Chapter 16

It has always been a separate region. Never yet has it entered the heads of its proprietors to join it permanently to the mainland. For three centuries its visitors and people have driven or walked over a tide-washed causeway at low water, or ferried over at high tide. You do so still, in a scrubbed and salty boat, while an ancient road-mender is occupied in the oddest of all forms of road maintenance. He stirs and swirls the mud as the tide goes down, to wash it out of the hollow way, otherwise it would be turned into warp-land every day, and become impassable. The Dutchmen's roads are sound and straight enough on the island. Outside the wall the samphire and orach beds are wholly marine. Inside the dikes and ditches are filled with a purely sweet-water vegetation. Further seawards, or rather riverwards, at a place called "Sluis," they are fringed with wild rose and wild plum, and the ditches are deep in rushes, in willow herb, in purple nightshade, water-mint, and reeds.

Camden gives a curious account of the island in his day. It was constantly almost submerged. The people lived by keeping sheep on it. There were four thousand of a very excellent flavour. Evidently this was the origin of _pre-sale_ mutton in England. Camden saw them milking their sheep, from which they made ewe-milk cheeses. When the floods rose the sheep used to be driven on to low mounds which studded the central parts of the marsh, and these mounds are there still. Some are covered with wild-plum bushes. One, in the centre of the island, is the site of the village of Canvey; and on one, at the time of the writer's last visit, two fine old Essex rams were sleeping in the sun. There was no flood; the island had not known even a partial one for some years. But true to the instincts of their race, they had occupied the highest ground, though it was only a few feet above the levels. There are few land-birds on Canvey Island, because there are few trees. Some greenfinches, a whinchat or two, almost no pipits or larks, and very few sparrows. The shore-birds are numerous and increasing, for the Essex County Council strictly protect all the eggs and birds during the breeding season. Enormous areas of breeding ground are now protected in the wide fringe of private fresh-water marshes of this river-intersected shore. Plovers, redshanks, terns, ducks, especially the wild mallards, are increasing. So are the black-headed gulls; even the oyster-catchers are returning. After nesting the birds lead their young to the southern point of Canvey Island. It is too near the growing and popular Southend for the birds to be other than shy. But as they are not allowed to be shot till the middle of August, they are able to take care of themselves. At the flow of the tide, before the shooting begins, the visitor who makes his way to this distant and unpeopled promontory sees the birds in thousands. Out at sea the ducks were this year as numerous as in the old days before breechloaders and railways. Stints and ringed plover, golden plover and redshanks were flitting everywhere from island to island on the mud and ooze; curlews were floating and flapping over the "fleets"; and all were in security. As the tide flowed, they crowded on to the highest and last-covered islets, whence, as the inexorable tide again rose, they took wing and flew swiftly to the Essex shore. The Sluis, looking across to the Kentish shore, is the home of the seagulls. Many quaint ships lie anchored there--Dutch eel-boats, which call for refreshment after selling the cargo; barges; hoys from the Medway bound to Harwich; and fishing-smacks and timber-brigs. Round these the seagulls float, as tame almost as London pigeons. They prefer company, at least the lesser gulls do; the big herring gulls and black-backed gulls keep aloof.

The hope of reclaiming land from the waves exercises a peculiar fascination over most minds. It presents itself in more than one form as a most desirable activity. It is something like creation--a form of making earth from sea. The clothing of the fringe of ocean's bed with herbage, the reaping of a harvest where rolled the tide, the barring out of the dominant sea, the vision, not altogether illusive, of planting industrious and deserving men on the ground so won, all these are alluring ideas. The undertaker, to use the word in vogue in the Stuart days when such enterprises were in high favour, always leaves a name among posterity, generally an honoured name, and in nearly every case one associated with courage, perseverance, and in some measure with benevolence. The picturesque and sentimental side will always remain to the credit of the reclaimers of the waste of Neptune's manor. But if the balance of profitable expenditure, or of good done to others, is weighed between winning land from the sea and expenditure in improving the cultivation of land already accessible, the award should probably be given to the latter. Intensive cultivation and the improvement of the millions of acres which we now possess is a more thankworthy task, demands more brains, and should give greater results than the gaining of a few thousands of acres now covered by water. This conclusion is not the one which any lover of enterprise or of picturesque endeavour would prefer. It is a pity that it is so. Perhaps in days to come when wheat is once more precious the sea wastes may once more be worth recovery. But even so they are not desirable spots on which to plant a population. They are by natural causes on the way to nowhere, and out of communication with the towns and villages. Brading Harbour, in the Isle of Wight, is an exception, for it ran up inland. Lord Leicester's marshes at Holkham are narrow though long, and, while splendidly fertile, are all well within reach of the farms and villages. But to scatter farms and labourers' cottages on the dreary flats of a place like Canvey Island is not likely to appeal to the wishes of modern agriculturists, who feel the dulness of rural life acutely already. The growth of the Jewish colonies not far off on the mainland, where poor Hebrews continually reinforce a community devoted to field and garden labour and content to begin by earning the barest living, seems to indicate that a population from the poorest urban class might be found for reclaimed land. But the industrious town artisans of English blood have not yet found life so intolerable as to be ready to try the experiment.

THE LONDON THAMES AS A WATERWAY

Mary Boyle, in "Her Book," speaking of the time when her father had an appointment at the Navy Board and a residence in Somerset House, says, "It was our great delight to go by water on Sunday afternoon to Westminster Abbey, and there is no doubt we occasionally cut a grand figure on the river; for when my father went out he had a splendid barge, rowed by boatmen clad entirely in scarlet, with black jockey caps, such as in those picturesque old days formed part of that beautiful river procession in honour of the Lord Mayor, on the 9th of November, over the disappearance of which pageant I have often mourned."

It was not until the early days of the present reign that neglect and dirt spoiled our river as an almost Royal waterway; and we believe that as late as the days of Archbishop Tait the Primate's State barge used to convey him from Lambeth Palace to the House of Lords opposite. State barges and river processions were the standing examples of State pageantry, thoroughly popular and remembered by the intensely conservative people of London; and it is a tribute to the feeling that the use of the river was a necessary part of London life, that the Lord Mayor and his suite on the 9th of November used to take boat at Blackfriars Bridge, and went thence by water to Westminster Hall, returning in their State barges to the bridge, where their coaches were waiting for them. We may credit the founders of the earliest illustrated paper with a knowledge of the popular sentiment of the day. When the _Illustrated London News_ was established the title-page of that paper showed the Thames, with the procession of State barges in the foreground, and the then new and popular river steamers passing by them.

In addition to cleanliness something in the form of a restoration of old conditions of water-level and other improvements by modern engineering will also be required if the river is to become a popular waterway. Among the main drawbacks to its present use is the great difference in level between high and low water. The old London Bridge, with its multiplied arches and pillars, acted as a lock. It admitted the flood tide more easily than it released the ebb. The consequence was that when the tide began to fall the waters above were pent in by the bridge, and the river was kept at a level of three feet higher than it was below the obstruction. Even now at flood tide it is a splendid and imposing river. But the very improvements which add to its dignity when the tide is flowing, have caused it to remain almost waterless for a longer period during each day. The dredging and deepening of the channel forces the waterway to contract its flow, while the embanking of its sides enables the tide to slip down at great speed. For four hours in each tide the Thames is not so much a river as a half-empty conduit. It is not in the least probable that this will be allowed to continue. The success of the half-tide lock at Richmond has been beyond all expectation. It has secured a perpetual river, whether on the ebb or flow, with a mean level suited for boating and traffic at all hours. A scheme for another lock of the same kind at Wandsworth is now accepted in principle and nearly completed in detail. When this is built the long stretch of river from Wandsworth, past Putney, Ranelagh, Hammersmith, Barnes, and Kew, will retain a permanent and constant supply, augmented at the flood tide, but never falling below a certain level at the ebb. Then must follow the final and complete measure for making the London river the greatest natural amenity in the Metropolis, a half-tide lock at London Bridge, to hold up the water opposite the historic and magnificent frontage of St. Paul's, the Temple, Westminster and Lambeth, and upwards to above the embankments at Chelsea. The result would be an immense fresh-water lake, with an ebb and flow to keep it sweet and pure, but remaining for the greater part of the twenty-four hours at a fixed level, and during this period of rest only moved by a very gentle downward stream, or else practically still when the water sank level with the sills of the lock. This would make it not only easy for boats propelled by steam, sail, or oars to move on it at all hours, without hindrance from the present strong up or down currents, but also absolutely safe. Any craft, from the outrigger and Canada canoe, to the improved river steamers which would at once be launched upon its waters, could float with ease and safety on the London Thames.

The scene in the near future can be imagined from the analogy of Henley, though the larger scale of the London river makes the forecast more difficult to bring into proportion. The intentionally decorative side, given on the upper river by the houseboats, will doubtless be supplied by a new service of public or municipal passenger steamers, able to ply continuously at all hours, independently of the tide, as fast as safety permits, and absolutely punctual because the stream will be under control. These should be as brilliantly carved, gilded, coloured, and furnished as possible, surplus profits only going to the municipal coffers after the boats have been repaired yearly and thoroughly redecorated. The scheme is not in the least visionary. The Chairman of one of the tramway companies obtained recently complete estimates for a fast, luxurious, and beautiful service of Thames passenger boats, which he was convinced would pay even now; and though he did not succeed in inducing the shareholders to accept the idea of this alternative investment, there is no doubt that on the improved river the improved steamers would pay. A simultaneous and necessary addition would be the building of numerous broad, accessible, and beautiful stairs and landing places. Instead of the narrow gangway through which files of passengers slowly creep there must be long platforms, on to which the crowds on board the vessels step, as from a train, all along the length of the ships, so that the touch and departure may be rapid. The decline of traffic on the river is largely due to the narrowness and fewness of these points of access, which were gradually closed as the river was deserted for the road, while their blocking or neglect discouraged efforts to improve or multiply boats and steamers.

In 1543 there were twelve large and handsome flights of stairs down to the river between Blackfriars and Westminster. In 1600, besides these there were public and private gateways of large size, covered docks for State and private barges, and every convenience for access to the water. There were stairs and stages at Essex House, Arundel House, Somerset House, York House (the water-gate of which still remains, with a frontage of embankment and garden between it and the river of to-day), Bedford House, Durham House, Whitehall, and Westminster. The latter were "the King's Stairs." There are few constructions which lend themselves better to architectural treatment than water-gates and stairways. They would become one of the features of the Embankment. On the river itself the City Companies would once more launch their State barges, and the Houses of Parliament would have a flotilla of decorative steam or electric launches. Permanent moorings, now difficult to maintain near the bank on account of the runaway tide, would hold boats, launches, and single-handed sailing yachts. No one will grudge the County Council a State barge; while the new municipalities which border on the river--Westminster, Southwark, Fulham, Kensington, and the rest--will endeavour to interest their members in the great waterway by following the example of the Thames Conservancy and sending their representatives for official voyages to survey its banks and note suggestions for improvements in their actual setting and surroundings. No doubt in winter all the minor pleasure traffic would cease. But there is no reason whatever why a service of ornamental and well-equipped screw steamers plying at very short intervals, and with absolute punctuality, should not continue all the winter through. They would be entirely unlike the "penny boat." Double-storied deckhouses, glazed and warmed, would afford the passengers more room, purer air, and a more rapid means of transport than the omnibus, and a far more agreeable mode of crossing from one side of the river to the other than by railway bridges, tunnels, or the architecturally beautiful, but crowded, stone bridges used for ordinary traffic.

THE THAMES AS A NATIONAL TRUST

A movement is on foot among various societies interested in the preservation of outdoor England to take measures jointly for the protection of the beauties of the Thames. The subject is one which attracts more interest yearly, and the time has now come when the nation should make up its mind on the subject of such splendid properties as it possesses in "real estate" like the Thames and the New Forest, with especial regard to their value for beauty and enjoyment. It would be unfair to expect too much from the Thames Conservancy in this direction. That body exists to maintain the navigation of the river, and to see that no impediments are put in the way of its use as a waterway. Its duties are, in the first instance, those of a Highway Board, which deals with a river instead of a road. It has to buoy wrecks, and see that they are raised. It controls the speed of steamers and launches, not, in the first place, because they are a nuisance to pleasure boats, but because the "wash" destroys the banks, and this costs money to repair. It arranges for the dredging of shallows in the fairway, for the embankment of the shores, and for the repair and maintenance of the locks. Its business is to do this as cheaply as is consistent with efficiency, and to lay no unavoidable burden on the trade of the river. The preservation of its amenities is not, strictly speaking, the object for which the Conservancy exists. Yet it has done much in this direction, by obtaining from time to time powers not originally in its jurisdiction. It may be said to be on its way to become a guardian of the amenities of the river, though these, which are fast becoming far more important than its use as a means of traffic, were at first only accidentally objects of solicitude to the Conservators, and such attention as is by them devoted to this end is mainly confined to the Upper Thames, and not to the London river. Legislation to preserve natural beauty, or prevent disfigurement, has practically only been possible in recent years, and the wish to do so, though shared by most classes, is not yet so pronounced as it ought to be. What the Conservancy has been able to do, under these circumstances, has been done, partly on grounds of health, which are recognised in Legislation, and partly to preserve the fishery. It has endeavoured to keep the river from the most disgusting forms of pollution, and lately from being made the receptacle for minor but objectionable refuse. It has certainly prevented the Upper Thames being made into a sewer, and also stopped pollution by paper mills and factories. London's need of pure drinking water has given immense assistance to the forces which were working to keep our rivers clean. All the tributaries of the Thames are now under surveillance, and no village or little country town may use them to pour sewage into. Country villagers may grumble at being forced to keep water clean for Londoners to drink. But this Act has done more to preserve the amenities of the countryside than any other of this generation. It is so far-reaching, and so frankly expresses the principle of placing public rights in the "natural commodity" of pure water in our rivers before private convenience in saving expense, that it is a hopeful sign of the times. While the existence of this extensive control is a guarantee for the increasing pureness of the Upper Thames, it is also a precedent for regulating and increasing the supervision of this national property in the most beautiful, the largest, and the most pleasant highway in our country, whose very pavement is a means of delight to the eye, of pleasure to the touch, and of refreshment to all the senses. The minor regulations for its maintenance are still more encouraging, for some of these aim directly at preserving beauty, or objects of natural interest, for their own sake. The oldest are those which protect the fishery. There is one close-time for the coarse fish, another for the trout, and a limit of size to the meshes of the nets which may be used. Such minor disfigurements as the throwing of ashes from steam-launches into the water or of kitchen _debris_ from houseboats are forbidden. Recently the Conservators have taken powers more frankly directed to the preservation of natural beauty, though even in these cases what may be called direct "taste legislation" has not been exercised. They have not asked for leave to say definitely: "This or that object is hideous or disfiguring, and cannot be allowed by the side of our national highway." But they have said, "This or that object which grows on or lives by the side of our river-road is beautiful, and gives pleasure to the public, and therefore it shall not be destroyed." The result has been that the birds on the river and its banks may no longer be shot, and certain flowers are not permitted to be plucked. The Conservancy is also able indirectly to exercise some control over riverside building operations, and very recently compelled an alteration of design in the use of a building site on a reach of the Upper Thames.

It may be asked why, if so much has already been done, we should not rest contented with the present control of the river, trusting that a gradual increase of powers will be granted to the Conservancy, so that little by little they may be able to meet all requirements for the preservation of the Thames as our national river, just as the New Forest is preserved on the grounds that it was "of unique beauty and historic interest."