The Great Hall was on many occasions during the reign of Henry VIII. used for royal banquets, but as one banquet is very much like another, the reader need not be wearied with a repetition of the one already described: banquets mean eating and drinking, and undergoing the wet-blanket of dreary speeches one day, and what the Germans elegantly call 'pussy's lamentation' the next. In 1536 Henry married Jane Seymour, and in the following year she died at Hampton Court, after giving birth to Edward VI. On this occasion the English Bluebeard went into mourning, and compelled the Court to do the same. Having been married to Jane but seventeen months, he had probably not had time to get tired of her. He actually remained a widower for some time, but eventually, in order to strengthen the Protestant cause in England, at the suggestion of Thomas Cromwell he married, much against his inclination, the 'Flanders mare,' Anne of Cleves. In less than six months he obtained a divorce from her, and sent Cromwell to the block. Then in 1540 the ill-fated Catharine Howard was openly shown as the future Queen at Hampton Court Palace, and the marriage performed with great pomp and joyous celebrations. But in less than two years the royal voluptuary cut off her head on account of faults she had committed before knowing him. At Hampton Court also Henry married his last wife, Lady Catherine Parr, who survived him, but her head was once in great danger. She opposed the King on some religious question, and in great wrath he ordered an impeachment to be drawn up against her; but she, being warned of her danger, spoke so humbly of the foolishness of her sex that when the Chancellor came to arrest her Henry ordered the 'beast' to be gone.
In 1538 Henry VIII., who was particularly fond of hunting, but who was then so fat and unwieldy that he required special facilities for following his favourite sport, and needed them close at hand, extended his chase through fifteen parishes. These he kept strictly preserved for his own use, and they were enclosed by a wooden paling, which was removed after his death, the deer sent to Windsor, and the chase thrown open.
During the Christmas of 1543, Henry VIII. entertained Francis Gonzaga, the Viceroy of Sicily, at Hampton Court, and Edward VI. on this occasion likewise presided, in puerile magnificence, over the table in the high place of the hall, an occurrence over which grave historians grow quite enthusiastic, whilst at the same time describing the splendour of the entertainment. But after reading all this gush it is quite a relief to come on a passage like the following, showing the seamy side of regal pomp. It is from a curious old manuscript, containing some very singular directions for regulating the household of Henry VIII.:
'His Highness' baker shall not put alum in the bread, or mix rye, oaten or bean flour with the same, and if detected he shall be put in the stocks. [This prohibition implies that the thing had been done, and by the King's own highly-paid baker!] His Highness' attendants are not to steal any locks or keys, tables, forms, cupboards, or other furniture out of noblemen's or gentlemen's houses where they go to visit. [The King's attendants must have been worse than modern burglars, who are not known to steal tables and cupboards!] Master cooks shall not employ such scullions as go about naked, or lie all night on the ground before the kitchen fire. ["High life below stairs" was, it would seem, then in its infancy with scullions going about naked!] The officers of his privy chamber shall be loving together, no grudging or grumbling, nor talking of the King's pastimes. [Fancy the officers of the privy chamber, those grand gentlemen, having to be taught how to behave, and not to indulge in shindies among themselves, nor, like a parcel of low lackeys, to sit in judgment on their master's doings!] The King's barber is enjoined to be cleanly, not to frequent the company of misguided women, for fear of danger to the King's royal person. [A wise King, knowing that his barber was given to such practices, would have sent him to the deuce, and given up being shaved!] There shall be no romping with the maids on the staircase, by which dishes and other things are often broken. [The crockery being smashed was his Majesty's chief concern in this matter!] Care shall be taken that the pewter spoons and the wooden ones used in the kitchen be not broken or stolen. [What a lot of paltry thieves there must have been in the royal household!] The pages shall not interrupt the kitchen maids. [Those pages then, as now, must have been awful fellows!] The grooms shall not steal his Highness' straw for beds, sufficient being allowed for them. [How those grooms, who were, as we have seen, so busy in furnishing the rooms with 280 beds of silk, must have enjoyed the straw they slept on!] Coal only to be allowed to the King's, Queen's, and Lady Mary's chambers. [Rather hard on the other inmates of the palace!] The brewers are not to put any brimstone in the ale. [His Majesty did not want to taste sulphur before his time!]'
When the Knights Hospitallers of St. John granted the lease of Hampton Court to Cardinal Wolsey, they were on or before its expiry prepared to renew it; but they never had the chance of doing so, for as in 1540 Henry VIII. suppressed all the monasteries and confiscated their property, the Knights Hospitallers shared that fate, and Hampton Court became royal property. On Henry's death the palace was chosen by the guardians of Edward VI., then a minor, as his residence; he was placed under the special care of his uncle, the Duke of Somerset, Protector of the Council of Regency. But serious dissensions arose amidst the Council, and it was proposed to deprive the Duke of his royal ward, and an alarm having been given that this was to be done by force, the household and the inhabitants of Hampton armed themselves for the protection of the young King. The Protector, however, removed him to Windsor Castle, lest the Council should obtain possession of his person. In 1550 Edward and his attendants removed from London to Hampton Court, in consequence of an alarm that the 'black death' had made its appearance there—in fact, two of Edward's servants were said to have died of it. In 1552 Edward held a chapter of the Order of the Garter at Hampton Court Palace; the knights went to Windsor in the morning, but returned to this palace in the evening, where they were royally feasted, and where Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, was created Duke of Suffolk, and John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, Duke of Northumberland.
In 1553 Mary I. became Queen of England, and in the following year she married Philip, son of the Emperor Charles and heir to the Spanish crown. This alliance with the leading Catholic Power highly displeased the English people, and, in fact, they soon began to feel the effects of Mary's bigoted adherence to her own, the Roman Catholic, faith. She and her husband passed their honeymoon in gloomy retirement at Hampton Court in 1554, but in 1555 they kept their Christmas there with great solemnity, and the Princess Elizabeth, the daughter of Anne Boleyn, was invited as a guest, though there was little love between the two sisters. At this Christmas festivity the great hall was illuminated with 1,000 lamps. The Princess Elizabeth supped at the same table with their Majesties, next the cloth of state, and after supper was served with a perfumed napkin and plate of comfits by Lord Paget; but she retired with her ladies before the revels, maskings, and disguisings began. On St. Stephen's Day she was permitted to hear matins, or more likely mass, in the Queen's closet, where, we are told, she was attired in a robe of white satin, strung all over with large pearls. On December 29 she sat with their Majesties and the nobility at a grand spectacle of jousting, when 200 lances were broken, half the combatants being accoutred as Germans and half as Spaniards.
At her accession to the throne Elizabeth made Hampton Court one of her favourite residences; it was the most richly furnished, and here she caused her naval victories over the Spaniards to be worked in fine tapestries. Here was the scene of her grand festivities, equalling in splendour those of Henry VIII. Her ordinary dinner was a solemn affair. Hentzner thus describes it: 'While she was at prayers, we saw her table set in the following solemn manner: a gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and along with him another, who had a tablecloth, which, after they had both knelt down three times with the utmost veneration, he spread upon the table, and, after kneeling again, they both retired. [Oh, the contemptible flunkey souls of those days!] Then came two others, one with the rod again, the other with a saltcellar, a plate, and bread; when they had kneeled, as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they then retired with the same ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried lady (we were told she was a Countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a tasting knife, who, when she had prostrated herself three times in the most graceful manner, approached the table and rubbed the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the Queen had been present. When they had waited there a little while, the yeomen of the guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of twenty-four dishes, served in plate most of it gilt; these dishes were received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought and placed upon the table, while the lady taster gave to each of the guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison. During the time that this guard, which consists of the tallest and stoutest men that can be found in all England, were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for half an hour together.' No wonder that the Maids of Honour of Queen Elizabeth would, disguised as orange-girls, escape from the purlieus of the palace, and frequent those of the theatres! The tidings of the defeat of the Armada arrived on Michaelmas Day, and were communicated to the Queen whilst she was at dinner at Hampton Court, partaking of a goose; hence the origin of partaking of that savoury dish on Michaelmas Day. Such is the tradition; but geese were eaten on that day and about that time of the year before the Armada was dreamt of; they are then eaten because then in the finest condition.
James I. took up his residence at Hampton Court soon after his arrival in England, and here in 1604 took place, not revels and masques, but a conference of Presbyterians and the members of the Established Church; it lasted three days, and its result was the translation of the Bible, 'appointed to be read in churches.' But even his 'Sowship' James I., who prided himself on his learning and theological knowledge, was satisfied with a three days' conference on so important a question as was involved in his favourite axiom, 'No Bishop, no King,' but when it came to feasting he wanted more time. When in 1606 he entertained Francis, Prince of Vaudemont, son of the Duke of Lorraine, and the noblemen and gentlemen who accompanied him, the feasting and pastimes occupied fourteen days. Queen Anne, the wife of James I., died at the palace of Hampton Court in 1618, and was interred in Westminster Abbey.
Charles I., on his marriage with Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry IV. of France, here spent the honeymoon, and the plague then raging in London (1625) kept the royal pair and the Court, which had followed them, some time longer at Hampton Court. Here the King gave audience to the ambassadors of France and Denmark, as also to an envoy from Gabor, Prince of Transylvania.[#] In 1641, when the strife between the two great political parties—the Cavaliers, siding with the King, and the Roundheads, or the great mass of farmers, merchants, and shopkeepers, the Tories and Whigs of the future—was at its height, the London apprentices, then formidable engines of radical faction, became so threatening in their conduct towards the Court that Charles retired to Hampton Court for a time. But the King's fate could not be averted, and in 1647 he was again brought to Hampton Court by the army, and kept there, not in actual imprisonment, but under restraint, to November 11, when he made his escape. John Evelyn, in his 'Diary,' records a visit he paid Charles on October 10 in these words: 'I came to Hampton Court, where I had the honour to kiss His Majesty's hand, he being now in the power of those execrable villains, who not long after murdered him.'
[#] In 1621 he had been elected King of Hungary, but afterwards had to resign that dignity for the inferior one mentioned above.