GHOSTS OF CHELSEA.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20317, 27 January 1928, Page 3

GHOSTS OF CHELSEA.

PEPYS AND DR JOHNSON. HOSPITAL AND CHAPEL. Catharine Parr, writing to her Lord High Admiral Seymour, said: “I know not how it be, but weeks in Chelsea seem shorter than anywhere elsw.” It was little wonder if her weeks in Chelsea seemed short to those that had gone before, when Henry VIII was still alive, and she was wondering whether she would share the fate of her predecessors. It was at the Manor House in Chelsea she lived during her short widowhood, and to her postern gate came her suitor, Sir Thomas Seymour, to make love to her, romantically, by night. Here the _ young Princess Elizabeth came to utay in her stepmother’s charge, and slipped in at the side door of Old Church, so that she might attend services without mixing with the common people. And a little later came the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, to study her “ bokes ” and walk beneath the trees in the great garden. The Manor House ha s lon s since disappeared, though the aptly-named Queen’s House stands on its site, and there are Chelsea residents who declare the ghosts of those queenly ladic s may still be mot responsive souls of to-day, writes Mary Welsh in the Sydney Morning Herald Chelsea may be only a shadow of her former self, but weeks hero are still shorter than anywhere else, because of the history that clings to the place. One cannot live hero without feeling surrounded by the famous men and women who loved Chelsea in the storied past, nor walk by Chelsea Peach at night without responding to the glamour of her memories. There’s magic in the very name (the old Saxon word, Cealchych, actually meant haven) and still the artists and the writers come here to live. Not the least attractively worded tablet in Chelsea Old Church is to the memory of Henry James, who lived and died hero during the war, while another tablet let in Tite street marks the house where John Sargent died more recently. AN ANCHORAGE. To us, who came across all those miles of sea from Australia to find ourselves, after some troublesome experiences in London flats, living behind a green door in Chelsea (the green is very important because it looks artistic), Cnelsea seems no longer a magnet, but a happy anchorage. It is said that our particular street is modern, its only claim to fame being that Dr Phene, an eccentric savant, who built an extraordinarily ornate house in Oakley street, and then forgot to live in it, was also the first man to plant plane trees in a London street, and so inaugurated one of London’s happiest customs. But if we are modem there is compensation in the Embankment that crosses the street a few doors away, for Cheyne Walk has more treasured associations than most roads in .Chelsea. At the far end there is the queer little house where J. Turner came to escape the too flattering crowd, and paint his wonderful sunsets from its flat roof. At No. 93, Mrs Gaskell was born, and two doors awav is the house where Whistler died, facing the Battersea Bridge he made memorable before it gave way to the modern structure of to-day. And two doors away on the other side of 93, at the corner of Beaufort street, is a lovable old bouse with a biff bay window, where “ Michael Fairless” lay in her pain, and wrote of the mysterious barges that passed up the Thames at night, and came back at dawn. At the other end of Cheyne Walk Dante Gabriel Rossetti, hi 8 brother William, and Swinburne formed an inflammable trio in a big house near the spot where once Don Saltero kept his famous tavern, and exhibited the oddest collection of faked curios ever known to man. In Cheyne Gardens # the statue of Thomas Carlyle sits in his familia-r dressing-gown, a pile of books at his feet, gazing benignly over his folded hands at the traffic of the river. Ihe quiet little street at his back is Cheyne row, and at No. 24 the traditions of the house are kept alive by two women, who read out the letters and discuss the personal belongings with such familiar grace that one comes to believe Carlyle will be found writing in his sound-proof room, and dear, brilliant, delicate Jane Welsh will surely be met with at a turn of the carved stairway. We went there one dav, and were given a warm welcome, and to our great embarrassment were then exhibited along with the house to parties of American tourists as “ cousins of the late Mrs Carlyle.” When one earnest student thanked us for allowing outselves to be met, we felt that honour could go no further! These dear ghosts of Chelsea! Ive read so much of them that the dates are growing mixed, but does it matter after all if the oldest ghosts come walking with the newest ones? No doubt Pepys, coming back to find if the Swan Tavern still stands, will have the disappointment assuaged by meeting Dr Johnson with his basket of spoiled china, wondering why he cannot make Chelsea ware when other men can; William tie Morgan, who turned to literature only when his beautiful Chelsea pottery failed to earn him a living; Leigh Hunt, who never let poverty and ill-health damp his cheerful hospitality. Addison, Gay, and Smollett will all have something in common to discuss, Worthy old Sir Hans Sloane may step down from his pedestal in the_ Physic Garden, to marvel that the British Museum has grown out of his recollection, and to feel gratified that prosperous Sloane street and Sloane square still bear his name. The Apothecaries’ Garden has had such an interesting history since its founding in 1673, and its salvation some 50 years later by Sir Hans, that it has a whole book to itself. One of many famous names connected with .it is that of Sir Joseph Banks, who studied botany here before he sailed with Captain Cook. Dean Swift, who took lodgings in Danvers street, and walked to and from London for the sake of his health, may join the conclave, though I do not think he will bathe in the Thames to-night, with his landlady’s napkin on his head, in case he loses it again and has to pay for it. On one of his walks he bought and wrote disparagingly of a rare Chelsea bun, but others aid not share his opinion, for on Good Fridays the famous bun house sold tens of thousands of “ smoking hot, piping hot ” Chelsea buns.

The somewhat dubious glories of _Ranelagh and Cremorne Gardens have vanished; fashionable flats now stand on the site of thg greatest house in Chelsea, where lived Sir Thomas More and many well-known men after him; and the fine road Charles II built as a King’s road, between Whitehall and Hampton Court, is now an unlovely street of bustling, modern commerce. But let us be thankful “ Nelly’s Pleasure House ” still stands, the Royal Hospital built by Wren to Charles IPs command, when Nell Gywnne asked for a home for his old soldiers. The red coats of the veterans made gay splashes of colour by Chelsea Reach from May til! October, and on Sundays the public is admitted to the chapel, and may see the old men march into service, as proudly erect as their ago and infirmities permit. One comes across them in unexpected corners of the wonderful village, always alone, and marching along with their sticks with such a purposeful air that one feels they are preparing themselves to join in the great army of Chelsea ghosts.