The Thames Part 1

The Thames.

by G. E. Mitton.

THE THAMES

When the American wondered what all the fuss was about, and "guessed" that any one of his home rivers could swallow the Thames and never know it, the Englishman replied, he "guessed" it depended at which end the process began; if at the mouth, the American river would probably get no farther than the "greatest city the world has ever known" before succ.u.mbing to indigestion!

With rivers as with men, size is not an element in greatness, and for no other reason than that it carries London on its banks the Thames would be the most famous river in the world. It has other claims too, claims which are here set forth with pen and pencil; for at present we are not dealing with London at all, but with that river of pleasure of which Spenser wrote:--

Along the sh.o.r.es of silver-streaming Themmes; Whose rutty bank, the which his river hemmes, Was paynted all with variable flowers, And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes, Fit to deck mayden bowres and crowne their paramoures, Against the brydale day which is not long, Sweet Thames! runne softly till I end my song.

Oddly enough, this is one of the comparatively few allusions to the Thames in literature, and there is no single striking ode in its honour. It is perhaps too much to expect the present Poet Laureate to fill the gap, but certainly the poet of the Thames has yet to arise.

Besides Spenser, Drayton makes allusion to the Thames in his _Polyolbion_, using as an allegory the wedding of Thame and Isis, from which union is born the Thames; and in this he is correct, for where Thame and Isis unite at Dorchester there begins the Thames, and all that is usually counted Thames, up to Oxford and beyond, is, as Oxford men correctly say, the Isis. Yet by custom now the river which flows past Oxford is treated as the Thames, and when we speak of our national river we count its source as being in the Cotswold Hills.

Other poets who refer to the Thames are Denham, Cowley, Milton, and Pope.

In modern times Matthew Arnold's tender descriptions of the river about and below Oxford have been many times quoted. Gray wrote an _Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_, in which he refers to the "h.o.a.ry Thames", but the lines apostrophizing the "little victims" at play are more often quoted than those regarding the river.

The influence of the Thames on the countless sons of England who have pa.s.sed through Eton and Oxford must be incalculable. It is impossible to mention Eton without thinking of Windsor, the one royal castle which really impresses foreigners in England. Buckingham Palace is a palace in name only, its ugly, stiff, stuccoed walls might belong to a gigantic box, but Windsor, with its ma.s.sive towers and its splendid situation, is castle and palace both. Well may the German Emperor envy it! It carries in it something of the character of that other William, the first of the Norman Kings of England, who saw the possibilities of the situation, though little of the castle as we see it is due to him. The ma.s.s of it is of the time of Edward III, and much of it was altered in that worst era of taste, the reign of George IV. Windsor has come scatheless out of the ordeal; the fine ma.s.ses of masonry already existing have carried off the alterations in their own grandeur, and the result is harmonious.

Many and many a tale might be quoted of Windsor, but these are amply told in _Windsor Castle_ by Edward Thomas, the volume which follows this in the same series. Here we must be content with quoting only four lines from _The Kingis Quhair_, the great poem of King James I of Scotland, who spent part of his long captivity at Windsor. By reason of this poem James I ranks as high among poets as among kings; in it he speaks of the Thames as--

A river pleasant to behold, Embroidered all with fresh flowers gay, Where, through the gravel, bright as any gold, The crystal water ran so clear and cold.

Windsor is the only royal palace, still used as such, which remains out of the seven once standing on the banks of the Thames. Few people indeed would be able to recite offhand the names of the others. They are all below Windsor. The nearest to it is Hampton Court, chiefly a.s.sociated with William III, though it was originally founded by the tactless Wolsey, who dared so to adorn it that it attracted the unenviable notice of Henry VIII. Little was it to be wondered at, since the Court was described by Skelton as--

With turrettes and with toures, With halls and with boures, Stretching to the starres, With gla.s.s windows and barres; Hanginge about their walles, Clothes of gold and palles Fresh as floures in May.

Skelton also wrote a satire beginning:--

Why come ye not to court?

To whyche court?

To the Kynge's Court Or Hampton Court?

The Kynge's Court Should have the excellence, But Hampton Court Hath the pre-eminence And Yorkes Place,

which was like pouring vitriol into the mind of such a man as Henry. When Wolsey entertained the French amba.s.sadors at Hampton, "every chamber had a bason and a ewer of silver, some gilt and some parcel gilt, and some two great pots of silver, in like manner, and one pot at the least with wine or beer, a bowl or goblet, and a silver pot to drink beer in; a silver candlestick or two, with both white lights and yellow lights of three sizes of wax; and a staff torch; a fine manchet, and a cheat loaf of bread". No wonder the King's cupidity was aroused. It was not long before the great Cardinal was forced to make a "voluntary" gift of his beloved toy, as he had also to do with another n.o.ble mansion which he "made" by Thames side--Whitehall, formerly known as York Place, because held by the Archbishops of York. When Wolsey was told the King required this, he said with truth: "I know that the King of his own nature is of a royal stomach!"

On leaving Hampton the great prelate was allowed to go to the palace at Richmond. One wonders if he rode from Hampton to Richmond, only a mile or two by the river bank, on that "mule trapped altogether in crimson velvet and gilt stirrups". Of the thousands who use that popular towpath does one ever give a thought to the Cardinal thus setting his first step on his tremendous downward descent?

It was while he was at Hampton that the news was brought to Henry of the death of his old favourite at Leicester Abbey. Henry, standing in a "nightgown of russet velvet furred with sables", heard the news callously, and only demanded an account of some money paid to the cardinal before his death; not a qualm disturbed his self-satisfaction. Such is the most picturesque reminiscence of Hampton, and others must stand aside with a mere reference; such events as the birth of Edward VI, which occurred here; the "honeymoon" of bitter, loveless Mary and her Spanish husband; the imprisonment of Charles I for three months. Melancholy ghosts these; but they do not haunt the main part of the palace, for that was built later by Wren, acting under orders from William III, to imitate Versailles. This incongruity of style must have sorely puzzled the much-tried architect, who has, however, succeeded admirably in his bizarre task.

But of all the picturesque and romantic a.s.sociations with palaces, those connected with Richmond are the most interesting. Only a fragment of the building now remains. After many vicissitudes, including destruction by fire at the hands of Richard II--who, like a child rending a toy which has hurt him, had it destroyed because the death of his wife occurred here--it was rebuilt by Henry VII, the first to call it Richmond, whereas before it had been Sheen. It is much a.s.sociated with the eccentric and forceful Tudors, who, whatever their faults, had plenty of ability, and of that most valuable of all nature's gifts, originality. It is said that in a room over the gateway took place the death of the miserable Countess of Nottingham, who confessed at last that she had failed to give to Elizabeth the ring which the Earl of Ess.e.x had sent to her in his extremity; whereupon the miserable queen exclaimed: "May G.o.d forgive you, for I never can". The unhappy Katherine of Aragon, and still more unhappy Queen Mary, spent bitter days at Richmond.

How different is Kew, a palace in name only, a snug red-brick villa in appearance, where the most homely of the Hanoverian kings played at being a private gentleman! The other royal palaces--Westminster, Whitehall and the Tower--belong to the London zone, a thing apart, just as London is now itself a county, an ent.i.ty, and not merely a city overflowing into neighbouring counties.

Not only for its palaces is the Thames famous, the monks made excuse that Friday's fish necessitated the vicinity of a river, but in reality they knew better than their neighbours how to choose the most desirable localities. Note any exceptionally beautiful situation, any celebrated house, and ten times to one you will find its origin in a monastery. The monasteries which dotted the sh.o.r.es of Thames were frequent and lordly. To mention a few of the most important, we have Reading, Dorchester, Chertsey, Abingdon, and an incomparable relic remaining in the magnificent abbey church at Dorchester, with its "Jesse" window, which draws strangers from all parts to see the tree of David arising from Jesse and culminating in the Christ.

[Ill.u.s.tration: RICHMOND]

Nowadays many besides monks have discovered the desirability of a river residence; too many, in fact, for a house with the lawn of that unrivalled turf, smooth as velvet, bright as emerald, which grows only by Thames side, commands a rent out of reach of all but the well-to-do. How beautiful such river lawns may be can be judged only at the time when the crimson rambler is in its glory, flinging its rose-red ma.s.ses over rustic supports, and finding an extraordinary counterblast of colour in the striking vermilion of the geraniums which line the roofs of the prettily painted houseboats anch.o.r.ed near. A houseboat is not exactly a marvel either of comfort or cheapness, but as a joyous experience it is worth the money. You see them lying up in lines by Molesey and Richmond out of the season, dead lifeless things, with weather-stained paint and tightly shut cas.e.m.e.nts. How different are they in the summer, resplendent in blue and white, lined by flowers and vivified by men in flannels and girls in muslin frocks, with parasols like flowers themselves; then the very houseboat seems alive.

Of all the notable houses which are pa.s.sed in following "the silver-winding" way of the Thames two cannot be overlooked, because, being perched in lordly situations, they command great vistas of the river. The first is Cliveden, standing high above the woods and facing down the river to Maidenhead. The present house dates only from the middle of the nineteenth century. It has had two predecessors, both destroyed by fire.

The first one was built by "Steenie", first Duke of Buckingham, Charles I's favourite. His gay, arrogant life, which came to a fitting end by the a.s.sa.s.sin's knife, was carried on at Cliveden with unbridled licence and extravagance. His wardrobe for the journey to Spain with Charles, when Prince of Wales, consisted of "twenty-seven rich suits, embroidered and laced with silk and silver plushes, besides one rich satten incut velvet suit, set all over, both suit and cloak, of diamonds, the value whereof is thought to be about one thousand pounds". It was to Cliveden the duke brought the Countess of Shrewsbury after he had killed her husband by mortally wounding him in a duel, while she stood by disguised as a page and held his horse.

There is nothing more curious than to discover how young were the princ.i.p.al actors in the dramas of history. After a life full of action, of intrigue, of excitement, the first Duke of Buckingham's career was ended at the early age of thirty-six. He left a son and daughter, and another son, Francis, was born shortly after. This boy is described as having been singularly lovable and handsome. He fought gallantly for his King in the civil wars, and was killed when only nineteen at Kingston-on-Thames, thereby, giving us another riverside a.s.sociation. He stood with his back against an oak tree, scorning to ask quarter from his enemies, and fell covered with wounds.

It was an age of masques and dramas, and Buckingham was the patron of many a poet. Ben Jonson's masques, performed in costumes designed by Inigo Jones, were popular both with him and the King. In later days Cliveden was the scene of another masque, _Alfred_, written by James Thomson, who was staying in the house as a guest of Frederick, Prince of Wales, then the lessee. This masque itself is long forgotten, but it contained "Rule, Britannia!" the national song which thus first made the walls of Cliveden echo, before it echoed round the Empire. The masque was performed at a fete given in the garden, Aug. 1 and 2, 1740. Thomson's connection with the Thames does not end here. It was at the Mall, Hammersmith, that he had previously written _The Seasons_.

Enough has been said of Cliveden to show that not only in situation but in interesting a.s.sociation it takes high rank among river mansions. The other p.r.o.nouncedly notable high-standing river mansion is Danesfield, above Hurley, built of chalk, and reared upon the great chalk cliffs that here line the river's flood. On the slopes near, in crocus time, the hills shine purple and gold with blossom, resembling a royal carpet spread by someone's lavish hand. The place derives its name from having been the site of a Danish encampment.

But Cliveden and Danesfield do not exhaust the list of fine riverside mansions, though, as they stand so high, they are more conspicuous than most. One of the most delightful and desirable of all the old houses is Bisham Abbey, not far from Marlow, picturesque in itself and redolent of old a.s.sociations. There is the Bisham ghost, which spreads itself across the river in a thin, white mist which means death to those who try to penetrate it. But the most touching and pitiful tale is of a certain Lady Hoby, one of the family who held the mansion from the time of Edward VI to 1780. She is represented as wandering about in a never-ending purgatory, wringing her hands and trying to cleanse them from indelible inkstains.

The story goes that she was condemned thus for her cruelty to her little son, whom, perhaps in mistaken severity, she beat so much for failure to write in his copybooks without blots that the poor child died. It was an age of sternness toward children. We know how Lady Jane Grey suffered, and thought herself "in h.e.l.l" while with her parents. There were no Froebel schools or Kindergartens then; and it may be the wretched mother was trying to do her duty as she knew it. A curious confirmation of the story was found in the discovery of a number of copybooks behind a shutter during some repairs. The books were of the Tudor period and were deluged in every line with blots!

[Ill.u.s.tration: MARLOW LOCK]

Several of the Hobys are buried in the pretty little church, near to which the river laps the very edge of the churchyard. One monument is to two brothers, Sir Philip and Sir Thomas Hoby, and the epitaph on the latter, put up by his sorrowing widow, concludes with the lines:--

Give me, oh G.o.d, a husband like unto Thomas, Or else restore me to my husband Thomas.

Like many another disconsolate widow she married again in a few years, so she had presumably found someone who could rank with Thomas! Leland in his _Itinerary_ mentions the Abbey as "a very pleasant delightsome place as most in England", and, indeed, so it is, with its grey stone walls, mullioned windows, and high tower rising amid the trees.

Bisham at one time belonged to the Knights Templars, and in 1388 the Earl of Salisbury established here a monastery for Augustinian monks. It was twice surrendered at the dissolution, and the prior, William Barlow, had five daughters, who all married bishops! It seems that the worthy cleric had readily taken advantage of the change which abolished celibacy for the clergy!

Poor Anne of Cleves lived here in retirement, whilst her stepson was on the throne, but she perhaps found the place too quiet after the fierce excitement of being wife to such a monarch as Henry, because it was she who exchanged it with the Hoby family, and went elsewhere. Edward VI seems to have had a liking for sending his relatives here, for he next committed his sister Elizabeth to the care of Sir Thomas, who seems to have treated her well, though she was in fact a prisoner. That she appreciated the beauty of the river scenery is shown by her revisiting the place when she was queen. The great square hall is said with much probability to have been the abbey church, and if so three Earls of Salisbury, the "King-maker" Warwick, and the unhappy Edward Plantagenet, son of the Duke of Clarence, lie beneath the stones. We have lingered a little about Bisham, but few places are so well worth it.

Temple Lock, near by, recalls the Templars, and just above it is another grand old house, Lady Place, also on the site of an abbey. Sir Richard Lovelace, created Baron by Charles I, built here a magnificent mansion, described by Macaulay in his usual rolling style, in his _History of England_. The house, therefore, is younger than Bisham, but the abbey was older, having been founded as far back as 1086. A part of the crypt remains. Here in the dim depths was signed that doc.u.ment which changed the whole course of English history, the invitation to William of Orange to come over and take the throne. The chief conspirator was the second Baron Lovelace, who thus repaid the Stuarts who had enn.o.bled his father!

At Greenlands also, about three miles above Lady Place and Hurley as the crow flies, but more by the winding river, we get another echo of the Civil Wars. We are told that "for a little fort it was made very strong for the King". It belonged at that time to Sir Cope D'Oyley, a stanch Royalist, and when he died his eldest son followed in his steps, and held out even when the Parliamentarians planted their cannon in the meadows opposite and fired across the river. The marks of their b.a.l.l.s are said to be still visible on the old walls. Greenlands now belongs to the Hon. W.

F. D. Smith, heir to his mother, Viscountess Hambleden. An altogether peculiar case in the peerage this! When the Right Hon. W. H. Smith, First Lord of the Treasury, died, in October, 1891, he just missed the peerage destined for him. A month later it was conferred upon his widow with remainder to her son.

So much for a few of the interesting and romantic a.s.sociations of the river. But it is not thus the holiday crowds regard it. They seek no meaning in place-names, no historical a.s.sociations in the grand old mansions pa.s.sed; to them the river is a playground merely, where every yard of a particular backwater is known, where a favourite boatman reserves a special boat or punt, and where crowds of fellow creatures may be sought or shunned as individual fancy prompts. We might paraphrase Wordsworth and say:

A place-name on the river's brim, A simple name it was to him, And it was nothing more.

One might wander from subject to subject while treating of the Thames, finding in each matter enough for a book, indeed the variety of the subjects rivals in scope that famous conversation which ranged "from sealing-wax to Kings". Romance, history, boating, flowers, regattas, and fish are but a few out of the vast number lying ready for choice, and s.p.a.ce is limited.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAIDENHEAD BRIDGE]

The Thames swans are a feature to be by no means overlooked. They belong to the Crown, the Vintners' and Dyers' Companies, and so ancient are the rights of the companies in this matter that their origin is lost in the mist of antiquity. The annual stock-taking and marking of the swans gives occasion for a pleasant holiday every year about the middle of July; but though the privileged members of the companies and their friends are no longer conveyed in "gaily decorated barges", they no doubt enjoy their excursion by steam launch just as much. "Swan-hopping", as it is usually called, is really a corruption of "swan-upping", meaning the process of taking up the swans to mark them according to their ownership. The Vintners used to mark their swans with a large V across the mandible, but this custom, having been protested against in the new spirit of tenderness which has swept over the country, they now give two nicks only, one on each side. The well-known tavern sign "The Swan with Two Necks" is really a corruption of this much-used mark of identification, and should be "The Swan with Two Nicks".

The King is by far the largest owner, and as he has discontinued the custom of having a number of swans and cygnets taken for the royal table, it is probable that swans will increase on the river very rapidly. The swan has always been a royal bird, and in the time of Edward IV no one was permitted to keep swans unless he had a freehold of at least five marks annually. The order for the regulation of the Thames swans, in which this clause appears, runs to thirty clauses, and is a very quaint doc.u.ment. One sentence is as follows: "It is ordained that every owner that hath any swans shall pay every year ... fourpence to the Master of the Game for his fee, and his dinner and supper free on the Upping Days".

These regulations show that the inst.i.tution of swans on the Thames is a very ancient one, and the graceful, bad-tempered birds themselves add much to the beauty of the river.

The swan with arched neck Between her white wings mantling, proudly rows Her state with oary feet.

--_Milton._