The first hint of the gathering storm was made evident to the King when the Commons brought down to the palace their Grand Remonstrance, a document in which they had recorded, in unqualified language, all the King's misdeeds. Charles retaliated by the fatal error of attempting to arrest five members of the Commons; after the failure of which he retired from London to Hampton Court—the last time (except for one night) that he visited it as a free man. In the summer of 1647, when his armies had all been crushed and dispersed, he came to the palace once more, but this time as a prisoner. He was still treated with great respect and allowed considerable liberty, visiting his children at Sion House, and having them visit him. Unhappily Charles determined to escape, and was so far successful that he succeeded in slipping from the palace, crossing the river, and reaching the Isle of Wight. But there his success ended, for he was obliged to give himself up as a prisoner to the governor of the island, to be treated afterwards with increasing severity.
Cromwell's soldiers are credited with effecting considerable damage to historic buildings, but we are indebted to the Protector for the saving of Hampton Court Palace. It had already been sold to various purchasers, when Cromwell became Lord Protector and the Parliament, knowing his liking for the palace, at once set to work to repurchase it. The Protector and his family soon after took up their residence there, provoking the mocking laughter of royalists, either for the regal state which Cromwell maintained, or the homeliness of his wife. It is strange to remember, that along with all his austerity of character Cromwell used to indulge, in his lighter moments, in great buffoonery, putting sticky sweetmeats on to the chairs on which the ladies were to sit, slipping live coals into his officers' coat pockets, or throwing wine about.
Hampton Court had often served as a honeymoon palace, but the young brides had seldom been very happy, unless, perhaps, Anne Boleyn had managed to be care-free during her short reign. Certainly Queen Mary and Henrietta Maria had been far from happy, but the insignificant little Portuguese wife of Charles II. was the unhappiest of all. Her husband did not love her, and she succeeded in annoying him by persisting in wearing her Portuguese style of dress, which seemed grotesque to English eyes. When she gave in on this point, she was ordered to receive Lady Castlemaine, one of the King's favourites, as a lady of her bedchamber, an indignity which she was justified in refusing. But Charles's open rudeness, and studied indifference to his wife, at last forced poor Catharine of Braganza to accept the notorious lady, after which the King treated her with respect, though never with love.
When William III. first saw Hampton Court, he was enchanted with it, it reminded him of his beloved Holland, and besides, the air was free from smoke, so that his asthmatical frame could breathe easily. He at once began to set about rebuilding and altering the palace, and laying out the gardens in the formal Dutch fashion. Sir Christopher Wren was entrusted with the new work, creating the stately east and south fronts, and the Fountain Court that we see to-day. The architect had to join on the Renaissance style of architecture in vogue at that time, to the late Perpendicular of the original builders, and by adhering to red-brick with stone facings and copings, he made a combination which is both restful and dignified. Queen Mary took an intense interest in the new building which she was never destined to see finished, her early death causing King William to lose all pleasure in the palace, which they had both loved. For some years work almost ceased on the new building, until the disastrous fire at Whitehall rendered it necessary for the King to have another palace. Work was then hurried on, Grinling Gibbons working at the interior carving, Verrio painting the ceilings and staircases, gardeners laying out the avenues and maze, till all was ready for the King in the winter of 1699. Little more than two years later, William, who had been very ill for some time, was riding in the park, when his horse stumbled on a mole-hill, throwing his royal master on to the ground. When the doctor examined him, King William was found to have broken his collar-bone, which was immediately set. In spite of the remonstrances of the doctor, the King insisted upon returning to Kensington, where he rapidly became worse, the jolting of the roads having shifted the bone, which had to be reset. A fortnight later he died.
The succeeding monarchs did little to the palace, though the first two Hanoverian Kings occasionally resided there. George III., whose partiality for Windsor and Kew caused him to neglect all the other palaces, never visited Hampton Court after he became King, so that it was gradually left to various private families, who were granted apartments by the royal bounty. When Queen Victoria came to the throne the palace was made open to the public, who have much appreciated the privilege of seeing one of the most beautiful royal residences ever erected in England.
CHAPTER IX
ST. JAMES'S PALACE
The old red-brick palace which stands at the foot of St. James's Street, looking up towards the busy throng of Piccadilly, still gives the diplomatic title to the Court of Great Britain, though it has long been neglected by royalty. It stands serene amid the traffic of Pall Mall, having gained with the passing of ages some of that dignity with which it was said to be lacking in the eighteenth century, when Sir John Fielding wrote "it reflects no honour on the kingdom, and is the jest of foreigners." Certainly less romantic in its history than Westminster or Whitehall, it yet remains to-day a Tudor palace, while its more picturesque rivals have crumbled away.
Long before the palace was erected, a small hospital stood upon its site, its inmates being fourteen chaste maidens, victims of the deadly malady of leprosy. The position had been chosen carefully, owing to its extreme loneliness, it being then completely surrounded by fields. In course of time eight brothers had been added to the hospital, which was known as St. James the Less, and the whole property had been granted by Henry VI. to his new foundation, Eton College. When Henry VIII. took possession of Wolsey's palace in Whitehall, he purchased the hospital and all the green fields round it, in order to obtain a park for his new residence. One is glad to learn that the unfortunate leprous maidens were pensioned off for the rest of their lives.