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.
[Illustration: HAULING THE NETS FOR WHITEBAIT. _From photographs by R.
B. Lodge_.]
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.
[Illustration: FISHING BOATS AT LEIGH. _From photographs by R. B. Lodge_.]
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."
The answer is that, in the first place, this is not the proper business of
the Conservancy, but only an incidental duty; and, in the next, that with
the best of goodwill, as is shown by what they have done, the Conservators
have only been able to mitigate, not to control, a vast amount of
disfigurement and abuse of the river in the past. They were not created
_ad hoc_, and the body has not the position which would enable them
to take a strong line, or powers for expenditure on purely
non-remunerative business, such as might be necessary if a millowner had
to be bought out if about to sell his property for conversion into a
gasworks, like the factory of the Brentford Gas Company just opposite the
palace at Kew, or the foul soapworks which for years disfigured the banks
and polluted the air at Barnes. They have not the funds to maintain a
proper police to stop the minor pollution of the river, or to scavenge it
properly, and anywhere below Kew Bridge they are entirely unable to cope
with bankside disfigurements. Else we cannot believe that for years the
bank opposite the terrace at Barnes and the villas above it would have
been given up to the shooting of dustbin refuse for hundreds of yards, or
that Chiswick and Richmond would have been permitted to pour "sewage
effluent" into what are still two of the finest reaches on the London
river, or that we should see advertisements of "A Site on the
River--Suitable for a Nuisance Trade," advertised, as was recently done,
in a daily paper. If the London public, for instance, will only make up
its mind in time that the Thames is something really necessary to its
enjoyment of life; that it is the most beautiful natural area which they
can easily reach; that on it may be had the freshest air, the best
exercise, good sport (if the fishery were replenished and the water kept
clean), and constant rest and refreshment for mind and body--it would no
doubt succeed in inducing Parliament to put the river under a strong
Commission with an adequate endowment. But the preservation of the Thames
is more than a local, or even a London, question. It is a national
property and of national importance, and should be managed from this point
of view. Mr. Richardson Evans has made out a good case for national
_property_ in scenery generally. But here the case is stronger,
because the river _is_ a national property already, and anything
which decreases its amenities for private ends damages the property. Like
very much other real estate, its value depends now not on its return to
the nation as a highway (above London, that is), but purely as a "pleasure
estate." Supposing any private owner to be in possession of a beautiful
stretch of river, is it conceivable that, if he could, he would not get a
law passed to prevent gasworks, or hideous advertisements, or rowdy
steamers, or stinking dust-heaps, or sewage works from spoiling any part
of it? Would he let people throw in dead cats and dogs, or set up
cocoa-nut shies on the banks?--all of which things have been done, and are
done, between Syon House and Putney Bridge, on the way by river from
London itself to London's fairest suburbs, Richmond and Twickenham. Or
would he allow himself to be shut off from access to his own river, or
forbidden to walk along the path by its side, supposing that one existed?
Yet the public, whose rights of way on the Thames are as good as those of
any private owner on his own waters, either suffer these things to go by
default, or at most permit and only faintly encourage a body which was not
created to care for this purpose, to undertake it because there is no
other authority to do so. It is no use to leave these things to the local
authority, however competent. There is always the danger that local
authorities--even those representing interests normally opposed to each
other--may agree to press local interests at the expense of the public.
What is needed is that both the New Forest and the Thames shall be created
national Trusts. Both are as valuable, as unique, and as important as the
British Museum, and should be controlled by trustees of such standing and
position that their decision on matters of taste and expediency in
managing and maintaining the natural amenities of the national forest and
the national stream would be beyond question. The decisions of the
trustees of the British Museum are scarcely ever questioned by public
opinion. Could not the national river be placed under similar
guardianship?
End of Project Gutenberg's The Naturalist on the Thames, by C. J. Cornish