On the same side as Lambeth, nearer Westminster Bridge, are the curious detached buildings of St. Thomas's Hospital, looking like nothing in the world less than a hospital.
Where Lambeth Bridge is now, was once the ferry by which King James II. passed when he made a hurried exit from the kingdom that repudiated him. It was a bitter night, and, attended by only one gentleman, the king slipped secretly out of his palace at Whitehall, and crossing the Privy Gardens, made his way to the ferry, where he entered a small boat with a single pair of oars. In mid-stream he threw the Great Seal into the water. A curious and dramatic incident this, that might well be made the subject of a picture by some historical painter. The Great Seal was afterwards accidentally drawn up in the net of some fisherman. But there is another memory further back still, which gives to this strip of river an importance which no other part can boast. Here lay the first ford, to which all the traffic of the north, on its way to the south coast, had to come. In the ages before even the oldest London Bridge was built, a string of pack horses, of weary men and of travellers, continually wandered down through the marshes lying around Thorney Island, on which stands the present Abbey, and, guided by stakes placed for the purpose, arrived at the river's bank, there to await low tide, when they could cross over to the further shore. Through the ages we see them continuing, and when England was Christianised, to the procession were added monks and pilgrims bent on holy missions. When London Bridge was built, a great majority of the age-long procession was diverted that way, but many still continued to prefer the ancient ford at Westminster. Of course, since the Embankment was made, and the river no longer wanders uncurbed over the lowlands and meadows of Westminster, the current runs deep and strong and no fording is possible.
HAY BARGES NEAR WESTMINSTER BRIDGE
Above Lambeth we pass the Tate Gallery and the new bridge at Vauxhall, and then traverse a dreary strip of river, dreary on both sides, until we come near to Chelsea Bridge. This is a high-swinging and imposing bridge of the same type as the Albert Bridge further up. How different the Chelsea we see now from the ancient Chelsea. Ours is a Chelsea mainly of red brick, with many tall flats and many beautifully designed houses in pseudo-ancient style. A long line of planes runs along the embankment, which is one of the prettiest embankments on the river. The gardens and green lawns of the Royal Hospital reach to the roadway, and away behind them at some distance can be seen the comparatively low and long range of buildings dating from the time of the Stuarts, and forming an asylum for old soldiers. On the strip of ground to the east of them once stood Ranelagh, the gay rotunda which played such a part in all London flirtations; where misses met their beaux and walked round in stately steps to the sound of music. The breakfasts at Ranelagh were at one time almost as popular as the evening entertainments:
A thousand feet rustled on mats,
A carpet that had once been green;
Men bowed with their outlandish hats,
With corners so fearfully keen;