Sebastian Ricci, Zuccarelli, and by some curious ones taken from the lower apartments’.34 The criticism seems unjust, or at least indicative of the superlative status of the Cartoons in eighteenth-century connoisseurial judgement. In 1764, Slaughter had removed a selection of significant paintings from Kensington Palace to Hampton Court, including Bassano’s The Flood, Schiavone’s The Judgment of Midas, Tintoretto’s The Muses, and Bonifazio’s The Two Holy Families, as well as the van Dyck equestrian portrait of Charles I and Rubens’s portrait of Don Rodrigo Calderon (identified at the time as the Duke of Alba).35 The king’s private closets on the ground floor were now empty, but most of these paintings had simply been moved upstairs, as Walpole makes clear, to the smaller staterooms on the principal floor (Fig. 2).36 Fig. 2. View largeDownload slide By the 1770s, the King’s Closet on the principal floor of the State Apartments was hung, for the most part, with smaller works of art removed from the king’s private apartments on the ground floor of the palace. Identifiable pictures, in this later view by Richard Cattermole, published in Pyne’s Royal Residences of 1819, include: Gibson’s portrait of Queen Henrietta Maria; Bogdani’s Peacock, Sassoferato’s Mater Dolorosa, and in prime position on the left-hand wall Bassano’s Adoration of the Shepherds. © Historic Royal Palaces. Fig. 2. View largeDownload slide By the 1770s, the King’s Closet on the principal floor of the State Apartments was hung, for the most part, with smaller works of art removed from the king’s private apartments on the ground floor of the palace. Identifiable pictures, in this later view by Richard Cattermole, published in Pyne’s Royal Residences of 1819, include: Gibson’s portrait of Queen Henrietta Maria; Bogdani’s Peacock, Sassoferato’s Mater Dolorosa, and in prime position on the left-hand wall Bassano’s Adoration of the Shepherds. © Historic Royal Palaces. Walpole, indeed, went on to add that, ‘The heads of the Admirals are well placed in the great Guard Chamber, and most are fine, and there is also a portrait of Prince George, and a view of the Colisseum by Canaletto; Joseph and his Mistress (from below) by Gentileschi, very good for him.’ Amongst other works, Walpole also singled out the following paintings for praise: van Aelst’s Dead Game and Verelst’s Bunch of Grapes; Holbein’s portrait of William Reskimer and van Dyck’s Mrs Lemon; Bronzino’s Lady in Green (at the time attributed to Sebastiano del Piombo); a portrait of Prince Henry in armour by Mytens, and a drawing of Tritons by Giuseppe Cesari. The priority remained Buckingham House, but Hampton Court had not been stripped of its works of art and the majority of the final royal hang of the 1730s still remained at the palace.37 The Cartoons, indeed, returned to Hampton Court forty years after they had been removed, the change again partly driven by royal requirements elsewhere. In 1787, limitations of space at Buckingham House had seen the Cartoons removed to Windsor Castle; by the turn of the century, work on the royal apartments at Windsor meant a new home had to be found again. A drawing survives, which shows how the Cartoons were to be hung at Hampton Court, with consideration given to Raphael’s original scheme.38 The Cartoons had defined the art collection at Hampton Court as special, ensured that important works were brought to the palace to replace them in the 1760s, that the picture hang in general was retained in the State Apartments, and ultimately brought about their own return in 1804. Nonetheless, that same year, a dozen paintings were removed from Hampton Court for the staterooms at Windsor, including three large landscapes by Francesco Zuccarelli, together with smaller paintings by Guercino, Nicolaes Berchem, Gerrit Dou and Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer, and the large van Dyck equestrian portrait of Charles I from the Cartoon Gallery.39 Joseph Farington heard from the art collector Francis Bourgeois that ‘the king has also directed that . . . all the valuable pictures of the Old Masters were to be removed from the different palaces and placed in the Great Gallery at Windsor.’40 Meanwhile, the Surveyor-General of the King’s Works, James Wyatt, visited Hampton Court along with Bourgeois and the history painter Francis Tresham to discuss possible new hangs for the palace, including the idea of creating in the Tudor Great Hall ‘a grand national Depot of Art’, featuring a work by each of the members of the Royal Academy.41 For the time being, however, the picture-hang recorded by W. H. Pyne in the gloriously illustrated Royal Residences of 1819, still remained more in tune with the historic interior decoration of the palace, with more recent additions overhanging tapestries in the larger of the State Apartments (Fig. 3). Fig. 3. View largeDownload slide A view, dating from 1819, of the ‘Second Presence Chamber’ in the King’s State Apartments (more commonly known as the King’s Eating Room), showing how the gradual addition of paintings compromised the original interior scheme of the room. Van Mander’s portrait of Christian IV above the fireplace was part of the royal hang of 1700, along with the landscapes above the doors, but the tapestries and panelling have been overhung with new additions, including van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I on horseback, and a set of four paintings by Giovanni Cipper. The transformation of Hampton Court into an art museum had already begun, and would be completed by the arrival of over 600 further paintings in the 1830s. © Historic Royal Palaces. Fig. 3. View largeDownload slide A view, dating from 1819, of the ‘Second Presence Chamber’ in the King’s State Apartments (more commonly known as the King’s Eating Room), showing how the gradual addition of paintings compromised the original interior scheme of the room. Van Mander’s portrait of Christian IV above the fireplace was part of the royal hang of 1700, along with the landscapes above the doors, but the tapestries and panelling have been overhung with new additions, including van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I on horseback, and a set of four paintings by Giovanni Cipper. The transformation of Hampton Court into an art museum had already begun, and would be completed by the arrival of over 600 further paintings in the 1830s. © Historic Royal Palaces. Windsor Castle remained the focus of royal attention throughout the early 1800s. George IV completed and expanded his father’s ambitions and this meant further extractions from Hampton Court. In 1829, statues and vases were removed from the gardens using artillery wagons, including Hubert Le Sueur’s two large bronze statues of Hercules and Antinous, and the four marble statues of Pomona, Flora, Ceres and Diana, which had been removed from the parapet on the south front of the palace in the late eighteenth century. In 1823, the king ordered that the portraits of heroic British admirals in the King’s Guard Chamber by Kneller and Michael Dahl should be sent to Greenwich Hospital; the Mytens studio portrait of the celebrated Elizabethan admiral, Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham, followed in 1825. Throughout his reign, many paintings also left the palace on loan to the British Institution in Pall Mall, for its Old Master exhibitions: in 1822 these included works by Palma Vecchio, Lorenzo Lotto and Sebastiano del Piombo, and in 1824 paintings by Orazio Gentileschi, Jacopo Bassano, Jacopo Tintoretto, Giovanni Bellini, Andrea Schiavone and Anthony van Dyck. As Prince Regent, George’s expenditure on works of art and interior decoration had been extravagant but distinguished. ‘At Carlton House, the stage sets were constantly changing’;42 Lady Sarah Spencer wrote in 1810, ‘He changes the furniture so very often, that one can scarcely find time to catch a glimpse at each transient arrangement before it is all turned off for some other.’43 Carlton House became the London home for most of the prince’s new acquisitions, but in 1827 it was demolished, considered inadequate for the needs of a king. Instead, George IV embarked on a transformation of Buckingham House from a domestic home for the royal family into a grand stage for ceremonial occasions. Combined with the long-running building campaigns at Windsor, this meant an enormous upheaval of paintings and works of art, in and out of stores and between royal residences. In 1842, Anna Jameson repeated an anecdotal report that George IV had ordered Thomas Baucutt Mash, the Deputy-Chamberlain, ‘to select from among the old pictures preserved in the palaces those which he . . . considered to be of value, and sell the rest.’44 The man now in charge of managing the Royal Collection was the picture dealer William Seguier; he had succeeded Benjamin West as Surveyor of the King’s Pictures after the latter’s death in 1820. A hostile Benjamin Haydon wrote in 1830, ‘His king does nothing without Mr Seguier’s advice. At the B[uckingham] Gallery, he is keeper, hanger, judge, secretary and factotum,’45 while a later biographical description by his nephew, Francis Seguier, claimed that the king ‘would frequently summon him to Windsor, and would detain him until a late hour of the day.’46 However, until Richard Redgrave was appointed by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1857, the surveyorship was an advisory position, light on particular duties. Its primary role was practical: to restore pictures and prepare them for hanging, as directed by the king; there was no great curatorial responsibility to research the collection or to plan complex pedagogical displays. Seguier’s manuscript ‘Catalogue of His Majesty’s Pictures’ was drawn up in the early 1820s. It is divided into six sections and lists all the paintings at Kensington, Buckingham Palace, St James’s, Kew and Hampton Court.47 At this date, there were 658 pictures at Kensington, but this figure was soon increased by a further 352 paintings removed en masse from Buckingham House ahead of the planned rebuilding programme. Seguier’s annotations in the inventory list a summary qualitative assessment of all the pictures, from ‘most capital’ to ‘indifferent’, ‘finely coloured’ and ‘in high preservation’ to ‘dark’ and ‘considerably injured’. Whether or not a mass disposition of some of the lesser works at Kensington was ever seriously considered, nothing had been done by the time of George IV’s death in 1830 and the pictures remained marooned at Kensington; Jameson remembered having seen hundreds of them ‘lying in heaps one against each other.’48 Soon after the accession of William IV, the situation at Kensington became more challenging. The Duchess of Kent made frequent requests to expand her apartments at the palace, campaigning for accommodation that befitted her daughter Princess Victoria’s status as heir to the throne. The State Apartments, she suggested, could be colonized, as they were unused, unoccupied and ‘used for old pictures’.49 William IV preferred to maintain Kensington as a set of usable staterooms, but – despite financial uncertainty and considerable and ongoing disagreement – a new suite of seventeen rooms was prepared for the duchess and Princess Victoria between 1834 and 1836, with the King’s Gallery being partitioned into three new domestic spaces. As Duke of Clarence, William IV had lived in domestic happiness with his mistress Dorothy Jordan and their children at Bushy House, part of Hampton Court’s wider estate, in his capacity as Ranger of Bushy Park. After his eventual marriage in 1818, he continued to live there, entertaining his neighbours and hosting balls and dinners at home, and as president of the ‘Toy Club’ at the Toy Inn tavern next to Trophy Gate, the main entrance to the palace grounds. The Times of 25 August reported great celebrations and fireworks in Hampton on his accession in 1830, and while the king and queen now moved back to London, Queen Adelaide was appointed Ranger and returned to live at Bushy House after her husband’s death. Hampton Court’s resident historian Ernest Law later ascribed William IV’s interest in the palace to his long association with the locality and claimed, ‘It was he, who seems first to have conceived the idea of making it a sort of receptacle or museum, for the many curious pictures which had hitherto been stored away, out of sight, in the other royal palaces.’50 An 1832 survey of Hampton Court reported that, ‘Considering the age and great extent of these buildings, they may be considered in a good state and secure’, whereas several of the state apartments at Kensington, largely disused since the death of George II there in 1760, ‘still remain in a very dilapidated condition, and to be made tenantable require considerable repair.’51 William IV may not have known ‘a picture from a window-shutter’ but he had the vision to at least order that the unwanted pictures be hung up at Hampton Court.52 Between 1833 and 1838, over 600 pictures arrived at the palace: Section v of Seguier’s catalogue had begun listing all of the paintings in the State Apartments but had been abandoned, presumably when it became clear that the pictures were to be enormously supplemented and re-arranged. Section vi was entitled ‘Catalogue of His Majesty’s Pictures 1835’ and represented a completely new list for the palace incorporating the new arrivals. Seguier’s annotations throughout the catalogue recorded the dates when pictures were moved from Kensington and elsewhere. Seguier’s involvement can also be traced through the invoices he submitted throughout the 1830s to the Lord Chamberlain, which included his travelling expenses to Hampton Court and Kensington ‘to superintend the removal of pictures’, as well as the costs associated with cleaning and varnishing an array of pictures on site before they were hung up in their new home. The heavy lifting was done by contracted tradesmen, including Samuel Evans, joiner and chair-maker, who was paid in 1833 for ‘unloading five caravan loads containing 204 pictures at different times that came from Kensington Palace, dusting, cleaning and sorting out the same and carrying into separate state rooms as directed . . . unhanging sundry pictures in several of the rooms, dusting, moving and rehanging in other rooms and hanging pictures that came from other of the palaces, in various rooms at different times.’53 At least 400 of the new arrivals made their way straight on to the walls of the State Apartments with battens fixed over tapestries and covered by wallpaper, with pictures hung from cornice to chair-rail. By the late 1830s, Hampton Court’s interiors had been entirely transformed, its remaining furnishings displayed behind railings, the integrity of its interior architecture obscured by paintings on every wall. The identity of Hampton Court as an art gallery, rather than an unfashionable and unloved royal residence, was firmly established.54 The royal public at Hampton Court: identity and ownership Even though Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle remained the focus for royal projects and successive Surveyors of the King’s Pictures throughout the later eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Hampton Court Palace was not ignored. Its art collection was surveyed, discussed and visited. Art, indeed, was central to the public experience of the palace: Hampton Court may have been part of the domestic version of the Grand Tour, a perambulation around the historic monuments and residences of Britain, but it was the art that tourists came to see. Bickham’s Deliciae Britannicae of 1742 eschewed almost all mention of the palace’s history and unfashionable Tudor and Baroque architecture. Instead, the guidebook concentrated on providing an introduction to the works of art within the State Apartments, ‘attempted, with a view . . . to inform the judgments of those, who have but the least taste for the art of painting’,55 and prefaced with a long exposition on art history. Later guidebooks followed a similar pattern, even those with alternative primary objectives: The Epicure’s Almanack found time, between describing refreshment opportunities at local inns, to comment on the paintings at Hampton Court, including Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ and asserting ‘out of whom, if you do not fix upon Miss Pitt as the most beautiful, you must certainly be set down as no connoisseur.’56 Such light humour hints at the more acerbic criticism of aristocratic visitors who might be concerned with the social performance of polite tourism rather than a proper study of art. Walpole recorded how the celebrated Georgian socialites, Elizabeth and Maria Gunning, reportedly mistook themselves as the centre of attention when Mary Taylor, the Hampton Court housekeeper, announced to a different tour group, ‘This way, ladies, here are the Beauties.’57 More seriously, Joshua Reynolds complained about the superficiality of self-appointed virtuosi, recalling a recent visit to Hampton Court with a connoisseur ‘just returned from Italy’ whose verbose ‘cant of criticism’ was ‘emitted with that volubility which generally those orators have who annex no ideas to their words.’58 Raphael’s Cartoons were the epitome of taste. Jonathan Richardson’s The Theory of Painting of 1715 ‘time and again summoned the Cartoons as supreme examples of invention, expression, composition’,59 and this was the position they retained in British art historiography throughout the century and beyond (Fig. 4). The exhaustive multi-volume The Beauties of England and Wales declared in 1816: ‘They constitute the great pictorial boast, not only of this regal building but of the country to which the care of preserving them has devolved.’60 Every guidebook of the eighteenth century highlighted the Cartoons as the aesthetic climax to a day at Hampton Court, reinforcing ‘the penetration of a work of art into a national consciousness’.61 Access to the Cartoons was therefore imperative and part of a wider debate about the nation’s cultural assets and its cultural sophistication. Fig. 4. View largeDownload slide Between 1816 and 1819, the loan of Raphael’s Cartoons to the British Institution enabled artists to admire, study and copy them. The artist Benjamin Haydon was not alone in lauding their beauty, even their ‘truth’, and copies of the Cartoons by Haydon’s pupils, including the Landseers, were exhibited next to the originals. Such unabashed admiration and the relative limitations of the copyists were easy targets for satire, evidenced in this etching by John Bailey, published in 1818. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 4. View largeDownload slide Between 1816 and 1819, the loan of Raphael’s Cartoons to the British Institution enabled artists to admire, study and copy them. The artist Benjamin Haydon was not alone in lauding their beauty, even their ‘truth’, and copies of the Cartoons by Haydon’s pupils, including the Landseers, were exhibited next to the originals. Such unabashed admiration and the relative limitations of the copyists were easy targets for satire, evidenced in this etching by John Bailey, published in 1818. © The Trustees of the British Museum. The removal of the Cartoons to Buckingham House in 1763 was, controversial. In 1777, John Wilkes railed against George III in the House of Commons: [William III] built the princely suite of apartments at Hampton Court, on purpose for the reception of these heavenly guests [the Cartoons]. The English nation were then admitted to the rapturous enjoyment of their beauties . . . At present they are perishing in a late baronet’s smoky house at the end of a great smoky town. They are entirely secreted from the public eye . . . Can there be, Sir, a greater mortification to any English gentleman of taste, than to be thus deprived of . . . the pride of our island, as an invaluable national treasure, as a common blessing, not as private property?62 Britain did not have a national collection in the eighteenth century, still less a gallery to put it in, but it did have a royal collection that some began to see as a national treasure. There was a perception that this ought to be accessible to all, or at least all those educated to an appropriate degree of artistic sophistication. George IV did not necessarily disagree. Between 1816 and 1819, as Prince Regent, he authorized the loan of all of the Cartoons to the British Institution (two each year, followed by the seventh of the series in 1819). As king, George remained a beneficent lender, authorizing loans from Hampton Court (as well as other royal palaces) to the British Institution in 1820, 1822 and 1824, followed in 1826 and 1827 by two great exhibitions at the same location devoted entirely to works from the Royal Collection. The British Institution had been established in 1805, with William Seguier its first ‘Superintendent’ and the Prince Regent as patron; its promotion of British contemporary art inspired its alternative name of the British Gallery but loan exhibitions were ‘drawn largely from noble collections and organised under aristocratic patronage.’63 Private ownership (and the reflected glory of being perceived as a great collector) remained the norm; Linda Colley has argued that the British Institution ‘allowed patricians to influence the development of British art without conceding a national gallery, which might seem to challenge the principle of private ownership.’64 The collection at Hampton Court therefore remained a precious public resource for cultural tourists, connoisseurs and artists (Fig. 5). Raphael’s Elymas cartoon was lent to the Royal Academy in 1821, and Christ’s Charge to St Peter followed in 1822 ‘for the use of the painting school during the ensuing season.’65 Artists also travelled frequently to the palace to sketch or copy paintings on display. Permission needed to be sought in advance, and the Lord Chamberlain’s warrant books and out-letters contain numerous instructions to the palace Housekeeper to allow artists particular access to specific works of art. John Godefroy visited in 1820 to copy Giulio Romano’s Battle of Constantine and Elizabeth Seymour was told ‘to allow him a room to draw in’. Others were not so fortunate: Julia Jacques was allowed to copy Lotto’s portrait of Andrea Odoni, ‘but it is on no account to be taken down’.66 Fig. 5. View largeDownload slide In 1824, the artist John Scarlett Davis was asked to copy paintings in the Royal Collection for a proposed book. This painting by Davis, similar to later works by the artist depicting gallery and historic interiors, shows what is presumably Davis’s palette and easel in front of Raphael’s Cartoons, whilst well-heeled tourists stroll through the State Apartments, led by the palace Housekeeper. © Herefordshire Museum Service. Fig. 5. View largeDownload slide In 1824, the artist John Scarlett Davis was asked to copy paintings in the Royal Collection for a proposed book. This painting by Davis, similar to later works by the artist depicting gallery and historic interiors, shows what is presumably Davis’s palette and easel in front of Raphael’s Cartoons, whilst well-heeled tourists stroll through the State Apartments, led by the palace Housekeeper. © Herefordshire Museum Service. Copying the Cartoons for artistic inspiration and edification had been widespread since the early 1700s, but they were also copied for engraved reproduction. Nicolas Dorigny’s engravings of the Cartoons, completed in 1719, cost 5 guineas and Thomas Holloway’s elaborate prints, produced over thirty years in the early 1800s, were similarly expensive, but cheaper sets were also available. John Faber, meanwhile, published a set of mezzotints of Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ in the 1720s, and other popular subjects followed. The commercial art world encouraged mass consumption and the enormous late-eighteenth-century increase in inexpensive copperplate book illustration and in the marketing of affordable prints made art accessible to the middle-classes. Old Master paintings and modern pictures by British portraitists and topographical artists were printed and circulated in this way. Not only histories and guidebooks but also novels and biographies became increasingly enlivened by illustrations, many of which centred on a canon of British authors, subjects and locations and, as John Brewer has argued, ‘capitalised on the growing sense of a British national heritage, a history and culture whose recovery was important in shaping a sense of British identity.’67 As Adrian Tinniswood has described, the early 1800s saw tourists ‘chase through every county in pursuit of culture, antiquity and romance’,68 the ‘patriotic pleasure’ of visiting the past, alongside a pride in Britain’s more recent achievements and cultural capital. Horace Walpole was reduced to hiding in his bedchamber at Strawberry Hill, cursing the popularity of nearby Hampton Court, while his housekeeper showed ever-larger groups around his home. Many owners began to formalize arrangements for house opening, even issuing tickets in advance, often with sets of rules attached. At the same time, visitors’ expectations and demands for an informed tour as well as authoritative accounts of the works on display outgrew the abilities of most housekeepers and their staff. Catalogues and guidebooks were published to accompany a visit, rather than the larger more expensive, less portable commemorative volumes, designed for gentlemen’s libraries rather than practical use. The popular and cheap Stranger’s Guide to Hampton Court Palace first appeared in about 1817, and could be bought at the King’s Guard Chamber at the start of the palace tour, the price of which had now been set as 1 shilling. The visitor profile changed too. The Morning Post of 2 August 1833 described how, Within the last week the visitors to the Royal Palace at Hampton Court have been numerous beyond precedent. On Sunday, upon a moderate computation, there could not have been less than 1,000. The line of vehicles of every description extended from the side entrance nearly the whole length of the wall . . . Several persons of distinction mixed with the promenaders, who consisted for the most part of plain citizens with their families.69 Earlier, in 1814, Joseph Farington, at the palace to study the Cartoons with the then Surveyor of the King’s Pictures, the artist Benjamin West, as well as Thomas Lawrence and Thomas Holloway the engraver, had remarked that, ‘Many of the country people and from London dressed in Sunday attire came in large parties to see the palace.’70 The palace that these new visitors came to see was gradually being reshaped and re-imagined for its new audience. Instead of a furtive glimpse into a current royal residence, tourists were presented with a celebration of the royal past. In 1833, West’s seven large history paintings, including The Death of General Wolfe – a popular and patriotic work ‘glorifying English heroism, sacrifice and victory’71 – were moved from Buckingham House to Hampton Court where they were hung alongside the artist’s portraits of George III and his family. By the 1840s, Edward Jesse, Deputy-Surveyor General of the Royal Parks and Palaces, had transformed the empty Great Hall into his vision of Tudor England, complete with arms and armour, banners, tapestries and heraldic stained glass. Artists including Joseph Nash and James Digman Wingfield employed Hampton Court as the stage-set for their romanticized views of historic royal scenes. Visitors were encouraged to imagine the past of ‘Merry England’, a kind of bucolic fantasy stripped of modernism, a vanished way of life, history tinged with nostalgia and legend: in the early nineteenth century, you could even see Cardinal Wolsey’s shoes, as if left behind in a hurry by the tragic anti-hero of Hampton Court’s Tudor history.72 Meanwhile, public access to art became the subject for debate in the House of Commons. Between 1835 and 1836, the Select Committee on Arts and their Connextion with Manufactures, chaired by the progressive Liberal mp William Ewart, interrogated artists, administrators, manufacturers and business leaders, with the aim of improving training and national appreciation of all strands of artistic production. The committee’s deliberations in particular challenged the exclusive role of the Royal Academy over artistic instruction and exhibitions. For some, the Academy represented élitism and a restrictive approach to art production and access. The artist Benjamin Haydon, one of the Academy’s most vociferous critics, claimed that ‘The artists are at the mercy of a despotism whose unlimited power tends to destroy all feeling for right or justice; forty men do as they please.’73 This influence extended beyond the walls of the Academy, as another artist George Foggo submitted, ‘No student is permitted to draw at the British Museum without a recommendation from an Academician; to copy any of His Majesty’s pictures in any of the palaces usually requires a warrant from the Lord Chamberlain; to copy the cartoons at Hampton Court, a warrant cost me £4 [and] some shillings.’74 At the same time, William Seguier’s stewardship of the National Gallery was criticized, for the condition of some of the works on display, and for the lack of any coherent acquisition policy. The Committee was astonished that Seguier himself had never been to Italy, either to buy works or simply to acquire the appropriate qualifications for curating Italian art in Britain. The National Gallery had opened in 1824 but was open to the public during the day only from Monday to Thursday; while its planned new home in Trafalgar Square would be, it was agreed, too small to house the nation’s most important works of art (notably Raphael’s Cartoons) and where the National Gallery would be forced to share space with the Royal Academy. The committee’s recommendations included the development of an acquisitions strategy and conservation regime, catalogues and increased opening hours. Elsewhere, there was a vision for provincial galleries across the nation alongside centrally supported schools of design, and the abolition of ‘vexatious’ and ‘discreditable’ entrance fees to historic buildings. Nineteenth-century reformists on the Select Committee of 1835–6 believed that access to art was a means of improving the morals of the nation: mention was made of ‘Men who are usually called “mob”; but they cease to become mob when they get a taste.’75 Portraits of illustrious British heroes, combined with rhapsodic and moralizing rhetoric in guidebooks, could inspire future generations to emulate their forefathers, stimulating intellectual confidence and industrial creativity. This created a demand for public art galleries, alongside museums and libraries, as a central element of the Victorian political and philanthropic agenda. The State Apartments at Hampton Court, full of national treasures and important historic pictures, were an obvious ready-made solution to the challenge of improving public access to art. William IV’s decision to remove all the unhung paintings at Kensington Palace, as well as the majority of what was no longer required at Windsor Castle and elsewhere, to Hampton Court was, according to Georg Scharf, director of the National Portrait Gallery, ‘to have them shown to better advantage, and to enable the public to participate in these advantages.’76 After her accession in 1837, as Simon Thurley has stated, Queen Victoria ‘probably felt that the easiest way . . . was to open the palace to the public, for free.’77 Conclusion In 1843, under his pseudonym Felix Summerly, the great Victorian arts administrator and reformer Henry Cole published the second edition of his guidebook to Hampton Court Palace. He felt the need to insert a new introduction that explained how the State Apartments had originally been furnished in 1700 for William III, because, since then, ‘Hampton Court may be considered to have been the great storehouse, or receptacle . . . for all the pictures – the rejected of the other palaces.’78 Criticism of the picture hang would increase and broaden over the mid-nineteenth century, as the limitations of Hampton Court as an art gallery became apparent to a more professional curatorial audience. Yet, as Cole’s text reveals, the picture hang had never been designed along connoisseurial principles, but had emerged, partly at least, as the result of changes in royal priorities elsewhere. George III and George IV, certainly, had retained their preferred artistic treasures at Buckingham House and Windsor Castle. The rebuilding and refurbishment programmes at these royal residences had a direct impact on the hangs at Hampton Court, measured both by what they took away and what they ultimately presented back to the palace as the unwanted residue of the Royal Collection. The importance of Raphael’s Cartoons, however, obscured this history. Their fame and public profile helped establish the art collection at Hampton Court as an important national treasure in the mid-eighteenth century. Art remained the main reason for visiting the palace throughout this period and it was the existence of the art collection in the State Apartments that became the focus of demands for greater public access in the nineteenth century. Increasingly, the prized artistic assets of the Royal Collection were identified as national treasures, not to be squirrelled away in private royal apartments, but shared and enjoyed by everyone. The best paintings should rather be on permanent display, ideally in a public gallery, as the 1836 Select Committee recommended for the Cartoons. This was part of a more general trend that witnessed ‘an early formulation of the concept of a nation’s heritage, of individual buildings [and their collections] existing somehow in the public domain.’79 By this point, Hampton Court Palace itself was no longer an actively used royal residence: as Brewer’s Beauties of England and Wales explained in 1816, ‘Correctness of taste must be supposed likely to induce the monarch to prefer the magnificent boldness of Windsor Castle to the level verdure of Hampton.’80 Instead, the palace and its Tudor ghosts were part of British history, which ought to be made accessible to the general public, inspired to visit the palace in increasing numbers by historic novels, engraved illustrations and elegiac travel books. Ultimately, the free public galleries at Hampton Court allowed the monarchy to provide access to a large proportion of its art collection, whilst retaining ownership and curatorial control. There was the added benefit too of ceding financial responsibility for the collection, and the palace itself, to central government, specifically the Office of Works, although disputes over authority and expenditure would re-occur throughout the nineteenth century and beyond. Some historians have seen this as a disingenuous sleight-of-hand, where royal property became ‘in some magical and strictly intangible way the people’s property also’, merely by being made more accessible.81 Arguably, as Giles Waterfield has suggested, the fact that the Royal Collection remained largely unpublished with no authoritative printed catalogues until the mid-nineteenth century, demonstrated a ‘long-standing reticence [that] epitomised the royal family’s resolution that their works of art should remain, legally and intellectually, private.’82 The Royal Collection today is no longer a collection owned by the monarch as a private individual; it is ‘held in trust by The Queen as Sovereign for her successors and the nation’. This phraseology is nonetheless a modern restyling of this nineteenth-century concept of shared ownership, a model established by the transformation of Hampton Court Palace from a royal residence into a public art gallery between 1737 and 1838. Supplementary information An online appendix to this paper at jhc.oxfordjournals.org presents a complete transcription of sections v and vi of rcin 1112942, William Seguier’s inventory of the paintings at Hampton Court Palace in 1835. This provides a record of the picture hang in the State Apartments at Hampton Court just before the palace was opened to the general public in 1838. Acknowledgements I am enormously grateful to the Surveyor of The Queen’s Pictures, Desmond Shawe-Taylor, and to Oliver Urquhart Irvine, Librarian of Royal Collection Trust, for granting me access to the unpublished inventories and catalogues of the Royal Collection in the Surveyor’s office at St James’s Palace, and for permission to publish the transcription of William Seguier’s inventories of the royal collection at Hampton Court Palace. I am also deeply indebted to Lucy Whitaker and Wendy Hitchmough for reading a draft of this paper and for their specific and general suggestions and advice. Finally, I would also like to thank Hannah Litvack, Stephen Patterson, Alex Buck, Carly Collier and the late Giles Waterfield, as well as the staff of the National Archives, National Art Library, British Library and Royal Archives for their assistance during the course of this research. Quotations from the Royal Archives are given with the permission of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Notes and references Footnotes 1 The oft-repeated anecdote about George II boxing the ears of a young George III somewhere in the State Apartments originates from J. Heneage Jesse, Memoirs of the Life and Reign of King George the Third (London, 1867), vol. ii, p. 11. The event was apparently described by the Duke of Sussex, George III’s son, when he visited Hampton Court. 2 William IV reportedly described Hampton Court Palace as ‘the quality poor-house’ according to Ernest Law, History of Hampton Court Palace(1885–91), vol. iii: In Orange and Guelph time (1891), p. 332. 3 These general narratives have been expertly documented in Simon Thurley, Hampton Court Palace: A social and architectural history (London and New Haven, 2003) and in Oliver Millar, The Queen’s Pictures (London, 1977) and The Later Georgian Pictures in the Collection of H.M. The Queen (London, 1969). 4 Recent analysis of Georgian political, cultural and court history can be found in John Brewer, The Pleasures of the Imagination: English culture in the eighteenth century (London, 1997); Hannah Smith, Georgian Monarchy: Politics and culture, 1716–60 (Cambridge, 2006), and Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the nation 1707–1837 (London, 1992). 5 H. M. Colvin (ed.), The History of the King’s Works (London, 1963–82), vol. v: 1660–1782 (1976), pp. 175–82. Colvin provides a comprehensive referenced summary of the building works at the royal palaces. 6 London and Country Journal, 10 April 1739; Universal Spectator and Weekly Journal, 22 February 1746. Both retrieved from the online resource, Gale News Vault, 17th and 18th Century Burney Collection. 7 National Archives (hereafter, na), ls 9/161. This book contains the bills of fare, listing all the meals prepared for the royal family in 1749. There are no other entries for Hampton Court after 1737, although some of the volumes for the 1750s are incomplete or missing entirely. 8 Law, op. cit. (note 2), pp. 283–4. Law’s source, however, is Horace Walpole’s Reminiscences, written in 1788 and first published in 1805, and Walpole is referring to Richmond not Hampton Court. 9 George Bickham, Deliciae Britannicae; Or the curiosities of Hampton-Court and Windsor-Castle, delineated with occasional reflections (London, 1742), p. 103. Bickham’s guidebook was the first to describe the interiors of Hampton Court in detail. 10 The long-serving Thomas Fort died in 1745 and was succeeded as Clerk of Works by John Vardy, replaced the following year by Stephen Wright, with William Rice superseding the latter in 1758. 11 na, lc 9/290–292. 12 na, work 4/10: 5, 10 July 1750; 11 June 1751. 13 Bickham, op. cit. (note 9), p. 31. The weaponry also seems to have been updated: while the displays broadly remained the same, by the early nineteenth century, the muskets, carbines, pistols and swords were late eighteenth- or early nineteenth-century issues. See ‘The King’s Apartments’, Apollo 140 no. 390 (1994), pp. 61–2. 14 na, lc 9/13. Bill book for the Great Wardrobe: 1744–5, items 18–20. 15 Officially titled the ‘Under Housekeeper’, Somerset English died in 1741 and was replaced by Mary Magdalen Taylor. John Turner, Keeper of the Privy Lodgings and Standing Wardrobe, died in 1753 and was succeeded by Taylor, who surrendered her position as Housekeeper to Anne Mostyn, who was followed after her death in 1759 by her sister Elizabeth. 16 As well as becoming the residence of the Master of the Horse, Stud House was extensively used, particularly later in the century by the Prince Regent, as a place for private dining and entertainment: over £7,000 was spent in improving the accommodation between 1817 and 1821. 17 Colvin, op. cit. (note 5) and vol. vi: 1782–1851 (1973), pp. 329–39. 18 Walpole to Lord Hertford, 27 August 1764, in, ed. W. H. Lewis, The Yale Edition of Horace Walpole’s Correspondence (New Haven, 1937–83), vol. 38, p. 435. Gloucester was succeeded in the house by George III’s son, Edward, Duke of Kent, who petitioned, unsuccessfully, for substantial renovations to the Pavilions. On Kent’s death in 1820, two of the four buildings were demolished. 19 Public Ledger, 2 July 1765; Burney Collection, op. cit. (note 6). 20 As part of a wider economy drive across the Royal Household, the posts of Under Housekeeper and Keeper of the Privy Lodgings were combined to form a single post of Housekeeper in 1782. Elizabeth Mostyn, who had been Housekeeper until 1762 and then Keeper until 1782 was the first of the new breed (Mary Anderson, Housekeeper from 1762 to 1782, was pensioned off). Mostyn was succeeded by Mary Keet in 1785, followed by Lady Anne Cecil in 1803 and Lady Elizabeth Seymour in 1813. 21 George III to Lord Grenville, 20 January 1795 in The Manuscripts of J. B. Fortescue [formerly] preserved at Dropmore, (Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts, 1899–1927), vol. iii, p. 10. 22 na, t 29/67, fol. 434: 14 February 1795. 23 na, ls 8/205, 209, 213, 217, 221, for the years 1795–99: there are no books for the years 1800–2. 24 The Diary of Joseph Farington (New Haven and London, 1978–98), vol. iii, ed. K. Garlick and A. MacIntyre (1979), pp. 701–2 (24 November 1796). 25 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. viii, ed. K. Cave (1982), p. 2866 (29 September 1806). 26 The Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke, ed. J. A. Home (Edinburgh, 1889–96), vol. iii, p. 242. 27 Queen Victoria’s Journal (online edition, retrieved 4 November 2015): Royal Archives, vic/main,/qvj (w), 27 August 1836, Claremont. 28 ‘Vertue i’, Journal of the Walpole Society 18 (1930), pp. 12–13. Interestingly, Stephen Slaughter, the Surveyor of the King’s Pictures 1745–65, was not involved. Knapton became Surveyor in 1765 for Frederick’s son, George III, succeeded by Richard Dalton in 1778 and afterwards Benjamin West in 1791. 29 ‘Vertue 3’, Walpole Society 22 (1934), p. 154. 30 Part 2 of Vertue’s catalogue is entitled ‘Extract of an Inventory of His Majesty’s Pictures at his Palace of Hampton Court, in the charge of the Housekeeper, 1750’: rcin 1112785 (also known as ‘Millar 30’). 31 George III’s plans for his new residence are discussed in Francis Russell, ‘King George III’s picture hang at Buckingham House’, Burlington Magazine 129, no. 1013 (1987), pp. 524–31. 32 na, ao 1/420/200. Account roll of the Treasurer of the Chamber, Michaelmas 1762 – Michaelmas 1763. 33 Walpole to George Montagu, 25 May 1762, in Lewis, op. cit. (note 18), vol. 10, p. 33. 34 Paget Toynbee (ed.), ‘Horace Walpole’s Journals of Visits to Country Seats, etc.’, Walpole Society 16 (1928), p. 80: 12 September 1784. 35 Slaughter received payments in 1764 for hanging pictures at Hampton Court in place of the Cartoons, taking down large pictures at Kensington, and cleaning and repairing several pictures there and two large pictures at Somerset House, and for ‘directing the hanging’ of several of these pictures at Hampton Court: na, lc 5/168, pp. 304, 330; Lord Chamberlain’s Warrant Book for 1761–5. 36 rcin 1112546 is an inventory in the Royal Collection, also known as ‘Millar 36’ and dated c.1776. The manuscript contains several lists from various palaces, bound together, with the Hampton Court catalogue appearing between fols 101 and 135v. The paintings listed in this inventory certainly record the same picture moves noticed by Walpole by 1784. 37 As well as George III’s demands for Buckingham House, some of the internal movements of works of art at the palace may have been driven by the expansion of private residential accommodation: the king’s private closets became part of a Grace-and-Favour apartment, necessitating the removal of the paintings upstairs, and the Admirals Gallery (in what is now known as the Communication Gallery) may have been disassembled, with the paintings rehung in the King’s Guard Chamber, for similar reasons. 38 rcin 918068: the drawing, c.1800, is reproduced in Thurley, op. cit. (note 3), p. 311, where it is attributed to George III himself, but it is now assigned only to ‘British School’. 39 rcin 1112541 (‘Millar 39’): ‘A Catalogue of Pictures sent from the Queen’s Palace, St James’s, Kensington and Hampton Court Palaces, and Kew House, to His Majesty’s at Windsor Castle, 1804 and 1805’. 40 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 6, ed. K. Garlick and A. MacIntyre (1979), pp. 2399 (30 August 1804), 2415 (24 September 1804). 41 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 10, ed. K. Cave (1982), p. 3695 (21 July 1810). In 1797, the old furniture erected for George I’s theatre in the Great Hall had been dismantled and removed. 42 Mark Evans, Princes as Patrons (London, 1998), p. 70. 43 H. Wyndham (ed.), The Correspondence of Sarah Spencer, Lady Lyttelton (London, 1911), pp. 103–4. 44 Anna Jameson, A Handbook to the Public Galleries of Art (London, 1842), p. 287. Christopher White, Dutch Pictures in the Collection of Her Majesty The Queen (London, 2015) contains the most recent summary of George IV’s collecting and occasional disposal of works of art from the Royal Collection, including the sale of seventy-five Dutch and Flemish pictures at Christie’s in 1814. 45 W. B. Pope (ed.). The Diary of Benjamin Robert Haydon (Cambridge, ma, 1960–63), vol. iii, p. 455: 10 June 1830. 46 F. P. Seguier, ‘Dictionary of Monograms and Identified Paintings’, vol. 4, Series 1: unpublished manuscript, British Library, Additional ms 38799, fols 42-68v. A fuller account of Seguier, and the views of his contemporaries, can be found in Alastair Laing, ‘William Seguier and advice to picture collectors’, in Studies in the History of Painting Restoration, ed. Christine Sitwell and Sarah Staniforth (London, 1998), pp. 97–120. 47 The online appendix to this article presents a full transcription and description of Sections v and vi of Seguier’s catalogue, rcin 1112942 (‘Millar 48’). 48 Jameson, op. cit. (note 44), p. 220. 49 O. Fryman (ed.), Kensington: Palace of the Modern Monarchy (forthcoming, 2018) will assemble the most recent scholarship on the history of Kensington Palace and its interiors. 50 Law, op. cit. (note 2), vol. iii, pp. 342–43. 51 na, work 19/25/1: ‘Report upon the State and Condition of Hampton Court and Kensington Palaces, in consequence of a survey made in September 1832,’ signed by Henry Hake-Seward. Seward was appointed Surveyor of Works and Buildings in that same year. William Rice (see note 10) had been replaced as Clerk of Works for the palace in 1789 by Thomas Tildesley, followed by Thomas Rice in 1808, Thomas Hardwick in 1810 and Lewis Wyatt in 1829. 52 Mrs Uwins, A Memoir of Thomas Uwins (London, 1858), vol. ii, pp. 269–70. Uwins was Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures from 1844 to 1857. 53 na, lc 11/82, fols 224, 35v. This is a volume of ‘Tradesmen’s Bills’, October–December 1833; there are similar returns in previous and subsequent volumes. 54 For a full discussion of the picture hang of the 1830s, Seguier’s role and the subsequent history of the picture galleries in the State Apartments, see: Brett Dolman, ‘Curating the Royal Collection at Hampton Court Palace in the nineteenth century’, Journal of the History of Collections, 29 (2017), pp. 271–90. 55 Bickham, op. cit. (note 9), frontispiece. 56 Ralph Rylance, The Epicure’s Almanack (London, 1815), p. 233. 57 Walpole to Sir Horace Mann, 31 August 1751, in Lewis, op. cit. (note 18), vol. 20, p. 272. 58 The Idler (London, 1761), vol. ii, no. 76, pp. 130–5 (29 September 1759). 59 Arline Meyer, Apostles in England: Sir James Thornhill and the legacy of Raphael’s tapestry cartoons (New York, 1996), p. 47. Meier, together with John Shearman, Raphael’s Cartoons in the Collection of Her Majesty The Queen and the Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel (London, 1972) provide a comprehensive account of the Cartoons in England. 60 J. Norris Brewer, The Beauties of England and Wales: or, original delineations, topographical, historical and descriptive of each county (1801–1815), vol. x, part iv (London, 1816), p. 475. 61 Shearman, op. cit. (note 59), p. 152. 62 William Cobbett, The Parliamentary History of England (London, 1806–20), vol. 19 (1814), cols. 190ff. 63 Giles Waterfield, The People’s Galleries: Art museums and exhibitions in Britain 1800–1914 (London and New Haven, 2015), p. 15. 64 Colley, op. cit. (note 4), pp. 176–7. 65 na, lc 5/248/28: James Graham, Duke of Montrose and Lord Chamberlain to Lady Elizabeth Seymour, Housekeeper of Hampton Court, 19 July 1822. 66 na, lc 5/248/11: Francis Ingram-Seymour-Conway, Marquess of Hertford and Lord Chamberlain, to Lady Elizabeth Seymour, 18 September 1820; na, lc 5/249/15: William Martins, Clerk of the Cheque to the Messengers, to Sarah Grundy, Deputy Housekeeper, 9 December 1835. 67 Brewer, op. cit. (note 4), p. 463. 68 Adrian Tinniswood, The Polite Tourist: A history of country house visiting (London, 1998), p. 91. 69 Morning Post no. 19548, 2 August 1833, p. 5. British Library Newspapers. 70 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 13, ed. K. Cave (1984), pp. 4575–76 (28 August 1814). 71 Robert C. Alberts, Benjamin West: A biography (Boston, ma, 1978), p. 109. 72 Law, op. cit. (note 2), pp. 324–5. Law is dubious about the shoes’ authenticity, ‘As the upper leather had been renewed at one time, and the sole at another, its claim to reverence was of a somewhat impalpable kind.’ Nearby, Horace Walpole was the proud owner of Cardinal Wolsey’s hat. 73 Report from the Select Committee on Arts and their Connexion with Manufactures with the Minutes of Evidence, Appendix and Index (House of Commons, 1836), part ii, p. 89. 74 Ibid, pp. 119–20. 75 Report from the Select Committee on National Monuments and Works of Art; with the Minutes of Evidence, and Appendix (House of Commons, 1841), p. 91. Quoted in Janet Minihan, The Nationalization of Culture (London, 1977), p. 89. 76 Georg Scharf, ‘Royal picture galleries’, in Old London. Papers read at the London Congress of the Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, July 1866 (London, 1867), p. 373. 77 Thurley, op. cit. (note 3), p. 317. 78 Felix Summerly [Henry Cole], A Handbook for the Architecture, Tapestries, Paintings, Gardens, and Grounds of Hampton Court, 4th edn (London, 1849), p. 85. Cole’s criticisms should be read within the context of his ambitions to remove the finer paintings in the Royal Collection at Hampton Court to the South Kensington Museum. On this, and the subsequent history of the Hampton Court State Apartments and their picture galleries, see Dolman, op. cit. (note 54). 79 Tinniswood, op. cit. (note 68), p. 122. 80 Norris Brewer, op. cit. (note 60), p. 456. 81 Colley, op. cit. (note 4), pp. 176–7. 82 Waterfield, op. cit. (note 63), p. 12. © The Author 2017. Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Journal of the History of Collections Oxford University Press

From a royal residence to a royal collection: The state apartments at Hampton Court Palace, 1737–1838

Loading next page...
 
/lp/ou_press/from-a-royal-residence-to-a-royal-collection-the-state-apartments-at-AxHY3n089X
Publisher
Oxford University Press
Copyright
© The Author 2017. Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved.
ISSN
0954-6650
eISSN
1477-8564
D.O.I.
10.1093/jhc/fhx040
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Abstract This article uses the manuscript inventories of the Royal Collection, alongside published hand-lists and guidebooks, to establish what was on display at Hampton Court, and in which rooms, between 1737 and 1838. This period saw the transformation of the palace from a royal residence into an art museum. The importance of the palace’s collection of paintings, centred on Raphael’s Cartoons, effected this change, within the context of a growing debate about access to national treasures. In the 1830s, over 500 paintings from other royal palaces were moved to Hampton Court and the palace was opened to the general public. The history behind the decisions that created one of the first free picture galleries in England is examined. Hampton Court Palace changed its identity from royal residence to historic monument and art gallery between 1737 and 1838. The history of this period is frequently explained by simplistic assertions that George II abandoned the palace after the death of Queen Caroline, while Queen Victoria later decided to open Hampton Court to the public as an act of philanthropic largesse. The palace’s history during the century in between these two events is poorly documented, yet it witnessed an important transformation in the perception of the palace, both by its royal owners and in the popular imagination. At the same time, the interiors of the State Apartments evolved from a late Stuart and early Georgian decorative scheme, preserved in hibernation, into an art museum and a home for hundreds of paintings from the Royal Collection: this process too is little understood, and the reasons for the change obscure. George III, supposedly disturbed by bad memories of being physically bullied at Hampton Court by his grandfather, is generally believed to have purposefully ignored the palace, never returning as king.1 Hampton Court’s furnishings and collections were removed to Windsor Castle and Buckingham House, and what was left ossified into a cavernous labyrinth of empty rooms, a Satis House presided over by the ghosts of royal past and a ‘quality poor-house’2 for the Grace-and-Favour residents allowed to stay. This article will argue that the future for the palace was by no means clear in the eighteenth century, and that attempts were made to maintain the palace as a viable royal residence, with the retention in situ of much its royal Georgian picture hang up until the 1830s. By this date, Hampton Court had finally become too unfashionable and impractical for continued royal use. However, during the previous century, the centrality of the art collection to the State Apartments, especially the hallowed status of the Raphael Cartoons at the heart of the palace, created a new audience. Here we shall trace the history of the picture hang in the State Apartments, and explore the reasons for its survival and, ultimately, how and why over 500 paintings were moved there from other palaces and their transformative effect on the identity of Hampton Court in the 1830s. Whilst the Royal Collection remained privately owned, the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries witnessed a profound change in how its works of art were perceived and experienced by the general public. These changes at Hampton Court are contextualized here within the concurrent public debate around access to ‘national treasures’, as well as historic monuments, to explain why Hampton Court became a free visitor attraction in 1838. What follows is not a general history of the Royal Collection and royal patronage or a comprehensive account of Hampton Court during this period.3 Still less is it an attempt to analyse the complex political and cultural changes of a century that saw the diminishing of the scale and influence of the royal court and the concomitant growth in Parliamentary power and demand for social and educational reform.4 All of these narratives, however, inevitably affected the particular history of Hampton Court, and help to contextualize how and why the palace changed its identity between 1737 and 1838. Hence an attempt is made here to demonstrate that there are three principal explanations behind the changes that took place there: the gradual obsolescence of the palace as a viable royal residence; the survival and importance of the Royal Collection in the State Apartments, and finally the rise of cultural tourism and patriotic sentiment that drove more visitors to Hampton Court even before the palace was freely opened to the public in 1838. The relationship and interplay between these three forces for change created the particular circumstances at Hampton Court that determined the palace’s new identity as a visitor attraction and art gallery. The royal family at Hampton Court: contingency and obsolescence The royal family spent most of the summer of 1737 at Hampton Court, only leaving on 26 October for the winter season at St James’s Palace, the official London home of the monarch throughout the Georgian period. At this point, there was no question that Hampton Court remained an actively used royal residence. It may not have been the most popular palace, nor the most politically or socially important, but it endured and retained its identity as part of the continuing royal narrative. The Queen’s Staircase had recently been decorated, and the private apartments of George II and Queen Caroline, together with the rooms appointed for their children, all expensively refurbished by William Kent; the furnishings elsewhere in the State Apartments had also been refreshed.5 Money was spent, balls were enjoyed, and the court might have looked forward to returning the following summer. The death of Queen Caroline on 20 November did not necessarily jeopardise this future. The court reporters in the gazettes and newspapers of this period often printed announcements that the royal family were expected to return to the palace: in 1739, the king was expected ‘to pass the remainder of the summer at Hampton Court’; in 1746, the palace was ordered ‘to be fitted up for the Royal Family to reside in some part of the summer’.6 Even though these particular visits did not take place, the possibility of the court returning remained. There was, certainly, no sudden removal of the principal interior furnishings or interior decorations at the palace, apart from the more portable items that often accompanied the royal court as it moved from palace to palace as part of its habitual royal progress. Nonetheless, it soon became clear that George II preferred the more domestic comforts of Richmond Lodge: summers were spent here when the king was not in Hanover and replaced a regular season at Hampton Court. Richmond had always been popular with King George: even before Queen Caroline’s death, the king had developed plans, with Kent, for a new palace there. George II’s estranged eldest son Frederick, Prince of Wales, spent his summers in the White House at Kew, or at Cliveden, with his young and growing family. Between 1737 and the death of George II in 1760, the only recorded royal visits to Hampton Court were day-trips, often only to the park, with a solitary account of the king dining at the palace on 8 July 1749: he left for St James’s Palace that evening.7 Ernest Law much later anecdotally reported that the king also travelled to Hampton Court for the day in the company of his mistress, Amelia von Malmoden, Countess of Yarmouth, but there is, perhaps unsurprisingly, no documentary record of their use of the State Apartments.8 The effect of this neglect on the interiors of the State Apartments was, in the short term, negligible. The King’s Apartments remained much as William III had left them in 1702, when the rooms had been decorated and furnished in the last years of his reign. Sixteenth-century tapestries shared space with seventeenth-century portraits, creating a sense of continuation with the royal past, while triumphal ceiling paintings by Antonio Verrio added a more contemporary baroque flourish. A large equestrian portrait of the King William by Godfrey Kneller stood opposite the canopied chair of state in the Presence Chamber, and the apartment was book-ended by a Guard Chamber dressed with a display of arms and a fully furnished State Bedchamber. In between, Raphael’s Cartoons hung in a purpose-built gallery, ‘universally admir’d, and of inestimable value.’9 The Queen’s Apartments were an admixture of baroque architecture and Georgian improvements: Queen Mary II’s own needlework hangings still decorated her Closet, while a set of early eighteenth-century Brussels tapestries telling the story of Alexander lined the Queen’s Gallery. Marble tables, silver chandeliers and sconces, rich damask furnishings, dense over-mantle arrangements of china, elaborately cut pier glasses, and gilt torchères completed an opulent interior display befitting a royal palace. There were no new extensive building campaigns, nor expensive restoration programmes; the money spent on Hampton Court during the 1740s and 1750s was not excessive, restricted principally to what was necessary for the building’s preservation. The estate was placed under the care of a Board of Works, led by a clerk and a small team of resident labourers, while Royal Household craftsmen from bricklayers to painters, locksmiths to rat-killers were employed on a list of maintenance tasks to ensure that the palace remained water-tight and habitable.10 Tradesmen’s bills from these years, including the upholsterers Sarah Lowry and William Reason and the cabinet-makers Henry Williams and Benjamin Goodison, record an annual programme of repairs to the furniture and furnishings.11 Verrio’s murals on the King’s Staircase were restored in 1750–5112 and the amassed weaponry in the King’s Guard Chamber was apparently ‘taken down to be clean’d, and are replac’d once every Year in the Spring’.13 The warrant-books of the Office of Works describe orders to the same tradesmen for ‘taking down furnitures of beds, window curtains . . . together with chests of drawers . . . several glasses and removing tables . . . and in several apartments packing them up, helping to load, and afterwards to unload the wagons, some of them being sent to Greenwich and others to Windsor’.14 There are also records, however, of furniture moving in the opposite direction, while the stores at Hampton Court retained furniture, plate and other essential items that could be easily brought back into service if required. A Housekeeper, as well as a Keeper of the Privy Lodgings and a Chaplain, continued to live at the palace, charged with looking after the building and its contents, the resident staff and the household stores.15 Outside the State Apartments, Hampton Court in fact continued to be a royal residence of sorts. George II’s second daughter, Princess Amelia, was appointed Keeper of Hampton Court in 1748 and adopted the two easternmost pavilions in the Great Park as a summer home: the outbuildings were remodelled with fashionable bow windows and refurbished with new suites of mahogany and walnut furniture supplied by Goodison, chintz-style wallpaper, upholstery and matching curtains, and French carpets. The king’s stable and stud was also based at the palace, and the buildings were repaired at some expense in 1743 and again in 1755.16 With both his daughter and his horses ensconced at the palace, George II had every reason to continue to visit Hampton Court, and with the State Apartments remaining in good order the potential of the palace as a more permanent seat of monarchy remained. The accession of George III in 1760 brought renewed expectation that Hampton Court might once again become a regular fixture on the royal calendar. Yet the new king’s own domestic preferences had been centred around his family home at Kew, and it soon became apparent that George III would not be favouring Hampton Court and was instead drawn to the acquisition in 1762 of a brand new residence that might better reflect his own architectural and aesthetically classical tastes, as well the more modern requirements of a young royal family. Buckingham House was initially envisioned, and remained explicitly identified, as the Queen’s House. It was a private royal residence, not yet the public magnet for royal identity and ceremony that it would become. George III and Queen Charlotte’s active interest in designing their new interiors and furnishing them with their own selection of works of art from the Royal Collection would, however, have direct consequences for the displays in Hampton Court’s own royal apartments. Nonetheless, a Board of Works continued to meet at Hampton Court throughout the eighteenth century; between £1,000 and £2,000 a year was spent on maintenance of the estate. Verrio’s murals were restored (again) in 1781 and 1792, and the Great Gatehouse, in danger of collapse in 1769, was completely rebuilt (although at a much reduced height).17 Hampton Court remained in good repair, and the wider palace continued to be a summer home for royal princes. Prince Henry, Duke of Cumberland and Prince William, Duke of Gloucester, younger brothers of George III, occupied the Pavilions from 1764 ‘in very private circumstances indeed’ and Gloucester continued to visit with his family until 1805.18 Occasional royal day-trips were reported in the press, and in 1765 the Count de Guerchy, the French ambassador, was at the palace ‘attended by several foreigners of distinction’.19 For the most part, however, George III restricted his public ceremonies to St James’s Palace, and his private life to Buckingham House; this trend was intensified in the later years of the eighteenth century, when the king’s health declined and the number of levees, drawings rooms and presentations decreased. With less necessity for the wider court to be in permanent attendance on the monarch, courtiers began to put down more permanent roots in particular locations. Informally at first, the old courtier lodgings at Hampton Court became the homes for those with the right connections, but without the pressing need or ambition to live in close proximity to the king. By 1773, this adoption of the palace as a Grace-and-Favour residence had become officially sanctioned, with warrants for apartments issued by the Lord Chamberlain. Grace-and-Favour residents hosted, mostly in a small way but occasionally in a quite grand fashion, the kind of entertainment familiar to those at court. Balls were held in the larger apartments alongside private dinners and celebrations. The old Chapel Royal filled up with a new congregation, competing over the best pews, and the Housekeeper was kept busy dealing with requests for more furniture and the occasional dispute.20 The State Apartments were not used by the Grace-and-Favour residents, although the footprint of more than one apartment encroached on some of the private royal apartments, notably the rooms previously inhabited in the 1730s by the younger members of the royal family in the north-east corner of Fountain Court. The biggest disruption to the peaceful hibernation of the State Apartments was the arrival in February 1795 of William V, Prince of Orange, his family and his immediate circle of advisers: a court in exile, forced to flee from the advancing French army and Dutch revolutionaries. Prince William and his retinue took over a large area of the palace around Fountain Court, and the Queen’s Guard and Presence Chambers were opened up as suitably grand reception rooms for a favoured royal relation and important diplomatic exile (Fig. 1). It was noted by the king in a letter to Lord Grenville that Hampton Court was the most appropriate destination, ‘Kensington is so totally unfurnished that it would be impossible to lodge them there.’21 Hampton Court, revealingly, was made ready in only four weeks, at a not inconsequential cost of £5,000.22 Fig. 1. View largeDownload slide A print by James Gillray from 1796, entitled The Orangerie, or, the Dutch Cupid reposing after the fatigues of planting, caricaturing William V’s luxurious residence at Hampton Court and his alleged amorous liaisons. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 1. View largeDownload slide A print by James Gillray from 1796, entitled The Orangerie, or, the Dutch Cupid reposing after the fatigues of planting, caricaturing William V’s luxurious residence at Hampton Court and his alleged amorous liaisons. © The Trustees of the British Museum. The surviving accounts of the Lord Steward’s department, charged with the care and provision of Prince William’s household while he remained at Hampton Court, reveal a luxurious diet washed down with copious bottles of port, sherry and Madeira, reminiscent of the grandest days of early Georgian residency at the palace.23 George III, who visited the prince at Hampton Court with the queen and other members of the royal family on more than one occasion, also provided a team of servants, including a housemaid, cook, porter, clerk and other domestics. Purveyors’ bills and disbursements regularly topped £1,000 per month. The artist Joseph Farington recorded in his diary that the prince had ‘every day at one o’clock a déjeune, or public breakfast of teas, coffee, cold meat and wine, to which such fashionable people as reside in the vicinity of Hampton Court and have been introduced to him and the princess go without ceremony. The prince and princess have visited several of the neighbours on evening parties to tea and cards.’24 The Prince of Orange and his family left Hampton Court for the Continent in August 1802; according to Farington, the princess ‘was so much distressed that the blinds of the carriage were drawn up to prevent Her from being seen.’25 They left behind a palace still capable of hosting a royal court and still furnished with much of the grand theatrical paraphernalia of its baroque heyday. But while in 1737 the interiors had been fashionably up-to-date, reflective of the tastes and needs of the early Georgian monarchy, they had not been modernized, aesthetically or practically. George III clearly saw them as a relic of the past, an obsolete set of rooms within an even older and antiquated palace. When, in 1770, a fire broke out in the Guard Room and Sutler’s House, the king had supposedly remarked to Lord Hertford, ‘that he should not have been sorry had it been burnt down.’26 George III’s attitudes were confirmed by George IV’s preferences for ambitious rebuilding projects at Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace, and by the time a young Princess Victoria first visited the palace in 1836, she was moved to describe ‘a very curious old palace, and the collection of pictures is beautiful.’27 It was the second part of this epithet, however, which revealed how Hampton Court’s future would be determined. The 1820s and 1830s would witness a quite dramatic reorganization of, and a public debate about access to, the Royal Collection, and this would have a direct impact on the future of the State Apartments at Hampton Court. The Royal Collection at Hampton Court: survival and transformation In 1750, Frederick, Prince of Wales visited the State Apartments at Hampton Court with his family and in the company of the connoisseur George Vertue and the artist George Knapton. Vertue’s notebooks recorded that ‘Every picture [and] painting throughout the palace was curiously examined and criticized, his Royal [Highness] taking as much delight and pains as anybody could, often asking [and] enquiring for his better information – and discovering with surprising delight and pleasure to shew his love to Art as well as his intelligence.’28 Knapton and Vertue had already visited Kensington Palace the previous week, also with Prince Frederick, and travelled on to Windsor Castle the following day. Vertue took notes, and was allowed to borrow the ‘Housekeepers’ books’ to draw up new inventories for the picture collections at each palace, as the prince had ‘desired and ordered me to get the catalogue of all those pictures, for his own use.’29 Vertue’s manuscript catalogue, The Collections of Pictures, Paintings etc at Kensington, Hampton Court and in the Castle of Windsor 1750, is not much more than an inventory, but it demonstrates that the painting hang at Hampton Court had remained virtually untouched since the 1730s.30 Vertue’s list for the State Apartments is almost identical to the paintings described in George Bickham’s Deliciae Britannicae of 1742, the first detailed guidebook to the palace, and earlier notes by Vertue himself from 1735 and 1729. As well as eighty-four pictures in the State Apartments on the first floor, Vertue also listed sixty-four paintings still in the king’s private apartments on the ground floor. This was an area of the palace that Bickham had not included in his book, apart from the ‘Beauty Room’ (now known as the King’s Private Dining Room) at the foot of the King’s Staircase where visitors could meet Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ of the court of Mary II. The survival of the royal picture collection in the private apartments argues for the continuing possibilities of Hampton Court as a viable royal residence at this stage. Prince Frederick’s death the following year robbed Hampton Court of the attentions of an enthusiastic art connoisseur, but his eldest son, George III, inherited many of his father’s interests and aspirations. The acquisition of Buckingham House and the subsequent remodelling of the building by William Chambers between 1762 and 1776 gave the king an opportunity to re-arrange the Royal Collection according to his own tastes.31 Stephen Slaughter, Surveyor of the King’s Pictures, was paid for ‘making out new lists and taking the dimensions of his Majesty’s pictures at the palaces of Kensington, Hampton Court and Windsor Castle’,32 while Horace Walpole wrote that ‘the king and his wife are settled for good and all at Buckingham House, and are stripping the other palaces to furnish it.’33 Most importantly, in December 1763, Raphael’s Cartoons were removed from Hampton Court and taken to the new royal home, along with pictures by Giulio Romano, Antonio Allegri Correggio and Paolo Veronese from the king’s private closets. Walpole wrote later in 1784 that, ‘The Cartoons and other capital pictures have been replaced by some pictures from Kensington and other palaces, and by some large but very indifferent pictures by Sebastian Ricci, Zuccarelli, and by some curious ones taken from the lower apartments’.34 The criticism seems unjust, or at least indicative of the superlative status of the Cartoons in eighteenth-century connoisseurial judgement. In 1764, Slaughter had removed a selection of significant paintings from Kensington Palace to Hampton Court, including Bassano’s The Flood, Schiavone’s The Judgment of Midas, Tintoretto’s The Muses, and Bonifazio’s The Two Holy Families, as well as the van Dyck equestrian portrait of Charles I and Rubens’s portrait of Don Rodrigo Calderon (identified at the time as the Duke of Alba).35 The king’s private closets on the ground floor were now empty, but most of these paintings had simply been moved upstairs, as Walpole makes clear, to the smaller staterooms on the principal floor (Fig. 2).36 Fig. 2. View largeDownload slide By the 1770s, the King’s Closet on the principal floor of the State Apartments was hung, for the most part, with smaller works of art removed from the king’s private apartments on the ground floor of the palace. Identifiable pictures, in this later view by Richard Cattermole, published in Pyne’s Royal Residences of 1819, include: Gibson’s portrait of Queen Henrietta Maria; Bogdani’s Peacock, Sassoferato’s Mater Dolorosa, and in prime position on the left-hand wall Bassano’s Adoration of the Shepherds. © Historic Royal Palaces. Fig. 2. View largeDownload slide By the 1770s, the King’s Closet on the principal floor of the State Apartments was hung, for the most part, with smaller works of art removed from the king’s private apartments on the ground floor of the palace. Identifiable pictures, in this later view by Richard Cattermole, published in Pyne’s Royal Residences of 1819, include: Gibson’s portrait of Queen Henrietta Maria; Bogdani’s Peacock, Sassoferato’s Mater Dolorosa, and in prime position on the left-hand wall Bassano’s Adoration of the Shepherds. © Historic Royal Palaces. Walpole, indeed, went on to add that, ‘The heads of the Admirals are well placed in the great Guard Chamber, and most are fine, and there is also a portrait of Prince George, and a view of the Colisseum by Canaletto; Joseph and his Mistress (from below) by Gentileschi, very good for him.’ Amongst other works, Walpole also singled out the following paintings for praise: van Aelst’s Dead Game and Verelst’s Bunch of Grapes; Holbein’s portrait of William Reskimer and van Dyck’s Mrs Lemon; Bronzino’s Lady in Green (at the time attributed to Sebastiano del Piombo); a portrait of Prince Henry in armour by Mytens, and a drawing of Tritons by Giuseppe Cesari. The priority remained Buckingham House, but Hampton Court had not been stripped of its works of art and the majority of the final royal hang of the 1730s still remained at the palace.37 The Cartoons, indeed, returned to Hampton Court forty years after they had been removed, the change again partly driven by royal requirements elsewhere. In 1787, limitations of space at Buckingham House had seen the Cartoons removed to Windsor Castle; by the turn of the century, work on the royal apartments at Windsor meant a new home had to be found again. A drawing survives, which shows how the Cartoons were to be hung at Hampton Court, with consideration given to Raphael’s original scheme.38 The Cartoons had defined the art collection at Hampton Court as special, ensured that important works were brought to the palace to replace them in the 1760s, that the picture hang in general was retained in the State Apartments, and ultimately brought about their own return in 1804. Nonetheless, that same year, a dozen paintings were removed from Hampton Court for the staterooms at Windsor, including three large landscapes by Francesco Zuccarelli, together with smaller paintings by Guercino, Nicolaes Berchem, Gerrit Dou and Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer, and the large van Dyck equestrian portrait of Charles I from the Cartoon Gallery.39 Joseph Farington heard from the art collector Francis Bourgeois that ‘the king has also directed that . . . all the valuable pictures of the Old Masters were to be removed from the different palaces and placed in the Great Gallery at Windsor.’40 Meanwhile, the Surveyor-General of the King’s Works, James Wyatt, visited Hampton Court along with Bourgeois and the history painter Francis Tresham to discuss possible new hangs for the palace, including the idea of creating in the Tudor Great Hall ‘a grand national Depot of Art’, featuring a work by each of the members of the Royal Academy.41 For the time being, however, the picture-hang recorded by W. H. Pyne in the gloriously illustrated Royal Residences of 1819, still remained more in tune with the historic interior decoration of the palace, with more recent additions overhanging tapestries in the larger of the State Apartments (Fig. 3). Fig. 3. View largeDownload slide A view, dating from 1819, of the ‘Second Presence Chamber’ in the King’s State Apartments (more commonly known as the King’s Eating Room), showing how the gradual addition of paintings compromised the original interior scheme of the room. Van Mander’s portrait of Christian IV above the fireplace was part of the royal hang of 1700, along with the landscapes above the doors, but the tapestries and panelling have been overhung with new additions, including van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I on horseback, and a set of four paintings by Giovanni Cipper. The transformation of Hampton Court into an art museum had already begun, and would be completed by the arrival of over 600 further paintings in the 1830s. © Historic Royal Palaces. Fig. 3. View largeDownload slide A view, dating from 1819, of the ‘Second Presence Chamber’ in the King’s State Apartments (more commonly known as the King’s Eating Room), showing how the gradual addition of paintings compromised the original interior scheme of the room. Van Mander’s portrait of Christian IV above the fireplace was part of the royal hang of 1700, along with the landscapes above the doors, but the tapestries and panelling have been overhung with new additions, including van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I on horseback, and a set of four paintings by Giovanni Cipper. The transformation of Hampton Court into an art museum had already begun, and would be completed by the arrival of over 600 further paintings in the 1830s. © Historic Royal Palaces. Windsor Castle remained the focus of royal attention throughout the early 1800s. George IV completed and expanded his father’s ambitions and this meant further extractions from Hampton Court. In 1829, statues and vases were removed from the gardens using artillery wagons, including Hubert Le Sueur’s two large bronze statues of Hercules and Antinous, and the four marble statues of Pomona, Flora, Ceres and Diana, which had been removed from the parapet on the south front of the palace in the late eighteenth century. In 1823, the king ordered that the portraits of heroic British admirals in the King’s Guard Chamber by Kneller and Michael Dahl should be sent to Greenwich Hospital; the Mytens studio portrait of the celebrated Elizabethan admiral, Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham, followed in 1825. Throughout his reign, many paintings also left the palace on loan to the British Institution in Pall Mall, for its Old Master exhibitions: in 1822 these included works by Palma Vecchio, Lorenzo Lotto and Sebastiano del Piombo, and in 1824 paintings by Orazio Gentileschi, Jacopo Bassano, Jacopo Tintoretto, Giovanni Bellini, Andrea Schiavone and Anthony van Dyck. As Prince Regent, George’s expenditure on works of art and interior decoration had been extravagant but distinguished. ‘At Carlton House, the stage sets were constantly changing’;42 Lady Sarah Spencer wrote in 1810, ‘He changes the furniture so very often, that one can scarcely find time to catch a glimpse at each transient arrangement before it is all turned off for some other.’43 Carlton House became the London home for most of the prince’s new acquisitions, but in 1827 it was demolished, considered inadequate for the needs of a king. Instead, George IV embarked on a transformation of Buckingham House from a domestic home for the royal family into a grand stage for ceremonial occasions. Combined with the long-running building campaigns at Windsor, this meant an enormous upheaval of paintings and works of art, in and out of stores and between royal residences. In 1842, Anna Jameson repeated an anecdotal report that George IV had ordered Thomas Baucutt Mash, the Deputy-Chamberlain, ‘to select from among the old pictures preserved in the palaces those which he . . . considered to be of value, and sell the rest.’44 The man now in charge of managing the Royal Collection was the picture dealer William Seguier; he had succeeded Benjamin West as Surveyor of the King’s Pictures after the latter’s death in 1820. A hostile Benjamin Haydon wrote in 1830, ‘His king does nothing without Mr Seguier’s advice. At the B[uckingham] Gallery, he is keeper, hanger, judge, secretary and factotum,’45 while a later biographical description by his nephew, Francis Seguier, claimed that the king ‘would frequently summon him to Windsor, and would detain him until a late hour of the day.’46 However, until Richard Redgrave was appointed by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1857, the surveyorship was an advisory position, light on particular duties. Its primary role was practical: to restore pictures and prepare them for hanging, as directed by the king; there was no great curatorial responsibility to research the collection or to plan complex pedagogical displays. Seguier’s manuscript ‘Catalogue of His Majesty’s Pictures’ was drawn up in the early 1820s. It is divided into six sections and lists all the paintings at Kensington, Buckingham Palace, St James’s, Kew and Hampton Court.47 At this date, there were 658 pictures at Kensington, but this figure was soon increased by a further 352 paintings removed en masse from Buckingham House ahead of the planned rebuilding programme. Seguier’s annotations in the inventory list a summary qualitative assessment of all the pictures, from ‘most capital’ to ‘indifferent’, ‘finely coloured’ and ‘in high preservation’ to ‘dark’ and ‘considerably injured’. Whether or not a mass disposition of some of the lesser works at Kensington was ever seriously considered, nothing had been done by the time of George IV’s death in 1830 and the pictures remained marooned at Kensington; Jameson remembered having seen hundreds of them ‘lying in heaps one against each other.’48 Soon after the accession of William IV, the situation at Kensington became more challenging. The Duchess of Kent made frequent requests to expand her apartments at the palace, campaigning for accommodation that befitted her daughter Princess Victoria’s status as heir to the throne. The State Apartments, she suggested, could be colonized, as they were unused, unoccupied and ‘used for old pictures’.49 William IV preferred to maintain Kensington as a set of usable staterooms, but – despite financial uncertainty and considerable and ongoing disagreement – a new suite of seventeen rooms was prepared for the duchess and Princess Victoria between 1834 and 1836, with the King’s Gallery being partitioned into three new domestic spaces. As Duke of Clarence, William IV had lived in domestic happiness with his mistress Dorothy Jordan and their children at Bushy House, part of Hampton Court’s wider estate, in his capacity as Ranger of Bushy Park. After his eventual marriage in 1818, he continued to live there, entertaining his neighbours and hosting balls and dinners at home, and as president of the ‘Toy Club’ at the Toy Inn tavern next to Trophy Gate, the main entrance to the palace grounds. The Times of 25 August reported great celebrations and fireworks in Hampton on his accession in 1830, and while the king and queen now moved back to London, Queen Adelaide was appointed Ranger and returned to live at Bushy House after her husband’s death. Hampton Court’s resident historian Ernest Law later ascribed William IV’s interest in the palace to his long association with the locality and claimed, ‘It was he, who seems first to have conceived the idea of making it a sort of receptacle or museum, for the many curious pictures which had hitherto been stored away, out of sight, in the other royal palaces.’50 An 1832 survey of Hampton Court reported that, ‘Considering the age and great extent of these buildings, they may be considered in a good state and secure’, whereas several of the state apartments at Kensington, largely disused since the death of George II there in 1760, ‘still remain in a very dilapidated condition, and to be made tenantable require considerable repair.’51 William IV may not have known ‘a picture from a window-shutter’ but he had the vision to at least order that the unwanted pictures be hung up at Hampton Court.52 Between 1833 and 1838, over 600 pictures arrived at the palace: Section v of Seguier’s catalogue had begun listing all of the paintings in the State Apartments but had been abandoned, presumably when it became clear that the pictures were to be enormously supplemented and re-arranged. Section vi was entitled ‘Catalogue of His Majesty’s Pictures 1835’ and represented a completely new list for the palace incorporating the new arrivals. Seguier’s annotations throughout the catalogue recorded the dates when pictures were moved from Kensington and elsewhere. Seguier’s involvement can also be traced through the invoices he submitted throughout the 1830s to the Lord Chamberlain, which included his travelling expenses to Hampton Court and Kensington ‘to superintend the removal of pictures’, as well as the costs associated with cleaning and varnishing an array of pictures on site before they were hung up in their new home. The heavy lifting was done by contracted tradesmen, including Samuel Evans, joiner and chair-maker, who was paid in 1833 for ‘unloading five caravan loads containing 204 pictures at different times that came from Kensington Palace, dusting, cleaning and sorting out the same and carrying into separate state rooms as directed . . . unhanging sundry pictures in several of the rooms, dusting, moving and rehanging in other rooms and hanging pictures that came from other of the palaces, in various rooms at different times.’53 At least 400 of the new arrivals made their way straight on to the walls of the State Apartments with battens fixed over tapestries and covered by wallpaper, with pictures hung from cornice to chair-rail. By the late 1830s, Hampton Court’s interiors had been entirely transformed, its remaining furnishings displayed behind railings, the integrity of its interior architecture obscured by paintings on every wall. The identity of Hampton Court as an art gallery, rather than an unfashionable and unloved royal residence, was firmly established.54 The royal public at Hampton Court: identity and ownership Even though Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle remained the focus for royal projects and successive Surveyors of the King’s Pictures throughout the later eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Hampton Court Palace was not ignored. Its art collection was surveyed, discussed and visited. Art, indeed, was central to the public experience of the palace: Hampton Court may have been part of the domestic version of the Grand Tour, a perambulation around the historic monuments and residences of Britain, but it was the art that tourists came to see. Bickham’s Deliciae Britannicae of 1742 eschewed almost all mention of the palace’s history and unfashionable Tudor and Baroque architecture. Instead, the guidebook concentrated on providing an introduction to the works of art within the State Apartments, ‘attempted, with a view . . . to inform the judgments of those, who have but the least taste for the art of painting’,55 and prefaced with a long exposition on art history. Later guidebooks followed a similar pattern, even those with alternative primary objectives: The Epicure’s Almanack found time, between describing refreshment opportunities at local inns, to comment on the paintings at Hampton Court, including Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ and asserting ‘out of whom, if you do not fix upon Miss Pitt as the most beautiful, you must certainly be set down as no connoisseur.’56 Such light humour hints at the more acerbic criticism of aristocratic visitors who might be concerned with the social performance of polite tourism rather than a proper study of art. Walpole recorded how the celebrated Georgian socialites, Elizabeth and Maria Gunning, reportedly mistook themselves as the centre of attention when Mary Taylor, the Hampton Court housekeeper, announced to a different tour group, ‘This way, ladies, here are the Beauties.’57 More seriously, Joshua Reynolds complained about the superficiality of self-appointed virtuosi, recalling a recent visit to Hampton Court with a connoisseur ‘just returned from Italy’ whose verbose ‘cant of criticism’ was ‘emitted with that volubility which generally those orators have who annex no ideas to their words.’58 Raphael’s Cartoons were the epitome of taste. Jonathan Richardson’s The Theory of Painting of 1715 ‘time and again summoned the Cartoons as supreme examples of invention, expression, composition’,59 and this was the position they retained in British art historiography throughout the century and beyond (Fig. 4). The exhaustive multi-volume The Beauties of England and Wales declared in 1816: ‘They constitute the great pictorial boast, not only of this regal building but of the country to which the care of preserving them has devolved.’60 Every guidebook of the eighteenth century highlighted the Cartoons as the aesthetic climax to a day at Hampton Court, reinforcing ‘the penetration of a work of art into a national consciousness’.61 Access to the Cartoons was therefore imperative and part of a wider debate about the nation’s cultural assets and its cultural sophistication. Fig. 4. View largeDownload slide Between 1816 and 1819, the loan of Raphael’s Cartoons to the British Institution enabled artists to admire, study and copy them. The artist Benjamin Haydon was not alone in lauding their beauty, even their ‘truth’, and copies of the Cartoons by Haydon’s pupils, including the Landseers, were exhibited next to the originals. Such unabashed admiration and the relative limitations of the copyists were easy targets for satire, evidenced in this etching by John Bailey, published in 1818. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Fig. 4. View largeDownload slide Between 1816 and 1819, the loan of Raphael’s Cartoons to the British Institution enabled artists to admire, study and copy them. The artist Benjamin Haydon was not alone in lauding their beauty, even their ‘truth’, and copies of the Cartoons by Haydon’s pupils, including the Landseers, were exhibited next to the originals. Such unabashed admiration and the relative limitations of the copyists were easy targets for satire, evidenced in this etching by John Bailey, published in 1818. © The Trustees of the British Museum. The removal of the Cartoons to Buckingham House in 1763 was, controversial. In 1777, John Wilkes railed against George III in the House of Commons: [William III] built the princely suite of apartments at Hampton Court, on purpose for the reception of these heavenly guests [the Cartoons]. The English nation were then admitted to the rapturous enjoyment of their beauties . . . At present they are perishing in a late baronet’s smoky house at the end of a great smoky town. They are entirely secreted from the public eye . . . Can there be, Sir, a greater mortification to any English gentleman of taste, than to be thus deprived of . . . the pride of our island, as an invaluable national treasure, as a common blessing, not as private property?62 Britain did not have a national collection in the eighteenth century, still less a gallery to put it in, but it did have a royal collection that some began to see as a national treasure. There was a perception that this ought to be accessible to all, or at least all those educated to an appropriate degree of artistic sophistication. George IV did not necessarily disagree. Between 1816 and 1819, as Prince Regent, he authorized the loan of all of the Cartoons to the British Institution (two each year, followed by the seventh of the series in 1819). As king, George remained a beneficent lender, authorizing loans from Hampton Court (as well as other royal palaces) to the British Institution in 1820, 1822 and 1824, followed in 1826 and 1827 by two great exhibitions at the same location devoted entirely to works from the Royal Collection. The British Institution had been established in 1805, with William Seguier its first ‘Superintendent’ and the Prince Regent as patron; its promotion of British contemporary art inspired its alternative name of the British Gallery but loan exhibitions were ‘drawn largely from noble collections and organised under aristocratic patronage.’63 Private ownership (and the reflected glory of being perceived as a great collector) remained the norm; Linda Colley has argued that the British Institution ‘allowed patricians to influence the development of British art without conceding a national gallery, which might seem to challenge the principle of private ownership.’64 The collection at Hampton Court therefore remained a precious public resource for cultural tourists, connoisseurs and artists (Fig. 5). Raphael’s Elymas cartoon was lent to the Royal Academy in 1821, and Christ’s Charge to St Peter followed in 1822 ‘for the use of the painting school during the ensuing season.’65 Artists also travelled frequently to the palace to sketch or copy paintings on display. Permission needed to be sought in advance, and the Lord Chamberlain’s warrant books and out-letters contain numerous instructions to the palace Housekeeper to allow artists particular access to specific works of art. John Godefroy visited in 1820 to copy Giulio Romano’s Battle of Constantine and Elizabeth Seymour was told ‘to allow him a room to draw in’. Others were not so fortunate: Julia Jacques was allowed to copy Lotto’s portrait of Andrea Odoni, ‘but it is on no account to be taken down’.66 Fig. 5. View largeDownload slide In 1824, the artist John Scarlett Davis was asked to copy paintings in the Royal Collection for a proposed book. This painting by Davis, similar to later works by the artist depicting gallery and historic interiors, shows what is presumably Davis’s palette and easel in front of Raphael’s Cartoons, whilst well-heeled tourists stroll through the State Apartments, led by the palace Housekeeper. © Herefordshire Museum Service. Fig. 5. View largeDownload slide In 1824, the artist John Scarlett Davis was asked to copy paintings in the Royal Collection for a proposed book. This painting by Davis, similar to later works by the artist depicting gallery and historic interiors, shows what is presumably Davis’s palette and easel in front of Raphael’s Cartoons, whilst well-heeled tourists stroll through the State Apartments, led by the palace Housekeeper. © Herefordshire Museum Service. Copying the Cartoons for artistic inspiration and edification had been widespread since the early 1700s, but they were also copied for engraved reproduction. Nicolas Dorigny’s engravings of the Cartoons, completed in 1719, cost 5 guineas and Thomas Holloway’s elaborate prints, produced over thirty years in the early 1800s, were similarly expensive, but cheaper sets were also available. John Faber, meanwhile, published a set of mezzotints of Kneller’s ‘Hampton Court Beauties’ in the 1720s, and other popular subjects followed. The commercial art world encouraged mass consumption and the enormous late-eighteenth-century increase in inexpensive copperplate book illustration and in the marketing of affordable prints made art accessible to the middle-classes. Old Master paintings and modern pictures by British portraitists and topographical artists were printed and circulated in this way. Not only histories and guidebooks but also novels and biographies became increasingly enlivened by illustrations, many of which centred on a canon of British authors, subjects and locations and, as John Brewer has argued, ‘capitalised on the growing sense of a British national heritage, a history and culture whose recovery was important in shaping a sense of British identity.’67 As Adrian Tinniswood has described, the early 1800s saw tourists ‘chase through every county in pursuit of culture, antiquity and romance’,68 the ‘patriotic pleasure’ of visiting the past, alongside a pride in Britain’s more recent achievements and cultural capital. Horace Walpole was reduced to hiding in his bedchamber at Strawberry Hill, cursing the popularity of nearby Hampton Court, while his housekeeper showed ever-larger groups around his home. Many owners began to formalize arrangements for house opening, even issuing tickets in advance, often with sets of rules attached. At the same time, visitors’ expectations and demands for an informed tour as well as authoritative accounts of the works on display outgrew the abilities of most housekeepers and their staff. Catalogues and guidebooks were published to accompany a visit, rather than the larger more expensive, less portable commemorative volumes, designed for gentlemen’s libraries rather than practical use. The popular and cheap Stranger’s Guide to Hampton Court Palace first appeared in about 1817, and could be bought at the King’s Guard Chamber at the start of the palace tour, the price of which had now been set as 1 shilling. The visitor profile changed too. The Morning Post of 2 August 1833 described how, Within the last week the visitors to the Royal Palace at Hampton Court have been numerous beyond precedent. On Sunday, upon a moderate computation, there could not have been less than 1,000. The line of vehicles of every description extended from the side entrance nearly the whole length of the wall . . . Several persons of distinction mixed with the promenaders, who consisted for the most part of plain citizens with their families.69 Earlier, in 1814, Joseph Farington, at the palace to study the Cartoons with the then Surveyor of the King’s Pictures, the artist Benjamin West, as well as Thomas Lawrence and Thomas Holloway the engraver, had remarked that, ‘Many of the country people and from London dressed in Sunday attire came in large parties to see the palace.’70 The palace that these new visitors came to see was gradually being reshaped and re-imagined for its new audience. Instead of a furtive glimpse into a current royal residence, tourists were presented with a celebration of the royal past. In 1833, West’s seven large history paintings, including The Death of General Wolfe – a popular and patriotic work ‘glorifying English heroism, sacrifice and victory’71 – were moved from Buckingham House to Hampton Court where they were hung alongside the artist’s portraits of George III and his family. By the 1840s, Edward Jesse, Deputy-Surveyor General of the Royal Parks and Palaces, had transformed the empty Great Hall into his vision of Tudor England, complete with arms and armour, banners, tapestries and heraldic stained glass. Artists including Joseph Nash and James Digman Wingfield employed Hampton Court as the stage-set for their romanticized views of historic royal scenes. Visitors were encouraged to imagine the past of ‘Merry England’, a kind of bucolic fantasy stripped of modernism, a vanished way of life, history tinged with nostalgia and legend: in the early nineteenth century, you could even see Cardinal Wolsey’s shoes, as if left behind in a hurry by the tragic anti-hero of Hampton Court’s Tudor history.72 Meanwhile, public access to art became the subject for debate in the House of Commons. Between 1835 and 1836, the Select Committee on Arts and their Connextion with Manufactures, chaired by the progressive Liberal mp William Ewart, interrogated artists, administrators, manufacturers and business leaders, with the aim of improving training and national appreciation of all strands of artistic production. The committee’s deliberations in particular challenged the exclusive role of the Royal Academy over artistic instruction and exhibitions. For some, the Academy represented élitism and a restrictive approach to art production and access. The artist Benjamin Haydon, one of the Academy’s most vociferous critics, claimed that ‘The artists are at the mercy of a despotism whose unlimited power tends to destroy all feeling for right or justice; forty men do as they please.’73 This influence extended beyond the walls of the Academy, as another artist George Foggo submitted, ‘No student is permitted to draw at the British Museum without a recommendation from an Academician; to copy any of His Majesty’s pictures in any of the palaces usually requires a warrant from the Lord Chamberlain; to copy the cartoons at Hampton Court, a warrant cost me £4 [and] some shillings.’74 At the same time, William Seguier’s stewardship of the National Gallery was criticized, for the condition of some of the works on display, and for the lack of any coherent acquisition policy. The Committee was astonished that Seguier himself had never been to Italy, either to buy works or simply to acquire the appropriate qualifications for curating Italian art in Britain. The National Gallery had opened in 1824 but was open to the public during the day only from Monday to Thursday; while its planned new home in Trafalgar Square would be, it was agreed, too small to house the nation’s most important works of art (notably Raphael’s Cartoons) and where the National Gallery would be forced to share space with the Royal Academy. The committee’s recommendations included the development of an acquisitions strategy and conservation regime, catalogues and increased opening hours. Elsewhere, there was a vision for provincial galleries across the nation alongside centrally supported schools of design, and the abolition of ‘vexatious’ and ‘discreditable’ entrance fees to historic buildings. Nineteenth-century reformists on the Select Committee of 1835–6 believed that access to art was a means of improving the morals of the nation: mention was made of ‘Men who are usually called “mob”; but they cease to become mob when they get a taste.’75 Portraits of illustrious British heroes, combined with rhapsodic and moralizing rhetoric in guidebooks, could inspire future generations to emulate their forefathers, stimulating intellectual confidence and industrial creativity. This created a demand for public art galleries, alongside museums and libraries, as a central element of the Victorian political and philanthropic agenda. The State Apartments at Hampton Court, full of national treasures and important historic pictures, were an obvious ready-made solution to the challenge of improving public access to art. William IV’s decision to remove all the unhung paintings at Kensington Palace, as well as the majority of what was no longer required at Windsor Castle and elsewhere, to Hampton Court was, according to Georg Scharf, director of the National Portrait Gallery, ‘to have them shown to better advantage, and to enable the public to participate in these advantages.’76 After her accession in 1837, as Simon Thurley has stated, Queen Victoria ‘probably felt that the easiest way . . . was to open the palace to the public, for free.’77 Conclusion In 1843, under his pseudonym Felix Summerly, the great Victorian arts administrator and reformer Henry Cole published the second edition of his guidebook to Hampton Court Palace. He felt the need to insert a new introduction that explained how the State Apartments had originally been furnished in 1700 for William III, because, since then, ‘Hampton Court may be considered to have been the great storehouse, or receptacle . . . for all the pictures – the rejected of the other palaces.’78 Criticism of the picture hang would increase and broaden over the mid-nineteenth century, as the limitations of Hampton Court as an art gallery became apparent to a more professional curatorial audience. Yet, as Cole’s text reveals, the picture hang had never been designed along connoisseurial principles, but had emerged, partly at least, as the result of changes in royal priorities elsewhere. George III and George IV, certainly, had retained their preferred artistic treasures at Buckingham House and Windsor Castle. The rebuilding and refurbishment programmes at these royal residences had a direct impact on the hangs at Hampton Court, measured both by what they took away and what they ultimately presented back to the palace as the unwanted residue of the Royal Collection. The importance of Raphael’s Cartoons, however, obscured this history. Their fame and public profile helped establish the art collection at Hampton Court as an important national treasure in the mid-eighteenth century. Art remained the main reason for visiting the palace throughout this period and it was the existence of the art collection in the State Apartments that became the focus of demands for greater public access in the nineteenth century. Increasingly, the prized artistic assets of the Royal Collection were identified as national treasures, not to be squirrelled away in private royal apartments, but shared and enjoyed by everyone. The best paintings should rather be on permanent display, ideally in a public gallery, as the 1836 Select Committee recommended for the Cartoons. This was part of a more general trend that witnessed ‘an early formulation of the concept of a nation’s heritage, of individual buildings [and their collections] existing somehow in the public domain.’79 By this point, Hampton Court Palace itself was no longer an actively used royal residence: as Brewer’s Beauties of England and Wales explained in 1816, ‘Correctness of taste must be supposed likely to induce the monarch to prefer the magnificent boldness of Windsor Castle to the level verdure of Hampton.’80 Instead, the palace and its Tudor ghosts were part of British history, which ought to be made accessible to the general public, inspired to visit the palace in increasing numbers by historic novels, engraved illustrations and elegiac travel books. Ultimately, the free public galleries at Hampton Court allowed the monarchy to provide access to a large proportion of its art collection, whilst retaining ownership and curatorial control. There was the added benefit too of ceding financial responsibility for the collection, and the palace itself, to central government, specifically the Office of Works, although disputes over authority and expenditure would re-occur throughout the nineteenth century and beyond. Some historians have seen this as a disingenuous sleight-of-hand, where royal property became ‘in some magical and strictly intangible way the people’s property also’, merely by being made more accessible.81 Arguably, as Giles Waterfield has suggested, the fact that the Royal Collection remained largely unpublished with no authoritative printed catalogues until the mid-nineteenth century, demonstrated a ‘long-standing reticence [that] epitomised the royal family’s resolution that their works of art should remain, legally and intellectually, private.’82 The Royal Collection today is no longer a collection owned by the monarch as a private individual; it is ‘held in trust by The Queen as Sovereign for her successors and the nation’. This phraseology is nonetheless a modern restyling of this nineteenth-century concept of shared ownership, a model established by the transformation of Hampton Court Palace from a royal residence into a public art gallery between 1737 and 1838. Supplementary information An online appendix to this paper at jhc.oxfordjournals.org presents a complete transcription of sections v and vi of rcin 1112942, William Seguier’s inventory of the paintings at Hampton Court Palace in 1835. This provides a record of the picture hang in the State Apartments at Hampton Court just before the palace was opened to the general public in 1838. Acknowledgements I am enormously grateful to the Surveyor of The Queen’s Pictures, Desmond Shawe-Taylor, and to Oliver Urquhart Irvine, Librarian of Royal Collection Trust, for granting me access to the unpublished inventories and catalogues of the Royal Collection in the Surveyor’s office at St James’s Palace, and for permission to publish the transcription of William Seguier’s inventories of the royal collection at Hampton Court Palace. I am also deeply indebted to Lucy Whitaker and Wendy Hitchmough for reading a draft of this paper and for their specific and general suggestions and advice. Finally, I would also like to thank Hannah Litvack, Stephen Patterson, Alex Buck, Carly Collier and the late Giles Waterfield, as well as the staff of the National Archives, National Art Library, British Library and Royal Archives for their assistance during the course of this research. Quotations from the Royal Archives are given with the permission of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Notes and references Footnotes 1 The oft-repeated anecdote about George II boxing the ears of a young George III somewhere in the State Apartments originates from J. Heneage Jesse, Memoirs of the Life and Reign of King George the Third (London, 1867), vol. ii, p. 11. The event was apparently described by the Duke of Sussex, George III’s son, when he visited Hampton Court. 2 William IV reportedly described Hampton Court Palace as ‘the quality poor-house’ according to Ernest Law, History of Hampton Court Palace(1885–91), vol. iii: In Orange and Guelph time (1891), p. 332. 3 These general narratives have been expertly documented in Simon Thurley, Hampton Court Palace: A social and architectural history (London and New Haven, 2003) and in Oliver Millar, The Queen’s Pictures (London, 1977) and The Later Georgian Pictures in the Collection of H.M. The Queen (London, 1969). 4 Recent analysis of Georgian political, cultural and court history can be found in John Brewer, The Pleasures of the Imagination: English culture in the eighteenth century (London, 1997); Hannah Smith, Georgian Monarchy: Politics and culture, 1716–60 (Cambridge, 2006), and Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the nation 1707–1837 (London, 1992). 5 H. M. Colvin (ed.), The History of the King’s Works (London, 1963–82), vol. v: 1660–1782 (1976), pp. 175–82. Colvin provides a comprehensive referenced summary of the building works at the royal palaces. 6 London and Country Journal, 10 April 1739; Universal Spectator and Weekly Journal, 22 February 1746. Both retrieved from the online resource, Gale News Vault, 17th and 18th Century Burney Collection. 7 National Archives (hereafter, na), ls 9/161. This book contains the bills of fare, listing all the meals prepared for the royal family in 1749. There are no other entries for Hampton Court after 1737, although some of the volumes for the 1750s are incomplete or missing entirely. 8 Law, op. cit. (note 2), pp. 283–4. Law’s source, however, is Horace Walpole’s Reminiscences, written in 1788 and first published in 1805, and Walpole is referring to Richmond not Hampton Court. 9 George Bickham, Deliciae Britannicae; Or the curiosities of Hampton-Court and Windsor-Castle, delineated with occasional reflections (London, 1742), p. 103. Bickham’s guidebook was the first to describe the interiors of Hampton Court in detail. 10 The long-serving Thomas Fort died in 1745 and was succeeded as Clerk of Works by John Vardy, replaced the following year by Stephen Wright, with William Rice superseding the latter in 1758. 11 na, lc 9/290–292. 12 na, work 4/10: 5, 10 July 1750; 11 June 1751. 13 Bickham, op. cit. (note 9), p. 31. The weaponry also seems to have been updated: while the displays broadly remained the same, by the early nineteenth century, the muskets, carbines, pistols and swords were late eighteenth- or early nineteenth-century issues. See ‘The King’s Apartments’, Apollo 140 no. 390 (1994), pp. 61–2. 14 na, lc 9/13. Bill book for the Great Wardrobe: 1744–5, items 18–20. 15 Officially titled the ‘Under Housekeeper’, Somerset English died in 1741 and was replaced by Mary Magdalen Taylor. John Turner, Keeper of the Privy Lodgings and Standing Wardrobe, died in 1753 and was succeeded by Taylor, who surrendered her position as Housekeeper to Anne Mostyn, who was followed after her death in 1759 by her sister Elizabeth. 16 As well as becoming the residence of the Master of the Horse, Stud House was extensively used, particularly later in the century by the Prince Regent, as a place for private dining and entertainment: over £7,000 was spent in improving the accommodation between 1817 and 1821. 17 Colvin, op. cit. (note 5) and vol. vi: 1782–1851 (1973), pp. 329–39. 18 Walpole to Lord Hertford, 27 August 1764, in, ed. W. H. Lewis, The Yale Edition of Horace Walpole’s Correspondence (New Haven, 1937–83), vol. 38, p. 435. Gloucester was succeeded in the house by George III’s son, Edward, Duke of Kent, who petitioned, unsuccessfully, for substantial renovations to the Pavilions. On Kent’s death in 1820, two of the four buildings were demolished. 19 Public Ledger, 2 July 1765; Burney Collection, op. cit. (note 6). 20 As part of a wider economy drive across the Royal Household, the posts of Under Housekeeper and Keeper of the Privy Lodgings were combined to form a single post of Housekeeper in 1782. Elizabeth Mostyn, who had been Housekeeper until 1762 and then Keeper until 1782 was the first of the new breed (Mary Anderson, Housekeeper from 1762 to 1782, was pensioned off). Mostyn was succeeded by Mary Keet in 1785, followed by Lady Anne Cecil in 1803 and Lady Elizabeth Seymour in 1813. 21 George III to Lord Grenville, 20 January 1795 in The Manuscripts of J. B. Fortescue [formerly] preserved at Dropmore, (Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts, 1899–1927), vol. iii, p. 10. 22 na, t 29/67, fol. 434: 14 February 1795. 23 na, ls 8/205, 209, 213, 217, 221, for the years 1795–99: there are no books for the years 1800–2. 24 The Diary of Joseph Farington (New Haven and London, 1978–98), vol. iii, ed. K. Garlick and A. MacIntyre (1979), pp. 701–2 (24 November 1796). 25 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. viii, ed. K. Cave (1982), p. 2866 (29 September 1806). 26 The Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke, ed. J. A. Home (Edinburgh, 1889–96), vol. iii, p. 242. 27 Queen Victoria’s Journal (online edition, retrieved 4 November 2015): Royal Archives, vic/main,/qvj (w), 27 August 1836, Claremont. 28 ‘Vertue i’, Journal of the Walpole Society 18 (1930), pp. 12–13. Interestingly, Stephen Slaughter, the Surveyor of the King’s Pictures 1745–65, was not involved. Knapton became Surveyor in 1765 for Frederick’s son, George III, succeeded by Richard Dalton in 1778 and afterwards Benjamin West in 1791. 29 ‘Vertue 3’, Walpole Society 22 (1934), p. 154. 30 Part 2 of Vertue’s catalogue is entitled ‘Extract of an Inventory of His Majesty’s Pictures at his Palace of Hampton Court, in the charge of the Housekeeper, 1750’: rcin 1112785 (also known as ‘Millar 30’). 31 George III’s plans for his new residence are discussed in Francis Russell, ‘King George III’s picture hang at Buckingham House’, Burlington Magazine 129, no. 1013 (1987), pp. 524–31. 32 na, ao 1/420/200. Account roll of the Treasurer of the Chamber, Michaelmas 1762 – Michaelmas 1763. 33 Walpole to George Montagu, 25 May 1762, in Lewis, op. cit. (note 18), vol. 10, p. 33. 34 Paget Toynbee (ed.), ‘Horace Walpole’s Journals of Visits to Country Seats, etc.’, Walpole Society 16 (1928), p. 80: 12 September 1784. 35 Slaughter received payments in 1764 for hanging pictures at Hampton Court in place of the Cartoons, taking down large pictures at Kensington, and cleaning and repairing several pictures there and two large pictures at Somerset House, and for ‘directing the hanging’ of several of these pictures at Hampton Court: na, lc 5/168, pp. 304, 330; Lord Chamberlain’s Warrant Book for 1761–5. 36 rcin 1112546 is an inventory in the Royal Collection, also known as ‘Millar 36’ and dated c.1776. The manuscript contains several lists from various palaces, bound together, with the Hampton Court catalogue appearing between fols 101 and 135v. The paintings listed in this inventory certainly record the same picture moves noticed by Walpole by 1784. 37 As well as George III’s demands for Buckingham House, some of the internal movements of works of art at the palace may have been driven by the expansion of private residential accommodation: the king’s private closets became part of a Grace-and-Favour apartment, necessitating the removal of the paintings upstairs, and the Admirals Gallery (in what is now known as the Communication Gallery) may have been disassembled, with the paintings rehung in the King’s Guard Chamber, for similar reasons. 38 rcin 918068: the drawing, c.1800, is reproduced in Thurley, op. cit. (note 3), p. 311, where it is attributed to George III himself, but it is now assigned only to ‘British School’. 39 rcin 1112541 (‘Millar 39’): ‘A Catalogue of Pictures sent from the Queen’s Palace, St James’s, Kensington and Hampton Court Palaces, and Kew House, to His Majesty’s at Windsor Castle, 1804 and 1805’. 40 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 6, ed. K. Garlick and A. MacIntyre (1979), pp. 2399 (30 August 1804), 2415 (24 September 1804). 41 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 10, ed. K. Cave (1982), p. 3695 (21 July 1810). In 1797, the old furniture erected for George I’s theatre in the Great Hall had been dismantled and removed. 42 Mark Evans, Princes as Patrons (London, 1998), p. 70. 43 H. Wyndham (ed.), The Correspondence of Sarah Spencer, Lady Lyttelton (London, 1911), pp. 103–4. 44 Anna Jameson, A Handbook to the Public Galleries of Art (London, 1842), p. 287. Christopher White, Dutch Pictures in the Collection of Her Majesty The Queen (London, 2015) contains the most recent summary of George IV’s collecting and occasional disposal of works of art from the Royal Collection, including the sale of seventy-five Dutch and Flemish pictures at Christie’s in 1814. 45 W. B. Pope (ed.). The Diary of Benjamin Robert Haydon (Cambridge, ma, 1960–63), vol. iii, p. 455: 10 June 1830. 46 F. P. Seguier, ‘Dictionary of Monograms and Identified Paintings’, vol. 4, Series 1: unpublished manuscript, British Library, Additional ms 38799, fols 42-68v. A fuller account of Seguier, and the views of his contemporaries, can be found in Alastair Laing, ‘William Seguier and advice to picture collectors’, in Studies in the History of Painting Restoration, ed. Christine Sitwell and Sarah Staniforth (London, 1998), pp. 97–120. 47 The online appendix to this article presents a full transcription and description of Sections v and vi of Seguier’s catalogue, rcin 1112942 (‘Millar 48’). 48 Jameson, op. cit. (note 44), p. 220. 49 O. Fryman (ed.), Kensington: Palace of the Modern Monarchy (forthcoming, 2018) will assemble the most recent scholarship on the history of Kensington Palace and its interiors. 50 Law, op. cit. (note 2), vol. iii, pp. 342–43. 51 na, work 19/25/1: ‘Report upon the State and Condition of Hampton Court and Kensington Palaces, in consequence of a survey made in September 1832,’ signed by Henry Hake-Seward. Seward was appointed Surveyor of Works and Buildings in that same year. William Rice (see note 10) had been replaced as Clerk of Works for the palace in 1789 by Thomas Tildesley, followed by Thomas Rice in 1808, Thomas Hardwick in 1810 and Lewis Wyatt in 1829. 52 Mrs Uwins, A Memoir of Thomas Uwins (London, 1858), vol. ii, pp. 269–70. Uwins was Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures from 1844 to 1857. 53 na, lc 11/82, fols 224, 35v. This is a volume of ‘Tradesmen’s Bills’, October–December 1833; there are similar returns in previous and subsequent volumes. 54 For a full discussion of the picture hang of the 1830s, Seguier’s role and the subsequent history of the picture galleries in the State Apartments, see: Brett Dolman, ‘Curating the Royal Collection at Hampton Court Palace in the nineteenth century’, Journal of the History of Collections, 29 (2017), pp. 271–90. 55 Bickham, op. cit. (note 9), frontispiece. 56 Ralph Rylance, The Epicure’s Almanack (London, 1815), p. 233. 57 Walpole to Sir Horace Mann, 31 August 1751, in Lewis, op. cit. (note 18), vol. 20, p. 272. 58 The Idler (London, 1761), vol. ii, no. 76, pp. 130–5 (29 September 1759). 59 Arline Meyer, Apostles in England: Sir James Thornhill and the legacy of Raphael’s tapestry cartoons (New York, 1996), p. 47. Meier, together with John Shearman, Raphael’s Cartoons in the Collection of Her Majesty The Queen and the Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel (London, 1972) provide a comprehensive account of the Cartoons in England. 60 J. Norris Brewer, The Beauties of England and Wales: or, original delineations, topographical, historical and descriptive of each county (1801–1815), vol. x, part iv (London, 1816), p. 475. 61 Shearman, op. cit. (note 59), p. 152. 62 William Cobbett, The Parliamentary History of England (London, 1806–20), vol. 19 (1814), cols. 190ff. 63 Giles Waterfield, The People’s Galleries: Art museums and exhibitions in Britain 1800–1914 (London and New Haven, 2015), p. 15. 64 Colley, op. cit. (note 4), pp. 176–7. 65 na, lc 5/248/28: James Graham, Duke of Montrose and Lord Chamberlain to Lady Elizabeth Seymour, Housekeeper of Hampton Court, 19 July 1822. 66 na, lc 5/248/11: Francis Ingram-Seymour-Conway, Marquess of Hertford and Lord Chamberlain, to Lady Elizabeth Seymour, 18 September 1820; na, lc 5/249/15: William Martins, Clerk of the Cheque to the Messengers, to Sarah Grundy, Deputy Housekeeper, 9 December 1835. 67 Brewer, op. cit. (note 4), p. 463. 68 Adrian Tinniswood, The Polite Tourist: A history of country house visiting (London, 1998), p. 91. 69 Morning Post no. 19548, 2 August 1833, p. 5. British Library Newspapers. 70 Farington, op. cit. (note 24), vol. 13, ed. K. Cave (1984), pp. 4575–76 (28 August 1814). 71 Robert C. Alberts, Benjamin West: A biography (Boston, ma, 1978), p. 109. 72 Law, op. cit. (note 2), pp. 324–5. Law is dubious about the shoes’ authenticity, ‘As the upper leather had been renewed at one time, and the sole at another, its claim to reverence was of a somewhat impalpable kind.’ Nearby, Horace Walpole was the proud owner of Cardinal Wolsey’s hat. 73 Report from the Select Committee on Arts and their Connexion with Manufactures with the Minutes of Evidence, Appendix and Index (House of Commons, 1836), part ii, p. 89. 74 Ibid, pp. 119–20. 75 Report from the Select Committee on National Monuments and Works of Art; with the Minutes of Evidence, and Appendix (House of Commons, 1841), p. 91. Quoted in Janet Minihan, The Nationalization of Culture (London, 1977), p. 89. 76 Georg Scharf, ‘Royal picture galleries’, in Old London. Papers read at the London Congress of the Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, July 1866 (London, 1867), p. 373. 77 Thurley, op. cit. (note 3), p. 317. 78 Felix Summerly [Henry Cole], A Handbook for the Architecture, Tapestries, Paintings, Gardens, and Grounds of Hampton Court, 4th edn (London, 1849), p. 85. Cole’s criticisms should be read within the context of his ambitions to remove the finer paintings in the Royal Collection at Hampton Court to the South Kensington Museum. On this, and the subsequent history of the Hampton Court State Apartments and their picture galleries, see Dolman, op. cit. (note 54). 79 Tinniswood, op. cit. (note 68), p. 122. 80 Norris Brewer, op. cit. (note 60), p. 456. 81 Colley, op. cit. (note 4), pp. 176–7. 82 Waterfield, op. cit. (note 63), p. 12. © The Author 2017. Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved.

Journal

Journal of the History of CollectionsOxford University Press

Published: Nov 2, 2017

There are no references for this article.

You’re reading a free preview. Subscribe to read the entire article.


DeepDyve is your
personal research library

It’s your single place to instantly
discover and read the research
that matters to you.

Enjoy affordable access to
over 18 million articles from more than
15,000 peer-reviewed journals.

All for just $49/month

Explore the DeepDyve Library

Search

Query the DeepDyve database, plus search all of PubMed and Google Scholar seamlessly

Organize

Save any article or search result from DeepDyve, PubMed, and Google Scholar... all in one place.

Access

Get unlimited, online access to over 18 million full-text articles from more than 15,000 scientific journals.

Your journals are on DeepDyve

Read from thousands of the leading scholarly journals from SpringerNature, Elsevier, Wiley-Blackwell, Oxford University Press and more.

All the latest content is available, no embargo periods.

See the journals in your area

DeepDyve

Freelancer

DeepDyve

Pro

Price

FREE

$49/month
$360/year

Save searches from
Google Scholar,
PubMed

Create lists to
organize your research

Export lists, citations

Read DeepDyve articles

Abstract access only

Unlimited access to over
18 million full-text articles

Print

20 pages / month

PDF Discount

20% off