After the Restoration Charles II. was several times in Brentford. Nell Gwynn is said to have lived there for some little time, as did also George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, a member of the infamous Cabal Ministry, who was the first to celebrate in literature the two kings of Brentford, whom he introduced in his comedy of the Rehearsal, a parody on one of Dryden's tragedies written in 1671. Who these kings were when they lived, or even if they ever existed, neither tradition nor history has attempted to prove, but in the Rehearsal they figure as close friends, who appear on the stage hand in hand, and reign amicably together till they are deposed by two equally united usurpers.
Brentford owns two important churches, one dedicated to St. George, founded in 1770, with nothing very distinctive about it but containing a painting of the Last Supper by Zoffany, presented by the artist; the other, named after St. Lawrence, built in the eighteenth century on to the tower of a much earlier place of worship. Chancellor Noy, whose house was close by, is buried in it, and it is associated with the memory of John Horne Tooke, who was curate of it from 1760 to 1773, before his meeting with John Wilkes led to his abandonment of the clerical profession.
As the chief marketing-place of the barge population, whose women, in their picturesque sun-bonnets and rough-and-ready costumes, may often be seen hurrying through its streets, the old town on the Brent is still to some extent in touch with rural England; but from the adjacent Ealing, that is its parent parish, and from its dependencies Acton and Gunnersbury, all individual character seems to have been eliminated, little remaining to recall the days when the manor-house of Ealing was one of the outlying residences of the Bishop of London, and the whole neighbourhood was dotted with the country seats of the great nobles. Acton, the name of which signifies the oak-town, now a singular misnomer, was once the proud owner of a fashionable spa, but is now chiefly given over to washerwomen; and Gunnersbury, the history of which can be traced back to Saxon times, for it is named after Gunyld, a niece of King Canute, has lost nearly all its historic landmarks, though the modern Gunnersbury House, on the site of a mansion designed by Inigo Jones, once occupied by Princess Amelia, preserves to it a certain distinction.
Greenford Parva
Very different from Brentford, Ealing, Acton, or Gunnersbury is the not distant Greenford Parva, that, though it is scarcely more than eight miles from Hyde Park Corner, is still, and seems likely to remain, one of the most secluded-looking spots in suburban Middlesex. Romantically situated in the valley of the Brent in the midst of beautiful meadows, the hamlet of Greenford Parva, the name of which, now condensed into Perivale, is said to signify the green ford in the pure vale, consists of but a few farms and cottages, but it prides itself on the possession of a church of its own, a quaint little building of unknown dedication, uncertain date, and doubtful style, with a narrow nave, a yet smaller chancel, in the south-west corner of which is a tiny hagioscope, and a square wooden tower, surmounted by a low spire. Within this primitive structure, one of the smallest places of worship in England, is an old font, the lid of which bears the date 1665, and some very ancient stained glass has been skilfully dovetailed into the comparatively modern windows.
PERIVALE CHURCH
PERIVALE CHURCH
About two miles away from Perivale, in the same valley, is the scarcely less interesting Greenford Magna, also named after a ford on the Brent. Given by King Ethelred to the monks of the ancient monastery that preceded Edward the Confessor's foundation at Westminster, the manor of Greenford Magna remained the property of the latter until the dissolution of the monasteries, when it was confiscated by Henry VIII., by whom it was given somewhat later to the see of London, to which it still belongs. Its fourteenth-century church, dedicated to the Holy Cross, occupies the site of a Saxon chapel, and greatly resembles that of Perivale in style. It was well restored in 1871, when some of the fifteenth-century glass was successfully incorporated in the new windows, and it contains several well-preserved sixteenth and seventeenth century brasses.
West Twyford
Rivalling the two Greenfords in the romantic beauty of its situation is the little hamlet of West Twyford (so called to distinguish it from the comparatively commonplace village of East Twyford in the neighbouring parish of Willesden), situated partly on the Brent and partly on the Paddington Canal, at a spot where the river makes a very sudden bend. As its name implies, there were in ancient times two fords across the Brent that, according to tradition, were much used by the monks of the monastery that occupied the site of the mansion now known as Twyford Abbey, though there is absolutely no historic proof that any religious house ever existed there. A moated manor-house there certainly was, however, which was pulled down early in the nineteenth century, and there seems little doubt that on the site of the barn-like church of uncertain date was a much earlier chapel—possibly Norman—the property having been held in the eleventh century by the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, who may have owned a clergy-house for the officiating priests. Strange to say, the little sanctuary, now included in the see of London, after changing hands with the manor to which it was attached again and again, long occupied the position of belonging to no parish. It was apparently overlooked when the new ecclesiastical survey was made, and until quite recently it had no incumbent, the owner of Twyford Abbey paying for the services held in it, and when he let his house stipulating that his tenant should provide a clergyman for six Sundays in the year.
Sion House
Within easy reach of Brentford, in the neighbouring parish of Keston, is Oesterley Park, with the famous mansion named after it built by Sir Thomas Gresham, founder of the Royal Exchange, who more than once entertained Queen Elizabeth in it, and which was later owned by the wealthy London merchant, Sir Thomas Child, whose son Robert added two sumptuously decorated wings to it, and formed the nucleus of a fine collection of pictures by the old masters. More interesting than Oesterley House is the celebrated Syon or Sion House, standing in a charming park between Brentford and Isleworth, and occupying the site of a convent of the same name that belonged to a community of Brigittines, a branch of the Augustinian Order founded by St. Bridget of Sweden. This was one of the religious houses endowed, as already related in connection with Richmond, by Henry V. in expiation of his father's usurpation of the English throne, the foundation-stone having been laid by the king himself in 1431. It was originally situated in Twickenham, but soon became far too small for the accommodation of the many holy women who craved admission, and Henry VI. sanctioned the removal of the nuns to a larger house in Isleworth parish, the possession of which was secured to them by Act of Parliament. When or by whom the predecessor of the present Sion House was built is not known, but it is supposed to have been erected at the expense of the Brigittines themselves, who had been joined by many wealthy ladies, and it eventually became one of the richest religious communities of southern England. Many stories are told of the devotion of the sisters, and also, alas! of the decline of piety amongst them as time went on, rumours having even been circulated of gross misconduct amongst them. These were probably, however, mere idle tales purposely spread about by enemies; but there is little doubt that the downfall of the community was hastened by its abbess's espousal of the cause of the so-called Holy Maid of Kent, against whom Henry VIII. was bitterly incensed. In any case, Syon Monastery was one of the first of the great religious houses to be suppressed, and it was turned to account by the king in 1541 as a prison for Catherine Howard whilst her mock trial was going on. By a strange irony of fate her husband's body rested in the chapel—in which she had often prayed during the last few days of her life—on its way to be interred at Windsor, and, according to a gruesome tradition, blood suddenly flowed from it, a proof in popular belief that the queen had been unjustly condemned, and that Henry was indeed her murderer.
The nunnery of Sion and the manor of Isleworth were given by Edward VI. to the Protector Somerset, who at once pulled down the conventual buildings, using the materials for the foundation of the present mansion, that was still uncompleted when its owner's career was cut short by his attainder for high treason. The property then reverted to the Crown, and in 1553 it was given by the young king to John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who had been mainly responsible for the downfall of the Protector. The duke seems to have finished the work of his predecessor, for soon after he took possession of Sion House his son, Lord Robert Dudley, brought home to it his bride, the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey; and it was there that the crown was offered to her on the death of Edward VI. Thence the nine days' queen started by river in a state barge, attended only by a few adherents, on her fatal journey to the Tower, whence four months later she was led forth to execution, after having looked down from her window on the mangled remains of her husband as they were being carried away to their last resting-place.
After the death on the scaffold of the Duke of Northumberland Sion House once more reverted to the Crown, and Queen Mary gave it back to the Brigittines, but few of them cared to return to their transformed old home; and two years later even those few were driven forth again by Queen Elizabeth, who lent the house first to one and then another of her favourites. In 1604 the estate was granted by James I. to Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who nearly lost it through his complicity in the Gunpowder Plot, for which he suffered many years' imprisonment and had to pay a fine of £11,000. He returned to Sion House only a short time before his death, bequeathing it to his son, Algernon Percy, who was made guardian of the children of Charles I., the Dukes of York and Gloucester and the little Princess Elizabeth, who died the year of her father's execution. The royal prisoners, for such they were, appear to have been very happy in their Isleworth retreat, for they were often allowed to go and see their father at Hampton Court, and it was not until they were taken to London to bid him farewell, just before his death, that they realised how terrible was their own position.
By the marriage between Lady Elizabeth Percy and Charles Seymour, Duke of Somerset, Sion House became the property of the latter, and during his ownership it was lent for a time to the Princess Anne, later Queen of England, who there gave birth to a son who lived for an hour only, one of her seventeen children, none of whom grew up. The son of Charles Seymour gave Sion House to his daughter Elizabeth in 1748, and her husband, Sir Hugh Smithson, having been created Duke of Northumberland, it passed back to the old earldom, and has ever since remained in the same family. It was the new duke who gave to the historic mansion the character that now distinguishes it, for he made considerable alterations and additions, entrusting the work to the then renowned architect, Robert Adam, who is said to have consulted Sir Horace Walpole, then living at Twickenham, on the subject of the internal decorations. The gardens, originally laid out by the Protector Somerset, and greatly improved by later owners, were still further enriched with rare plants; hothouses and conservatories were built, and the estate was converted into one of the most charming on the Thames, beautiful lawns, shaded by venerable trees, sloping down to the waterside. The massive quadrangular mansion, with a square tower at each corner, and a noble parapet, the eastern front surmounted by the venerable stone lion, the badge of the Percy family, that was long a familiar figure on the Strand front of the now demolished Northumberland House, rises up in quiet dignity from the park which, though it has none of the varied scenery of its rival at Richmond, is full of quiet charm.
Marble Hill
In addition to Sion House Isleworth still owns a few historic mansions, including Gumley House, named after a seventeenth-century owner; Shrewsbury House, once the home of Charles Talbot, Duke of Shrewsbury, both now convent schools; and Kendal House, long a noted place of entertainment, the last some little distance from the river, on the road to Twickenham. The church, said to have been designed by Sir Christopher Wren, though his plans were modified to save expense, is finely situated on a terrace looking down upon the Thames, and a wooded islet, presenting quite a picturesque appearance, especially when barges and other craft are waiting to be taken up or down stream by the tide. A little above Isleworth is the half-lock that has added so greatly to the usefulness of the upper river as a highway of traffic, and also to the healthiness of the districts on either side by keeping the mud constantly under water. Looking down upon it on the Middlesex side is the somewhat uninteresting suburb of St. Margaret's, occupying the site of the seat of the Marquis of Ailsa; and a little higher up stream is the beautiful park called Marble Hill, after the mansion still standing on it, that was bought in 1903 for the use of the public by the London County Council, aided by many private subscribers, including Sir Max Waechter, already mentioned in connection with the purchase of Petersham Ait. Marble Hill mansion is supposed to have been built in 1723 by Mrs. Howard, one of Queen Caroline's ladies-in-waiting, later Countess of Suffolk, after the designs of Lord Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, on a portion of the grounds of the neighbouring Orleans House, half the expense having been borne by George II. when he was still Prince of Wales. In laying out the grounds the owner had the benefit of the advice of Pope, then living at Twickenham, and also of Dean Swift, at that time in the service of Sir William Temple at Sheen, who is said to have prophesied that Mrs. Howard would certainly be ruined by her lavish outlay. That she was not is proved by the fact that she died at Marble Hill, leaving a fortune behind her; and later her old home was occupied by Mrs. Fitzherbert, who is said by some authorities to have been married in it to the Prince of Wales, later George IV., though others assert that the ceremony took place in her house in Park Lane. However that may be, she was certainly at her riverside home in 1795 when the wedding of her lover with the Princess Caroline of Brunswick took place, and she there held a little court of those loyal friends who believed in the legality of her union to the king.
ISLEWORTH
ISLEWORTH
Most picturesquely situated opposite the famous Petersham meadows and the no less celebrated Eel Pie Island, the resort on summer evenings of hundreds of pleasure-seekers, Twickenham, the name of which is supposed to have reference to the two streams that here flow into the Thames, was originally a hamlet of Isleworth that belonged, before the Conquest, partly to a monastery at Hounslow, and partly to the monks of Christchurch Abbey, Canterbury. On the suppression of the monasteries the property was added by Henry VIII. to the Hampton Court demesne; and later Charles I. gave the manor to Queen Henrietta Maria, to whom, after its temporary alienation by Parliament, it was restored on the accession of Charles II. The so-called manor-house of Twickenham, also known as Aragon Tower, occupies the site of an earlier building in which, according to tradition, Katharine of Aragon resided after her divorce; but the home of the Saxon owners of the property is supposed to have been in Twickenham Park, now built over, some authorities asserting that William the Conqueror himself lived in it for a short time. Whether this be true or not, there was not far from the first Sion House a mansion that belonged in the later sixteenth century to Lord Bacon, who entertained Queen Elizabeth in it in 1592. The brilliant prose writer was deeply attached to his Twickenham home, and grieved greatly when in 1601 he was compelled to sell it to meet his pressing necessities, receiving, it is said, only £1800 for it. During the next three centuries it changed hands again and again, and in 1803 its owner had it pulled down and sold the estate in plots for building. Its fate was later shared by many another historic home, but Cambridge House, named after the poet Richard Owen Cambridge, who occupied it for some years in the early nineteenth century, Orleans and York Houses still remain to bear witness to the days when Twickenham was an aristocratic suburb. The former is named after Louis-Philippe, who occupied it for some time when he was Duke of Orleans; the latter was for some time the property of Lord Clarendon, who settled it on his daughter, Anne Hyde, when she became the wife of James, Duke of York; and in it were born the Princesses Mary and Anne, who were both to become Queens of England.
A little higher up stream is a modern villa popularly known as Pope's, though as a matter of fact the house beloved of the poet, on which he lavished a fortune, was pulled down in 1807, and all that now remains to recall the time of his ownership is the subterranean passage leading from its grounds to the Teddington Road, that was once lined with an ornate shell grotto. It is fortunately far otherwise with the equally celebrated home of Horace Walpole, known as Strawberry Hill, that stands a little back from the river between Twickenham and Teddington, for though certain details have been modified it still retains the general appearance it presented when first completed by its owner. Originally a mere cottage, the future Strawberry Hill was bought by Walpole in 1747 from a certain Mrs. Chevenix, and the best years of the famous letter writer's life were spent in superintending its adornment. The guests he received at Twickenham included pretty well all the celebrities of the day, and his most important publications were issued from his private printing-press there. When on the death, in 1791, of his eldest brother's only son, he became Earl of Orford, he refused to take the title, preferring to remain plain Horace Walpole of Strawberry Hill; and before his death, which took place six years later, he bequeathed his beloved home to the sculptor Mrs. Damer in the hope that she would respect its traditions. In 1811 it became the property of the Dowager-Countess of Waldegrave, and since then it has changed hands several times, passing through various vicissitudes of neglect and restoration.
Twickenham
The parish church of Twickenham must have originally been a very picturesque feature of the village, and the ancient battlemented tower still presents a charming appearance from the river; but on to it was built, in the early eighteenth century, a barnlike red-brick structure that harmonises very ill with it, and is said to have been designed by Sir Godfrey Kneller, then churchwarden, who lived in a house near by—still known as Kneller Hall, now the Royal Military School of Music—and is buried beneath the central aisle, his contemporary Pope resting not far from him. Amongst the monuments in the church is one erected by the latter to the memory of his parents, which Lady Kneller tried in vain to persuade the poet to remove after the death of her husband, to make room for a memorial she wished to put up in his honour; and on the outer wall are some interesting tablets, including one to the famous comic actress Kitty Clive, who lived in a cottage belonging to Horace Walpole called Little Strawberry Hill, later occupied by the Misses Berry, to whom it was bequeathed for their lifetime, and one to the beloved nurse of Pope, bearing the following touching inscription: 'To the memory of Mary Beach, who died November 25th, 1725, aged 75, Alexander Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy, and constantly attended for twenty-eight years, in gratitude to a faithful servant, erected this stone.'
Little now remains in the populous modern suburb of Twickenham to recall the days when Dickens wrote in it his romance of Oliver Twist, certain scenes of which are laid at Isleworth, and the great artist Turner lived in Sandelcombe Lodge, that was recently sold by auction, fetching £865, but the view up and down stream is still practically the same as it was a century ago. The short reach between Strawberry Hill and Teddington Lock is one of the most beautiful on the Thames, charming alike when deserted but for a few barges being quanted slowly along, and when crowded with pleasure craft. Specially fascinating are the scenes that take place below the lock, when electric launches, skiffs, and punts, full of gaily dressed women and men in boating costume, await their turn for the opening of the gates; at the Rollers, and in the quiet pool above them, specially beloved of fishermen, that contrasts forcibly with the noisy weir, the foam-flecked rush of water forming a striking background to the groups of yachts and wherries moored to the Middlesex bank and beneath the Suspension Bridge.
It is to its lock and its near vicinity to Bushey Park and Hampton Court that Teddington owes its ever-increasing prosperity. In Saxon times, when its name—the meaning of which is obscure, for the suggestion that it signifies the Tide-end Town is untenable—was spelt Totyngton, it was a mere hamlet of Staines, yet the honour of having been its original manor-house has been claimed for three mansions, each of which is said to have served as a hunting-lodge to Queen Elizabeth. Only one of these is still standing, that built by Lord Buckhurst some years after the maiden queen had passed away; and the more famous residences at one time occupied by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and the noted Quaker William Penn, who in 1688 dated his protest against being called a Papist from Teddington, have also been pulled down; whilst of the parish church, in which the latter may often have worshipped, the only relic is the sixteenth-century southern aisle, the rest of the building dating from the eighteenth century. It contains, however, a few interesting monuments, including one to the faithful servant of Charles I., Sir Orlando Bridgman, who represented his doomed master at the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht; and on one of the walls is a tablet to the memory of the famous beauty, Peg Woffington, who, after her tragic breakdown when acting as Rosalind in 1757, retired to Teddington, where she died three years later.
BUSHEY PARK
BUSHEY PARK
Bushey Park
The riverside scenery above Teddington, especially near the long picturesque island opposite Thames Ditton, is very charming, and away from the water is the beautiful Bushey Park, that rivals in popularity even its neighbour of Hampton Court. Long jealously reserved for the use of its royal owners, the estate, which is more than eleven hundred acres in extent, has been open to the public since 1752, when a certain Timothy Bennet, a local shoemaker, succeeded, by dint of dogged persistence, of winning a free passage through it for ever, or, to be more strictly accurate, in obtaining the restoration of ancient rights that had been filched away. The story goes that Bennet, who, as he sat at work in his shop, had been in the habit of watching the number of pedestrians who passed through the park on their way to and from Kingston, was moved to bitter indignation when he learned that the gates had been closed by order of the ranger, Lord Halifax. He consulted a lawyer, declaring that he would gladly spend all his savings, which amounted to about £700, to win back the old privilege, and was told that all that was needed was for him 'to try the right.' A notice was therefore served on the ranger, who summoned Timothy before him, thinking to overawe him easily, but the shoemaker's rough eloquence so won upon the great man that the latter, in spite of all the opposition of the lawyers on the side of the Crown, ordered the road through the park to be reopened, and it has never since been closed.
The chief glory of Bushey Park is the triple avenue of horse-chestnuts, more than a mile long, that was planted by William III., who longed to reproduce in England some of the characteristics of his native land. When in full bloom the trees present an appearance of unique beauty, crowds from far and near flocking to see them, but even at other times the park is full of charm, forming one of the most delightful recreation-grounds near London. The rangership, long a coveted appointment, was at one time held by Lord North, the minister whose fatal policy brought about the American War of Independence; and later the Lodge, a substantial red-brick building near the Teddington entrance, was the residence of William IV. when Duke of Clarence.
The twin villages of Hampton Wick and Hampton, the former below, the latter above, the riverside grounds of Hampton Court, have little that is distinctive about them in spite of their exceptionally beautiful situation, looking down upon the Thames, which is here dotted with picturesque islets. Hampton Wick prides itself on having been for some years the home of the famous essayist Sir Richard Steele, who dated from what he called his hovel in it the dedication of the fourth volume of The Tatler to Lord Halifax, first ranger of Bushey Park, and builder of the Lodge referred to above. Hampton glories in still owning the house beloved of David Garrick, who often withdrew to it for rest between 1754 and 1779, receiving in it as his guests Horace Walpole, Dr. Johnson, and many other distinguished men, whom he used to entertain with night-fêtes in the grounds.
Hampton Court
In Hampton Court the romantic interest of outlying London may perhaps be said to culminate, for no other place within easy reach of the capital is associated with quite so many thrilling memories, or has retained, in spite of all alterations, an equal number of the characteristic features of its evolution. In the quiet courts and cloisters overlooked by the picturesque gables and turrets of Wolsey's building, and in the beautiful gardens in which the anxious minister so often paced to and fro pondering over the many problems that harassed him, his spirit still seems to linger; the magnificent hall of Henry vili., in which took place so many stately banquets and gorgeous ceremonies, and the richly decorated chapel in which two of the despotic monarch's marriages were solemnised, appear to be haunted by the ghosts of his murdered wives, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, and of the scarcely less ill-fated Jane Seymour, who paid with her life for the birth of the long-desired heir to the throne, and is said to be unable to rest in her grave because of her remorse for having been the cause of the execution of her predecessor. Now the young monarch, Edward VI., and his stern guardian, the Protector Somerset, loom forth from the dim past, and behind them the imagination conjures up the shadowy form of Mrs. Penn, who on the death of the infant prince's mother was chosen to be his nurse, and was greatly beloved not only by him, but by his father and sisters. Henry VIII. gave her an estate in the country, but she attended her foster-son wherever he went, and after his early death she resided in apartments reserved to her at Hampton Court, till she too passed away. She was buried in the parish church of Hampton, a full-length recumbent effigy portrait surmounting her tomb, that is still preserved in the modern Gothic building replacing an earlier place of worship; but her grave has been rifled of its contents, and since the desecration took place she has been supposed to haunt her old rooms, and many have asserted that they have seen her groping along in them with outstretched hands as if seeking for some lost treasure. To these phantoms succeed those of Edward's melancholy sister Mary and of her sombre bridegroom Philip, who repells her ardent expressions of affection with forbidding coldness, the ill-assorted pair in their turn giving place to the stately maiden queen Elizabeth and her train of richly garbed courtiers, all vying with each other in their eagerness to prove their devotion to her person. Again the scene changes, and the hapless Charles I. comes forth, closely attended by his guards, to walk for the last time round the precincts of the palace that has served as his prison, where but a little later his arch-enemy, Cromwell, was to reign supreme. Now a wedded pair as ill-assorted as Philip and Mary, Charles II. and the childless Catherine of Braganza, hold their court in the historic building, that was in the reign of William III. to be enlarged and redecorated, assuming much the appearance it now presents, for the Georges did little to alter it, and it has not been used as a royal residence since 1795.
In the time of Edward the Confessor the manor of Hamntone, as it was then called, was owned by the Saxon Earl Algar, and in the Doomsday Survey it is referred to as the property of the Norman, Walter de St. Valeric, its value being assessed at £39. It remained in the possession of the same family for a century and a half, after which it passed to Henry de St. Albans, who either presented or let it to the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, then one of the most powerful religious communities of Europe, by whom it was held until 1514, when the then prior, Sir Thomas Docwra, granted a ninety-nine years' lease of it to 'The Most Rev. Father in God, Thomas Wolsey, Archbishop of Canterbury,' at a yearly rent of £50. Before that all-important event in its history, however, the property had become greatly increased by gifts of land and money, and was already known as Hampton Court, the word court signifying, as is sometimes overlooked, merely that part of an estate in which the owner lives. That the Knights Hospitallers had a residence of some importance is proved by the fact that they occasionally received as their guests various members of the royal family, who, as early as the fourteenth century, showed a great predilection for Hampton. Many pilgrims, too, flocked from long distances to worship in the little chapel connected with the priory, that was credited with special sanctity, and to it in 1503 came Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry VII., to pray for the safe delivery of her expected child, and to spend a quiet week in retreat before returning by water to Richmond, where she died a month later.
The Knights Hospitallers had scarcely left their old home before the new owner began to pull it down, to make way for a building which he determined should rival in magnificence every other private residence in the kingdom. The grounds of the ancient manor-house, hitherto mere grazing lands, were converted into a park and enclosed within a massive red-brick wall bearing here and there a cross in black bricks, the emblem of the cardinal-archbishop, two or three of which still remain in spite of Henry VIII.'s orders, given as soon as he took possession of the property, that every trace of its having once belonged to the fallen minister should be removed. The site of the future palace and its gardens was encircled by a deep moat, traces of which can be made out on the northern side, an elaborate system of drainage was established, and a constant supply of pure water secured from the springs at Coombe Hill, three miles away, Wolsey proving himself far in advance of his time in his knowledge of sanitary science. The healthiness of his retreat thus secured, the work of building went on apace, a whole army of surveyors, architects, builders, and masons, etc.,—from amongst whom emerge the names of James Bettes master, Lawrence Stubbs paymaster, Nicolas Tounley comptroller of the works, and the Rev. Mr. Williams decorator,—toiling continuously under the superintendence of Wolsey himself, who was able to receive the king and queen for the first time in May 1516, when the royal party were entertained with all manner of pageants, masques, and mummeries, in some of which Henry himself took a prominent part.
The next few years were the happiest in the cardinal's life. He was still the king's most trusted servant, the master of boundless wealth, and no shadow from the melancholy future had as yet fallen across his path. Whenever he was able to get away from London, he hastened to his beloved home at Hampton, on which he continued to lavish vast sums of money, constantly adding to its art treasures, and causing his own apartments—several of which, including that known as his closet, remain as they were when occupied by him—to be decorated by the best artificers of the day.
It is, unfortunately, impossible now to determine the exact limits of Wolsey's buildings, but they appear to have occupied much the same area as those now standing, which include the additions of Henry VIII. and William III., so that they form a kind of epitome of domestic architecture from Tudor to Renaissance times. It is certain, however, that the west front and the utter or outer court with the clock tower, beneath which are the cardinal's arms in terra-cotta that somehow escaped Henry's jealous zeal, were entirely the work of Wolsey, and it must have been at the western gateway that he received his many royal and noble guests. At which date this beautiful residence was transferred by its builder to his exacting sovereign, who from the first seems to have greatly coveted it, is not known, but it is generally supposed to have been in 1525 or 1526 that the oft-told incident occurred, when Henry asked Wolsey why he had built himself so magnificent a house, to which with outer calmness but a sinking heart the cardinal replied, 'To show how noble a palace a subject may offer to his sovereign.' The gift was of course at once accepted, but the doomed minister was allowed to remain practically master of Hampton Court for some time longer, as proved by the fact that in 1527 he there received with great magnificence the French ambassador and his retinue, and that in 1528 he invited Archbishop Warham to spend a few days with him. As late, indeed, as 1529 Henry and Katharine of Aragon were again his guests, but before the year was over he had left his beloved home for ever. In August of that year the king took formal possession of the palace, accompanied not only by the queen, but by Anne Boleyn, for whom a beautiful suite of rooms had been set apart which she had long since chosen. Very soon the appearance of the palace was completely transformed, Henry's chief desire having apparently been to destroy everything that could remind him of the man he had once loved so well and trusted so entirely. A magnificent new hall with a beautiful hammer-beam roof replaced the one in which Wolsey had so often entertained his ungrateful master, a new chapel, new galleries, and new suites of apartments were built, the work going merrily on in spite of all the exciting events that were taking place in the rest of the palace. Hampton Court soon knew Katharine of Aragon no more, and Anne Boleyn, who had given birth in it to a still-born son, was succeeded by Jane Seymour, the change of queen making no difference in the daily routine, though the king gave orders for the initials A.B. to be changed to J.S. in the decorations of his wife's private apartments. Edward VI. was born, and his mother died in 1537, the former event being made the excuse for fresh expenditure on rooms for the infant prince, whilst the latter affected the widower but little, though he left Hampton Court before the funeral, declaring that he could not bear to be present at it. For some little time after the death of Jane Seymour the palace served chiefly as a nursery for the heir to the throne, and in 1540 Anne of Cleves resided in it for a short time whilst contentedly awaiting her divorce; but as soon as it was obtained she withdrew to Richmond, and the king brought home to Hampton Court his new bride, Catherine Howard, who really seemed likely long to retain his affection. From their beautiful riverside home the newly married pair started on an extended wedding trip, returning to keep Christmas at the palace, but before that festival came round again the enemies of Catherine had managed to poison her husband's mind against her. It was on All Souls' Day, 1541, when the king and queen were at mass in the chapel, that Cranmer secretly handed to the former a paper containing, it is said, convincing proof of Catherine's unfaithfulness, and with his usual impetuosity Henry at once decided to get rid of her. The unfortunate lady was ordered to withdraw to her own apartments, a strict guard was placed over her, and early the next morning the king rode away determined never to see her again. The story goes that in spite of the vigilance of her attendants Catherine managed to elude them all and to intercept her husband as he was leaving his bedroom, but he sternly refused to listen to her, and she was dragged away weeping and wringing her hands. Yet once more, in 1543, the king brought a bride to Hampton Court, the staid and tactful Catherine Parr, who managed successfully to play the rôle of mother to the three children of her predecessors, and, until her husband died, even to keep the peace with him.
During the last few years of his life Henry was constantly at the palace, and when he became too infirm to hunt at a distance he quietly set about enclosing within the boundaries of his Honour of Hampton a vast tract of country on the Surrey side of the river, taking in many manors and villages, including East and West Molesey, stocking the commons, meadows, and pastures with 'beasts of venery and fowls of warren,' and appointing officers to ensure the punishment of any who should offend against the laws of the chase, which were to be the same as those governing the ancient forests belonging to the Crown. To this very high-handed proceeding the owners of the property were compelled to submit, but after the death of the king his son had the enclosures taken down and the 'beasts of venery' removed, reserving the right, however, of restoring them at any future time, so that technically the lands in question still belong to the Crown.
Though Edward VI. and Queen Mary were both a good deal at Hampton Court, it was not until the reign of Queen Elizabeth that it was again the scene of such pageants as had been of constant occurrence during the reign of their father. The maiden queen, however, was greatly attached to it, often holding her court there, and it was in its great hall that the council met on October 30, 1568, which practically decided the fate of Mary, Queen of Scots, though it was not until December 4 of the same year, the day after a second consultation, when the Regent James, Earl of Murray, gave to the Queen of England the fatal casket containing the letters and poems that were supposed to prove his sister's guilt, that Elizabeth felt free to pronounce her doom.
In the reign of James I. the most important event that took place at Hampton Court was the meeting of the conference between the representatives of the Established Church and the Presbyterians, at which the king was said by the former to have greatly distinguished himself by his eloquence, whilst the latter dwelt angrily on his plausible duplicity, that really had a good deal to do with the inauguration of the troubles that finally brought his son to the scaffold. As is well known, Charles I. greatly loved Hampton Court; he was there for a short time after his accession with his newly wedded queen, then a mere child, and it was there, too, many years afterwards, that he had his last real intercourse with his children, who, as already related, were often allowed to visit him when they were living at Sion House under the care of the guardian appointed by the Parliament. Thence, alarmed by rumours of a plot against his life, the unfortunate king escaped on November 11, 1647, first to Oatlands and then to the Isle of Wight.
Whilst he was Lord Protector of England, Cromwell often resided at Hampton Court; in its chapel his beloved daughter Mary was married in 1657 to Viscount Falconbridge, and in one of its rooms her sister, Mrs. Claypole, died in 1658, after a short illness, to the bitter grief of her father, who had her body taken by river to Westminster, to be buried with almost regal pomp in Westminster Abbey. Her loss was indeed the death-blow of the harassed ruler, for though he lived three months longer he was never the same again. He was removed in a dying state from Hampton Court to Whitehall, and after he had passed away it was decided that the palace should be sold and its contents dispersed. Fortunately, however, the historic building escaped that fate, but though it was several times occupied by Charles II. and James II., it was not until the accession of William III. that it again played any important part in the history of England. From the first the newly elected monarch and his wife showed a very special predilection for their estate at Hampton, and Sir Christopher Wren was soon commissioned to add to the palace an extensive group of buildings that now, with the great hall of Henry VIII., form its most important features. Unfortunately Wren's alterations necessitated the pulling down of two of Wolsey's courts, that had been spared by the cardinal's royal supplanter, but in spite of this it must be conceded that the famous architect triumphantly achieved a most difficult task, for the magnificent state apartments designed by him, though in a totally different style from that of the earlier buildings, are yet not out of harmony with them.
Later, the grounds were as completely transformed as the Tudor palace itself had been. The fine terrace known as the Broad Walk was made, many new fountains were added to those already in the gardens, the still popular Maze or Labyrinth was planted, the beautiful gate called the Flower-Pot—from the baskets of flowers upheld by boys on the stone piers flanking it—was erected, and the yet more effective wrought-iron screens designed by Jean Tijou, a Frenchman in the employ of Sir Christopher Wren, recently, after various wanderings, restored to their original position, were set up at the riverside end of what is known as the Priory Garden, separating it from the towing-path.
Soon after their first arrival at Hampton Court William and Mary received as their guest the Princess Anne, daughter of the exiled James II., who had been married in 1683 to Prince George of Denmark. As heir-presumptive of the English throne, the princess was very cordially disliked by the king and queen, whose jealousy was greater than ever when, on July 4, 1689, she gave birth to a son, the Duke of Gloucester. The boy was baptized in the chapel of Hampton Court, William III. standing godfather, but the child died in 1700, two years before his mother became queen. As was not unnatural, considering all that she had suffered there, Anne cared little for Hampton Court, preferring her palaces at Kensington and Windsor, but she commissioned the painter Verrio and the sculptor Grinling Gibbons to supplement the already lavish decorations with ceiling paintings and mural carvings. Her successors, George I. and George II., on the other hand, were very fond of the palace, but they left it much as they found it, except that the former had the ceiling of the state bedchamber painted by Sir James Thornhill.
It was in the reign of George III., who never resided at Hampton Court, that the famous Black Hamburgh vine, the largest in England, was planted, and it was the same monarch who first turned the palace to account by assigning apartments in it to people of rank and distinction, to whom for one reason or another he wished to show favour. Since then, though it has never again been the abode of royalty, it has been the scene of many gatherings of celebrities. At one time, for instance, it was the home of the Countess of Mornington, mother of the great Duke of Wellington and the astute statesman Lord Wellesley, and in it lived for several years Mrs. Tom Sheridan, daughter-in-law of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, one of whose daughters was the Queen of Beauty at the Eglinton Tournament of 1839, and another the wife of the Marquis of Dufferin, whose son, the late Lord Dufferin and Ava, became Viceroy of India.
It was in 1838 that Queen Victoria decided to admit all her subjects free of fee to the state apartments and grounds of her palace at Hampton, a generous policy, the wisdom of which has been conclusively proved by the ever-increasing numbers of those who show their appreciation of the fine works of art preserved in the galleries and their delight in the beauty of the grounds. The grand old demesne is indeed a notable witness to the continuity of the present with the past, and to the close union between the people and their rulers, that in spite of the growth of democracy is still distinctive of England, and is her best hope for the future.
In addition to the many standard works on London as a whole, including those by Sir Walter Besant, Edward Walford, James Thorne, G. E. Mitton, and others, the author of the present volume has consulted William Howitt's Northern Heights of London; The Records of Hampstead, edited by F. E. Baines; The Hampstead Annals; The Transactions of the Antiquarian and Historical Society of Hampstead; Wyldes and its Story, by Mrs. Arthur Wilson; Harrow, by J. Fischer Williams; Epping Forest, by Edward North Buxton; Chislehurst Caves and Dene Holes, by W. G. Nicholls; The History and Antiquities of Richmond, Kew, Petersham, and Ham, by G. Beresford Chancellor; Ham House, by Dr. Williamson; Bygone Putney, by Ernest Hammond; The History of Hampton Court, by Ernest Law; supplementing them by the collection of recent information on the spot in the various districts treated.