Durham House.—It appears that a large house was standing on this spot in 1694, it was then called the Ship House, and is said traditionally to have been a tavern, and frequented by the workmen whilst the Royal Hospital was building. The present structure, which was built in the beginning of the last century, has been distinguished for a great number of years as an eminent school. It is at present in the occupation of the Rev. John Wilson, D.D., of Holy Trinity Church, Knightsbridge.
Durham Place was built in 1790, by Mr. Richardson, who was for many years steward to the Lord of the Manor; he resided in the detached house adjoining, on the north, which had extensive grounds, and was called by him Manor House.
Green’s Row, a little eastward, was built in 1765. It was for many years the property of a Mr. Green, an extensive brewer. In one of these houses Henry Blunt, Esq., father of the late Rev. H. Blunt, resided for a considerable period. Mr. Blunt, sen., was universally respected in the parish. He held a commission in Queen Charlotte’s Chelsea Royal Volunteers.
In Rayner Place resided Philip Burrard, Esq., for many years. He served the office of churchwarden of the parish, &c., and was a captain in the old Chelsea Volunteers.
Mr. Robert Farrier, a celebrated artist and portrait painter, has resided in Hemus Terrace for some years. He is a very old inhabitant, and much respected.
On the site of this noble establishment—the home of our military veterans—was originally a college or place of education for controversial divines. It was projected by Dr. Sutcliffe, Dean of Exeter, in the reign of James I. The king was one of its best patrons, and supported it by various grants and benefactions; he himself laid the first stone of the edifice, in 1609; gave timber requisite for the building, and ordered that when erected it should be called “King James’s College at Chelsey.” Thus fortified, Dean Sutcliffe experienced no difficulty in obtaining from Charles, Earl of Nottingham, an advantageous lease of a plot of land which the latter held under the Crown, and which was called “Thame Shot,” for which he paid the yearly rent of seven pounds ten shillings. A charter of incorporation was granted, which limited the number of its members to a provost and nineteen fellows, of whom seventeen were to be in holy orders, the other two might be laymen. Their employment was to consist in noticing and recording the principal historical and religious events which might occur during the time they remained in office; but none of the members, on being elected bishops, could be permitted to retain their fellowships; by this charter, also, the college was enabled to use a corporate seal. The building, however, progressed but slowly. The Dean’s funds became exhausted; the proceeds of the king’s letter proved small. Out of two quadrangles which it was contemplated to erect, and of which the lesser was to be internally surrounded by a piazza, only a portion of one side was completed. Still the number of those who took an interest in the matter daily increased, and were far from despairing. “The work we confess,” says Darley, “hitherto proceeded slowly; and no marvel, seeing great works are not easily achieved. Noah’s Ark, God’s Tabernacle and Temple, &c., were long in building; and do we wonder that this college is not finished?”
Several causes contributed to render the king’s appeal through the medium of the bishops of slight avail. In the first place, the expenses attending the collection of briefs were then inordinate. The money, after it had been gathered, passed through many hands, each of which took care to attach a portion to itself; while the efforts made about the same time to pushforward the building of St. Paul’s Cathedral stood very much in the way of the completion of King James’s College.[188]With James I. died the only conscientious supporter, excepting the founder, and a few churchmen; the death of Sutcliffe was a deadly blight upon the prospects of his infant college. It was afterwards converted into a place for prisoners of war; and, with the manor, of which the Parliament took forcible possession, was ultimately put up to sale. Darley says, “It became a cage of unclean beasts, a stable for horses; and not only a place to make leaden guns in, but desired also for a palcestra to manage great horses and to practise horsemanship.” A print of the original design of this college was prefixed to a small book, called “The Glory of Chelsey College,” by John Darley, B.D., Rector of Northill, Cornwall. 1662. Archbishop Laud called it sneeringly “Controversy College.”
In 1667, Charles II. resolved on granting this college to the Royal Society, which was about that time incorporated. And as a grant of the manor of Chelsea had been made to the Duke of Hamilton by Charles I., the heirs of that nobleman now conveyed it to Andrew Cole, in trust, for that learned body. The Society, however, did not hold their sittings in it, probably from its dilapidated state; they ultimately conveyed it, in 1681, to Sir Stephen Fox, for the king’s use, in order to build Chelsea Hospital, for the sum of £1,300.
I will now give a description of the establishment of Chelsea Hospital. The building, as it now stands, was begun by Charles II., continued during the short reign of his successor, and completed by William and Mary.
It has been just stated that the site of King James’s College was purchased of the Royal Society for the purpose of erecting this Hospital; but not being found sufficient, the lands lying between the College and the river Thames, and that in front of the present Hospital, now called Burton’s Court, were also purchased of Lord Cheyne and Sir Thomas Grosvenor, for about the sum of £1100. About twenty-two acres of this land, lying on the eastern side, were, in 1690, granted by the Crown to the Earl of Ranelagh.
There are several pleasing legends told as to the origin of Chelsea Hospital. The following is one of them:—The King was sitting in his chariot, with poor Nell Gwynne, when observing her unusually pensive, he asked:
“What ails thee, Nell?”She replied: “A dream I had last night, troubleth me sore.”“Whatwasthy dream, Nell?”“Methought I was in the fields at Chelsea, and slowly and majestically there rose before mine eyes, a beautiful palace of a thousand chambers; and in and out thereat walked divers many old and worn-out soldier-men. Some had lost a leg, some an arm, others were blind of an eye, many bore piteous scars of old wounds in the wars, upon their wrinkled faces, and all of them were aged, and past service. But none of them looked ill-at-ease, and as they went out, and as they came in, the old men cried, ‘God bless King Charles!’ and I awoke, and was sore discomfitted, that it was only a dream!”“Cheer up, Nelly,” said the King. “Thy dream shall be fulfilled, mayhap, thou shalt yet see old soldiers come in, and go out, crying, ‘God bless King Charles!’ The monarch did violence to his infirmity, and kept his word.”
“What ails thee, Nell?”
She replied: “A dream I had last night, troubleth me sore.”
“Whatwasthy dream, Nell?”
“Methought I was in the fields at Chelsea, and slowly and majestically there rose before mine eyes, a beautiful palace of a thousand chambers; and in and out thereat walked divers many old and worn-out soldier-men. Some had lost a leg, some an arm, others were blind of an eye, many bore piteous scars of old wounds in the wars, upon their wrinkled faces, and all of them were aged, and past service. But none of them looked ill-at-ease, and as they went out, and as they came in, the old men cried, ‘God bless King Charles!’ and I awoke, and was sore discomfitted, that it was only a dream!”
“Cheer up, Nelly,” said the King. “Thy dream shall be fulfilled, mayhap, thou shalt yet see old soldiers come in, and go out, crying, ‘God bless King Charles!’ The monarch did violence to his infirmity, and kept his word.”
No appeal seems to have been made to the public at large, as was the case with King James’s College; but while the voluntary contributions of the charitable were received with gratitude, the troops were, to a certain extent, burdened with the expenses of the asylum from which they were themselves to derive the sole benefit. From the pay given to these, a deduction was made of one shilling in the pound; which, being divided into three equal parts, was one to defray the expenses of the Paymaster’s office, one to the general use of the soldiers, and one to the accumulation of a fund, first, for the building, and ultimately for the maintenance of the hospital. By giving to this a retrospective effect, so as to include the whole of the year 1680, and strengthened by donations of £1,300 from Sir Stephen Fox, of £1,000 from Tobias Rustas, Esq., of £1,000 from Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, and of nearly £7,000 from the Secret Service Fund, the projectors of the establishment had at their disposal a sum of £17,012 14s. 7d. with which they determined to make a beginning.
The edifice was consequently begun in the year 1682, but was not completed till 1690. King Charles II., attended by a great number of the principal nobility and gentry, laid the first stone of this magnificent structure on the 16th of February, 1682. The whole expense of the building is computed to have amounted to £150,000.
Sir Christopher Wren, to whose genius and abilities we owe the grandest edifices of which our metropolis can boast, gave the original design, and conducted the building to its completion.
Chelsea Hospital is generally considered to be a fine specimen of Sir Christopher Wren’s professional abilities. It possesses a superior air of grandeur, more spacious arrangement of the principal parts, greater attention to the central points, for grace and effect, and a higher degree of chastity maintained in the whole structure than any public design entered into by Sir Christopher Wren, or his immediate successors.
At the grand entrance, from the King’s Road, are four detached stone piers, with breaks, with an entablature, on which are military trophies. These piers, by their disposure, give three passes; the iron gates much modernised; dwarf walls, having cornices in succession, containing small door-ways. Two lodges, right and left, carry on the line, containing four compartments, or blank windows each.
The central approach, from the King’s Road to the north general front of the Hospital, including the Royal Avenue, has a very imposing effect, with trees on either side.
It would be impossible to give in this work an architectural description of Chelsea Hospital, or of its arrangements. It is within the reach of every inhabitant of London, and now as our country friends have the benefit of frequent railway excursions, almost every person in the country, may at any time give this home of England’s worn out and gallant defenders a personal inspection. Still it is necessary that a general sketch of the building and grounds should be given. I have therefore extracted most of the following particulars from Mr. Gleig’s admirable work.
Chelsea Hospital occupies, with the buildings, courts, gardens, and offices attached, an area of something more than 54 square acres. Its principal courts, or quadrangles, are three in number;of which the central alone existed in 1690, though the good taste of a modern architect has provided that no discordance in style should be anywhere perceptible between the nucleus and the additions which have, from to time, gathered round it. Over the whole, there hangs an air of sobered and collegiate repose, as far removed from gloom on the one hand, as from garishness on the other; a character every way suitable to the purposes to which the edifice has been set apart, and in strict accordance with the habits and condition of its inmates.
The central court, which is open towards the south, and separated from what are called the water-gardens only by an iron railing, is closed in on the east and west by two ranges of buildings 365ft. in length by 40 in width; on the north and south by the hall and chapel, divided one from the other by a handsome cupola and gateway. In these long buildings, or wings, to the extent at least of 200ft. the old soldiers are chiefly housed—that is to say, such of them as are rated in the hospital books as privates, corporals, and sergeants. Sixteen wards or barracks arranged each into 26 bed places, furnish the men with adequate accommodation; while the sergeants occupy cabins, closed in, one at each extremity of the ward, in which it is their duty to preserve order. For the captains and light-horse distinct lodgings are provided. At the southern extremity of each wing, so as to project into the water-gardens, are the apartments of the Governor and the Lieutenant-Governor, both comfortable dwellings, altogether free from ostentation, yet well fitted for the uses of the distinguished officers to whom the honour of presiding over the first of England’s military establishments may be assigned.
“Go with old Thames, view Chelsea’s glorious pile,And ask the shatter’d hero whence his smiles;Go view the splendid domes of Greenwich—go,And own what raptures from reflection flow.”—Rogers.
“Go with old Thames, view Chelsea’s glorious pile,And ask the shatter’d hero whence his smiles;Go view the splendid domes of Greenwich—go,And own what raptures from reflection flow.”—Rogers.
The Chapel and Hall present, when examined from without, a perfect uniformity of appearance. Each has its plain brick front, indented with tall arched windows; and each appears to lean upon the noble stone pillars that flank the central gateway; while along that face that looks in upon the square, is a piazza, or covered gallery. Beneath are benches, on which the old men may occasionally be seen smoking their pipes in the heat of a summer’s day; while from either end branches off a passage, opening out a communication with the lesser or flankingquadrangles. Moreover, the cornice of this piazza bears a neat inscription, indicative of the purpose which the hospital is meant to serve, and partly commemorative of the names of the sovereigns to whom the country stands indebted for so noble an institution.
The Hall is 110 ft. in length, and 30 in width; an oblong of the best proportions, in length, width, and height, befitting the purposes of the Royal Institution. Wainscotting with compartments rise to the sills of the windows, and is continued to the high pace. At the entrance end, compartments also, with a gallery supported by ornamented cantalivers; on the centre of the gallery a large ornamental shield with the Royal Arms of Charles II. most exquisitely carved.
Over the gallery is a large allegorical picture, painted by Ward, representing Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington, in a triumphal car, trampling upon the emblems of War, Anarchy, and Rebellion, whilst Victory is crowning him, and Peace and her attendant deities are following in her train. It was purposely painted for the Hospital, and a present from the British Institution. Concerts, in honour of Queen Anne’s coronation, were performed in the great Hall of the Hospital, in the year 1702, under the direction of Mr. Abel, singing master.
There is a statue of Charles II. in the centre of the square, cast in bronze, in the garb of a Roman warrior, and facing the north. It is said to be the production of Gibbons; but as a mere work of art, it cannot be very highly commended.
With respect to the lesser or flanking squares, they are given up entirely to the lodgings of the officers of the establishment, to public offices, including clerks’ chambers, board-room, &c., and, as has just been stated, to the accommodation of a certain number of captains and light-horsemen. In both, the buildings are lower and less solid than those which surround the principal square. But the general character is the same throughout. Brick walls, inlaid with a profusion of square windows, all of them deep seated, and carefully touched in the mouldings; free-stone finishings to each angle, gateways flanked by free-stone pillars, and a roof universally high, and covered with grey shining slate, point to a period when, in the arrangement of such edifices, every approach to a classic model was in this country carefully eschewed.
Let us return to a further description of the Hall, and also notice some events which have taken place in it.
Over the high table, and occupying the whole length of the western face, is another painting, which was designed and begun by Verrio, though finished by Henry Cook, representing Charles II. on horseback, surrounded by groups of heathen gods, with a distant view of Chelsea Hospital in the background. This painting was the gift of one of the Earls of Ranelagh. Flags and trophies, taken in battle, are suspended round the hall. These occupy, in a double row, the spaces that intervene between the windows, while in front of the music gallery, elevated above a bundle of spear handles, waves the Union jack. In the hall are double rows of tables, generally covered, as if all the inhabitants of the pile took here their meals; but the practice of dining together has long since died out. Among the officers it ceased in 1796; among the men some years previously.
Trial of General Whitelocke.—On Thursday, Jan. 30, 1808, this hall was prepared for the trial of this officer. The charges against him were in substance four, viz.:—
1. Having, contrary to the tenor of instructions, in the summons to Buenos Ayres, required that the civil officers and magistrates should be prisoners.
2. Exposing the army, in marching against Buenos Ayres, to a destructive discharge of musketry from the town.
3. Not being present personally on the advance against Buenos Ayres.
4. Surrendering the Fortress of Monte Video without necessity.
The Court, after having proceeded with the trial for several days, allowed the General a week for his defence; and on the 24th of March, the Secretary to H.R.H. the Commander-in-Chief communicated officially to General Whitelocke the sentence of the Court Martial, as approved by his Majesty, as follows:—“That the said Lieutenant-General Whitelocke be cashiered, and declared totally unfit and unworthy to serve his Majesty in any military capacity whatever.”
There have been two or three Courts of Inquiry, &c., convened at subsequent periods, but they created nothing like the interest that was shewn at the time of the above trial.
The remains of the late Duke of Wellington were laid in great state in this hall for several days in September, 1852. Thousands of persons from all parts of the country, as well as many distinguished foreigners, came to witness the splendid but mournful spectacle. Such exhibitions, however, seem rather to belong to past ages than to the present period.
From the Hall to the Chapel the visitor passes across a noble vestibule lighted from above by a cupola, and which, besides serving as a communication to both apartments, constitutes the principal entrance into the Hospital itself. Over the altar is a fresco painting, which represents the Resurrection of our Saviour, sublimely described in the 28th chapter of St. Matthew’s Gospel. It is the production of Sebastian Ricci. The chapel bears the same proportions as the dining hall. It was consecrated by Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, on the 13th of October, 1691. The service of plate, for the use of the altar, was given by King James II.
The first organ was the gift of Major Ingram; but, in 1817, a new one was placed in the original case, built by Gray, at the expense of four hundred guineas. It contained at that time 704 pipes with 12 pedal pipes.
In the chapel are deposited the standards of Tippoo Saib, the whole of the eagles, thirteen in number, that were taken during the war with France, &c. Both the chapel and hall must be visited to be fully appreciated, and this remark equally applies to the different wards, the water-garden, and indeed every part of this noble establishment.
Chelsea Hospital is, of course, designed to furnish an asylum for those members of the regular army alone, whom wounds, sickness, or old age, may have totally disabled. Its inmates are therefore, in some way or other, invalids, that is to say, men affected by some infirmity, which, though not visible to the eye of the common spectator, is by the patient himself abundantly felt. For the reception of those who require admission into it, a spacious Infirmary has been erected, where the aged patients receive the best medical treatment and every requisite comfort.
Amongst the chaplains during this century may be mentioned the Rev. W. Haggitt, M.A., the Rev. Richard Yates, D.D., the Rev. G. R. Gleig, M.A., and the Rev. G. Matthias, M.A., who at the present time holds the appointment.
On the east side of the Hospital, adjoining Queen’s Road East, originally called Jews’ Row, is the cemetery, formerly used for the interment of the officers and pensioners belonging to the establishment. Near the entrance, on the right, is the tomb of Simon Box, the first pensioner there buried in 1692.
There is a very droll epitaph in this burial ground, to the memory of William Hiseland, which states that “when an hundred years old he took unto him a wife.” It appears he had served in the army 80 years. He was born in 1620, and died in 1732, so that at his decease he was 112 years old. A literary gentleman, referring to the above marriage, exclaimed, “Oh, the centenarian wooer and antidiluvian bridegroom—of what chronology was his bride? Let us hope she was as silly at one end of the mortal story, as he was in his second childhood, at the other!”
In this ground was buried General Sir William Fawcett, K.B., Governor of the Hospital, who died in 1804, aged 76. His remains were attended to the grave by the Prince of Wales, the Dukes of York, Clarence, Kent, and Cambridge, and by several noblemen and general officers.
Although Dr. Monsey was not buried here, yet, as he died in the Hospital, we must not omit to notice so remarkable a character. Sir Robert Walpole assiduously cultivated his acquaintance, and the celebrated Earl of Chesterfield acknowledged with gratitude the benefits he had derived from his medical assistance.
The character of Dr. Monsey, in point of natural humour, is thought to have borne a near resemblance to that of Dean Swift. His classical abilities were indeed enviable, and his memory wonderfully retentive; insomuch that he was allowed to be a storehouse of anecdote. The exuberance of his wit, which, like the web of life, was of a mingled yarn, often rendered his conversation exceedingly entertaining, sometimes rather offensive, and at other times pointedly pathetic and instructive. Sir Robert Walpole knew and valued the worth of his “Norfolk Doctor,” as he called him; but though he knew it, he neglected it. The Prime Minister was very fond of billiards, at which his friendvery much excelled him. “How happens it,” said Sir Robert, in a social hour, “that nobody will beat me at billiards, or contradict me, but Dr. Monsey?” “They get places,” said the Doctor, “I get a dinner and praise.”
The following anecdote is very characteristic of the Doctor’s turn of temper, and is said to be well attested. He lived so long in his office as physician to Chelsea Hospital, that, during many changes of Administration, the reversion of his place had been successively promised to several medical friends of the Paymaster-General of the Forces. Looking out of his window one day, and observing a gentleman below, examining the hospital and gardens, who he knew had secured the reversion of his place, the Doctor came down stairs, and going out to him, accosted him thus:—“Well, sir, I see you are examining your house and garden, thatARE TO BE, and I will assure you they are both very pleasant and very convenient. But I must tell you one circumstance—you are the fifth man that has had the reversion of the place, and I have buried them all. And what is more,” continued he, looking very scientifically at him, “there is something in your face that tells me I shall bury you too!” The event justified the prediction, for the gentleman died some years after; and, what is still more extraordinary, at the time of the Doctor’s death there was not a person who seems to have even solicited the promise of a reversion. He died in 1788, aged 94.
On a table monument is an inscription to the memory of John Wilson, Esq., Deputy Treasurer of Chelsea Hospital, and Lieutenant-Colonel of the Royal Volunteers. He died of apoplexy in 1812, aged 56. The monument was erected by the officers of his regiment, as a token of their esteem.
Benjamin Moseley, M.D., thirty years physician to the hospital, was buried here in 1819, aged 73.
General Sir David Dundas, Governor of Chelsea Hospital, was buried here in 1820. His funeral was attended by the Duke of York, accompanied by his Staff.
Burial of a Female Dragoon.—Christiana Davis died at Chelsea in 1739. For several years she served as a dragoon, undiscovered, in the Royal Irish Enniskillen Regiment; but receiving a wound in her body she was then discovered, though her comrades had not the least suspicion of her being a woman.She behaved with great valour afterwards in Flanders, and was very useful in a battle to supply the soldiers with water and other necessaries, even to the mouth of a cannon. She had an allowance of one shilling per day, which she received till her death. She was interred, according to her desire, amongst the old pensioners, and three vollies were fired over her grave.
Hannah Snell was also buried in this ground by her own desire. She enlisted, in 1745, in Guise’s Regiment of Foot, in which she served for some time, but deserted and enlisted in the Marines. She was severely wounded, and, on her recovery, sent to England. Her heroic conduct procured for her an annual pension of £30 for life. She also procured a pension from Chelsea Hospital, and after her discharge continued to wear her uniform. At length this poor creature became insane, and was placed in Bethlehem Hospital, where she died.
Charles Burney, Mus.D., author of the History of Music, &c., was buried here in 1814, aged 88; he was organist at Chelsea Hospital, and father of Madame D’Arblay, the authoress of Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla. She was also for many years the organist.
Many a distinguished officer and old veteran have been interred in this ground. Amongst the pensioners some have lived to a great age. Thomas Asbey, buried in 1737, aged 112.—John Rogers, 1764, aged 103.—Robert Cumming, 1767, aged 116.—Peter Dowling, 1768, aged 102.—Peter Burnet, 1773, aged 107.—Joshua Cueman, 1794, it is stated, aged 123.—Richard Swifield, 1805, aged 105.—Abraham Moss, 1805, aged 106.—John Wolf, 1821, aged 107.—John Salter, 1827, aged 104. I have frequently conversed with the latter centenarian. In his youth he must have been a fine-built man, standing upwards of six feet high. He might often be seen, even within a short time of his death, sweeping away the autumn leaves in the walks of the hospital grounds, as a matter of choice. Such a circumstance suggests many serious reflections, which I leave to the reader to supply. There is also said to be an inmate at the present time, aged 106.
Adjoining the Royal Hospital, on the eastern side, stood the mansion of Richard, Earl of Ranelagh. This nobleman, aboutthe year 1690, obtained from the Crown a large grant of land; he built a house thereon, and made it his principal residence till his death in 1712. In 1730 an Act was passed vesting this estate in trustees, and three years after the house and premises were sold in lots. About this period, Lacy, the patentee of Drury Lane Theatre, projected a plan for establishing a place of public entertainment on a large and splendid scale; and, in pursuance of this scheme, he took a lease of these premises. But it appears he soon gave up the undertaking, as in 1741, when the Rotunda was built, there were two other lessees, one of whom became a bankrupt. The property was then divided into 36 shares of £1000 each, the greater number of which were held by Sir Thomas Robinson, who built for himself a house adjoining to Ranelagh Gardens. Several of his friends took shares in the concern, and it became for a time prosperous.
The Rotunda was opened with a public breakfast, &c., in 1742. It was an imitation of the Pantheon at Rome. The external diameter was 185 ft., the internal 150 ft. The entrances were by four Doric porticos opposite each other, and the first story was rustic; round the whole, on the outside, was an arcade, and over it a gallery, the stairs to which were at the porticos. The interior was fitted up with great taste, and from the ceiling descended 28 chandeliers, in two circles. Music and dancing were the principal attractions. From the branches of the trees that shaded every walk festoons of coloured lamps hung down. Royalty, nobility, and gentry visited it.
On the 4th of January, 1804, a brilliant scene was displayed at Ranelagh, on the presentation of Colours to the Chelsea Royal Volunteers. About noon the trumpet announced the arrival of the Courtly party in three of his Majesty’s carriages, followed by others belonging to different noblemen. The company having alighted, Lady Harrington was conducted to her box by the Vice-Chamberlain. The Countess being seated two pairs of Colours were introduced, and placed on each side of the royal box. The King’s Colours of each regiment consisted of a plain Union standard, but the regimental one, which was designed and executed by the Queen and Princesses, was a superb piece of needlework, the ground being a rich purple silk, having in the centre his Majesty’s arms, embroidered and surrounded with sprigs of variegated tints and figures. At the lower corners were the letters “C. R.,” and under thearmorial bearings the words, “Queen’s Royal Volunteers.”[199]After prayers and a suitable discourse, Lady Harrington thus addressed the officers:—
“Gentlemen,—Her Majesty having been graciously pleased to confer upon me the honour of presenting to you these Colours, I am anxious to express how highly I am flattered by this distinguished mark of the Queen’s favour. At a time of all others the most awful, when our country is threatened with the unprovoked attack of a most implacable enemy, and when you have evinced your readiness to stand forward in the defence of everything that is most dear to us all, what can be more gratifying to you than being so particularly distinguished by her Majesty, and receiving your Colours from her? Animated as your hearts must be in gratitude to the Queen, in addition to every other noble sentiment that has guided you, from the moment of the first offer of your services, it would not only be superfluous, but presumptuous in me, to add anything more upon the occasion than the expression of every fervent wish for your success in the event of the enemy carrying his threats into execution; confident that no power, however strenuously exerted, will ever wrest these Colours from you while there is yet left a man in your corps to defend them.”
“Gentlemen,—Her Majesty having been graciously pleased to confer upon me the honour of presenting to you these Colours, I am anxious to express how highly I am flattered by this distinguished mark of the Queen’s favour. At a time of all others the most awful, when our country is threatened with the unprovoked attack of a most implacable enemy, and when you have evinced your readiness to stand forward in the defence of everything that is most dear to us all, what can be more gratifying to you than being so particularly distinguished by her Majesty, and receiving your Colours from her? Animated as your hearts must be in gratitude to the Queen, in addition to every other noble sentiment that has guided you, from the moment of the first offer of your services, it would not only be superfluous, but presumptuous in me, to add anything more upon the occasion than the expression of every fervent wish for your success in the event of the enemy carrying his threats into execution; confident that no power, however strenuously exerted, will ever wrest these Colours from you while there is yet left a man in your corps to defend them.”
To this speech a suitable answer was made by Lord Hobart, who expressed, in behalf of the corps, the most patriotic and grateful sentiments.
Subsequent Directors turned Ranelagh into mere Assembly and Concert Rooms, and the gardens for a display of fire-works. It soon ceased to be an attractive promenade, and the brilliant display of beauty it had made for years was seen no more.
In 1805 an order was made for taking down Ranelagh House, which had been the residence of Sir Thomas Robinson, and the Rotunda. The furniture was sold by auction, and the entire buildings. General Wilford became the purchaser of a portion of the land, on which he erected a large house, and resided in it for many years. The ruins of some of the original buildings belonging to Ranelagh Gardens remained for a considerable time afterwards. In the front of General Wilford’s house, on the north, some excellent cricket matches were played, for Chelsea then abounded with first-rate cricketers.
At length the Crown purchased General Wilford’s house and the land adjoining it, whereon the Rotunda formerly stood, for the use of Chelsea Hospital, and when Lord John Russell (now Earl Russell) became Paymaster-General, he caused the Ranelagh field, which was near the river, to be laid out into portions or lots, for the old men to occupy, each as his private garden. The remaining portion of the land of Ranelagh, on the east, has since been added to the Hospital Gardens, and presents one of the most picturesque specimens of gardening in the vicinity of London. To these gardens the public have free access. Along the side of them there is an excellent road leading to the Suspension Bridge, and on the opposite side a splendid range of Barracks erected within the last few years.
Chelsea was famous for its buns from the commencement of the last century. Swift, who lodged in Church Lane (street), and used to walk to and from town, “two good miles, and just 5748 steps,” writes to Stella, in 1712, “Pray, are not they fine buns sold here in our town? * * * Was it not r-r-r-r-r-r rare Chelsea buns? I bought one in my walk.” This old bunhouse was a rather long building of one storey, with a colonnade in front, projecting over the pavement, the dwelling-house attached to it standing in the rear, with a large and well-kept garden behind it. It was situated in what was called Grosvenor Row, known as such at the time the bunhouse was pulled down, the site of which is a little eastward beyond the boundary line of this parish, and not far distant from Chelsea Hospital. George II. and Queen Caroline, and the princesses, bought buns here; as did George III. and Queen Charlotte, who presented to the proprietor a silver half gallon mug, and five guineas in it. Here, on Good Friday morning, £250 has been taken for buns; and so lately as 1839 no less than 240,000 buns were sold here on Good Friday. This may appear to many an incredulous number; but few persons at the present time can form an adequate idea of the immense demand for them.
The Rev. J. B. Owen, of St. Jude’s, Chelsea, in one of his admirable lectures, delivered in 1860, humourously observed, “There is no poetry more delicate, nor was street music morepopular, than the old bellman’s cry—‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’ Picture the enthusiasm of a local rhymer thus immortalising the article:—
O flour of the ovens! a zephyr in paste!Fragrant as honey, and sweeter in taste!Hail to the bellman, who sings as he runs,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’As flaky and white as if baked by the light,As the flesh of an infant, soft, doughy, and slight;The public devour thee like Goths and Huns,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’Prelates, and princes, and lieges, and kings,Hail for the bellman, who tinkles and sings,Bouche of the highest and lowliest ones,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’Like the home of your birth, or the scent of a flower,Or the blush of the morning on field or bower,There’s a charm in the sound which nobody shuns,Of ‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’
O flour of the ovens! a zephyr in paste!Fragrant as honey, and sweeter in taste!Hail to the bellman, who sings as he runs,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’
As flaky and white as if baked by the light,As the flesh of an infant, soft, doughy, and slight;The public devour thee like Goths and Huns,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’
Prelates, and princes, and lieges, and kings,Hail for the bellman, who tinkles and sings,Bouche of the highest and lowliest ones,‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’
Like the home of your birth, or the scent of a flower,Or the blush of the morning on field or bower,There’s a charm in the sound which nobody shuns,Of ‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’
This bunhouse had become so famous, not only throughout London, but for several miles round it, that not to visit Chelsea on Good Friday, and purchase some of the “rare buns,” was considered as unaccountable amongst a certain class—such as the servants of the nobility and gentry, shopmen, mechanics, and apprentices—as it would have been for them to acknowledge that they had never heard of Greenwich Fair. But this part of Chelsea, and the adjoining “Five Fields,” now Eaton and Belgrave Squares, actually did represent a minor Greenwich Fair. From my own personal observation I should say, provided the weather was favourable, there were generally on Good Fridays nearly 200,000 persons collected in the immediate neighbourhood. It was a fair to all intents and purposes. In the “Five Fields” there were drinking booths, swings, gingerbread stalls, nine-pins being played, gaming, and all the other vicious “entertainments” which annually disgraced the metropolis in former times. Such was the pressure of the immense crowd at the bunhouse, from about three o’clock in the morning till five in the afternoon, that the only mode of supplying the demand for buns was by obtaining them through apertures in the shutters. The bunhouse, however, was very respectably conducted, and such scenes as I have described were only to bewitnessed on the day previously named—a day set apart to commemorate the most momentous event, as regards its consequences, in the history of the world.
There were many things very attractive at the original bunhouse. In it was a collection of pictures, models, grotesque, figures, and modern antiques. In a conspicuous position were two leaden figures of grenadiers of 1745; a plaster figure of William, Duke of Cumberland; a painting of the King and Queen seated; a model of the bunhouse, and of the exploits of a bottle conjurer. This celebrated building was pulled down some years since, and with it the olden charm fled.
Having thus arrived at the eastern boundary of the parish, I trace my steps through Queen’s Road East, formerly called Jews’ Row. Many years ago this road, for scenes of depravity, was as bad as any part of the East end of London; but it happily was confined to this limited locality, and arose from the circumstance that the Out-Pensioners from nearly all parts of the country had to come to Chelsea Hospital to receive their pensions, and disabled soldiers to pass the Board, &c., previously to being discharged from the army. The Government at length wisely altered the arrangement for paying the Out-Pensioners, and they now receive their pensions in districts nearer to where they dwell, which prevents their being put to the expense of coming to London, being robbed by “sharpers,” or beset by prostitution. Jews’ Row, and its former scenes, comparatively speaking, have passed away, and what remains of vice and crime, in some of the crammed courts leading from it to Turks’ Row, is gradually disappearing, through the exertions of the Rev. J. B. Owen, M.A., of St. Jude’s Church, the District Visitors, and other agencies. These courts will probably be cleared away before many years have elapsed, and Queen’s Road East will then become one of the leading and most attractive thoroughfares in the parish of Chelsea.
One very great improvement took place some few years since. The Burial Ground was enclosed by a high dismal-looking old wall, which was pulled down, and a new one built, not more than three feet high, on which a neat iron-railing is placed, thus removing much vice and preventing many robberies, and rendering the road perfectly safe.
In the year 1793 a horrible murder was committed in a house fronting the North Court of the Royal Hospital. The victims were Mr. Silva and Mary Williams, his servant. It appears to have been perpetrated in the morning, between half-past eight and twelve o’clock.
George Saunders, at the inquest, stated that when the alarm was given he entered the house, and, on lifting up the servant, Mary Williams, there were signs of life, but she expired in two or three minutes. Mr. Silva was alive, but speechless, and died shortly afterwards. He found in a closet in the kitchen two iron chests, unlocked, and empty. In the front room, one pair of stairs, a bureau open, with the drawers out, and the papers in confusion, and on the floor a quantity of bedding, folded up.
Mr. North, surgeon, gave a fearful account of the wounds received, and the jury, after a lengthened investigation, found a verdict of wilful murder by persons unknown.
A nephew of Mr. Silva was taken up on suspicion, and examined at Bow Street. He shewed, by respectable evidence, that he was at home when the murder was committed, and was discharged. This person, however, afterwards committed suicide, and he was buried in the highway at Chelsea, leaving great doubts of his innocency of the crime.
On the site of the Royal Military Asylum stood a capital mansion, the residence for many years of the Cadogan family, and afterwards the property of Sir Walter Farquhar, Bart., of whom it was purchased for the purpose of erecting the present Institution.
The Royal Military Asylum for the children of soldiers of the regular army is situated near the Royal Hospital, on the north east. It was built by Mr. Copland, from the designs of Mr. Sanders. On the 19th of June, 1801, the first stone of this structure was laid by the Duke of York, accompanied by many general officers, and a considerable number of the nobility. The motives which gave rise to the establishment, and the principlesupon which it is founded, are alike honourable to the present enlightened age, and congenial with the soundest maxims of policy, humanity, and benevolence. “The necessity of such an Institution will appear obvious,” says Mr. Faulkner, “when we consider the helpless and forlorn condition of many among these orphan objects of commiseration, who in this comfortable asylum are clothed, have good wholesome food, acquire a decent education, are taught the principles of Christianity, and, finally, are made useful in whatever course of life they may be enabled to adopt.”
The ground in front of this spacious building is laid out in grass plots and gravel walks, and planted with trees. The edifice forms three sides of a quadrangle; it is built of brick, with an elegant stone balustrade in the centre of the western front, which is ornamented with a noble portico of the Doric order, consisting of four columns, which support a large and well-proportioned pediment. On the frieze is the following inscription:—“The Royal Military Asylum for the Children of Soldiers of the Regular Army.” Over it are the Imperial arms. The north and south wings are joined to the principal front by a colonade, which forms a good shelter for the boys in wet weather.