Transcribed from the 1844 edition , email. Many thanks to the Royal Borough ofKensington and Chelsea Libraries, Local Studies, for allowingtheir copy to be used for this transcription.
THE
FORLORN HOPE:
A
STORY
OF
OLD CHELSEA.
BY
Mrs. S. C. HALL.
p. 1Chelsea Hospital, or, as the old soldiersprefer to call it, “Chelsea College,” appears muchthe same at all seasons of the year; its simple, dignified, and,if the phrase may be permitted, healthful and useful, style ofarchitecture, suggests the same ideas, under the hot sun of Juneand amid the snows of bleak December; bringing conviction thatthe venerable structure is a safe, suitable, comfortable, andhappy, as well as honourable, retreat for the brave men who haveso effectually “kept the foreigner from foolingus.” The simple story I have to tell, commences witha morning in April, 1838. It was a warm, soft morning, ofthe first spring month; the sun shone along the colonnade of“the Royal College.” Some of theveterans—who, fearing rheumatism more than they ever fearedcold steel or leaden bullet, had kept close quarters p. 2all the winter,in their comfortable nooks up stairs—were now slowly pacingbeside the stately pillars of their own palace, inhaling therefreshing breeze that crossed the water-garden from the Thames,and talking cheerfully of the coming summer. Truly the“pensioners” seem, to the full, aware of theirprivileges, and of their claims—far less upon oursympathies than upon our gratitude and respect. The collegeis THEIRS; they look, walk, andtalk, in perfect and indisputable consciousness that it is theirhouse, and that those who cross its courts, loiter in itsgardens, or view its halls, chapel, and dormitories, are butvisitors—graciously admitted, and generously instructed bythem. And who will dare to question their right?
The veterans are, as they may well be, proud of their countryand their hospital; they are too natural to disguise the feelingthat they love a good listener; to such they will tell how MadamGwyn asked the king—the second Charles—to endow alast earthly home for his brave soldiers; and how rejoiced shewas to have it built at Chelsea, because she was born there, forthat all human souls love the places where they were born! They point to the tattered flags in the noble hall and sacredchapel, as if the trophies were actually won by their own hands;they will digress from them to Sir Christopher Wren, not seemingto know very clearly whether the great architect or Charles theSecond planned the structure—they are apt to confound Henrythe Eighth with the second