THE OXFORD MEADOWS
[Illustration]
This account of the river may well begin at Folly Bridge, seeing it
is folly in any case to attempt to cut off a section of a river, and,
as before explained, our course from Oxford to London is peculiarly
arbitrary, for the Thames proper does not begin till below Dorchester,
and at Oxford the river is the Isis. Having thus disarmed criticism,
without further explanation or apology, we stand upon Folly Bridge,
which is a little way above the end of the course for both Torpids and
Eights.
To the left are the college barges, resplendent in many colours, with
their slender flagstaffs rising against a background of the shady trees
that border Christchurch meadows. The reach of water beside them is
alive with boats, and the oars rise and dip with the regularity of the
legs of a monster centipede. The barges should be seen in Eights week,
when they are in their glory, occupied by the mothers, sisters, and
aunts of the undergraduates, dressed in costumes that in mass look like
brilliant flower-beds.
To see the bridge properly, however, it is necessary to go down to
the tow-path and look back at it, when its quaint, foreign appearance
can be better estimated. It stands across an island on which is the
renowned Salter's boat-house, and its solidity and the tall houses near
it, which throw black shadows in the yellow sunlight, make it look not
unlike a corner in Venice.
Following the river down, we see on the Oxford side the narrow mouth
of the meandering Cherwell under a white arched bridge. The most
delightful place for "lazing" in a boat is the Cherwell, shady and not
too wide; deliciously cool in the height of the summer, so rich is the
foliage of the over-arching trees. Lower down is the New Cut, destined
to relieve the Cherwell of its superfluous water in flood time and so
prevent the flooding of the Christchurch meadows. Opposite the mouth
of the New Cut is the University Boat-house, and further down, where
a branch of the river runs off to the right, are the bathing places.
This branch is crossed by a bridge, and it makes the next strip of land
an island. The place is known as the Long Bridges. The river narrows
at the point, and the narrowed part is called The Gut; just below a
tributary from the Cherwell, known as the Freshman's river, dribbles
into the Thames. It is at The Gut that the most exciting scenes in the
races generally happen. As everyone knows, Torpids are in the fourth
and fifth weeks after the beginning of the Lent term, and as they
are not of so much importance as the Eights, and as the weather does
not lend itself to open-air festivities, they are generally watched
only by a shivering handful of spectators who have a more or less
personal interest in them. The Eights, which take place in the middle
of the summer term, are the event of the year to Oxford, and intensely
exciting they may be. The lowest boat starts from the lasher above
Iffley, and the course ends at Salter's Barge. But the crux of the
whole matter often lies in The Gut, and much depends on the ability of
the cox to steer a clean course, as to whether his boat is bumped or
bumps. As the boats in cutting the curve below this crucial point come
diagonally at it, disaster here often overtakes a crew which has before
been doing well. The aforesaid narrow channel from the Cherwell is
navigable only in a canoe and by good luck; but the tale is told that
one cox, in his first year, being excited beyond reason, mistook it for
the main channel, and, steering right ahead, landed his crew high and
dry on the shoals. Hence the name, the Freshman's river.
[Illustration: IFFLEY]
Here are two pictures, taken from life, which express the difference
between the two occasions:
The Eights: Brilliant blue sky above, glinting blue water
beneath. Down across Christchurch meadow troops a butterfly
crowd, flaunting brilliant parasols and chattering gaily
to the "flannelled fools" who form the escort. Despite
the laughter it is a solemn occasion, for the college boat
that is head of the river may be going to be bumped this
afternoon, and, if so, the bump will surely take place in
front of the barges. The only question is, before which
barge will it happen? When the exciting moment draws near,
chatter ceases, a tense stillness holds the crowd in thrall;
the relentless pursuers creep on steadily, narrowing the
gap between themselves and the first boat, and finally bump
it exactly opposite its own barge! A moment's pause. The
completeness of the triumph is too impressive to be grasped
at once; then--pandemonium! Pistol-shots, rattles, hoots,
yells, shrieks of joy, wildly waving parasols, and groans.
* * * * *
The Torpids: A raw cold February day; a leaden sky heavy with
snow; dimly seen figures scudding over the frozen meadows
of Iffley; the river itself is almost frost-bound, and the
men waiting in the boats for the starting gun look blue
and pinched. They must find these last ten seconds hard to
endure. Nine, eight, seven, six--ugh! will it never go? At
last! And, as the signal sounds, the oars strike the water
with a splash, and the boats shoot off and begin the long
tussle against a head wind and that strong stream which
always makes the Torpids a harder matter than the Eights
rowed in summer water. It is too late to follow them, so
heigh-ho for the King's Arms Hotel at Sandford, and a cup of
the good hot tea that the landlady knows so well how to make!
The channel running past the bathing places is equally unsuited
for navigation, and is moreover guarded by two mills, but it may be
negotiated with the aforesaid element of good luck. Hinksey Stream
flows into this backwater, and there are several places, after shoals
have been avoided or surmounted, where it is extremely pleasant to
while away an idle hour. By means of the Long Bridges and the lock
at Iffley it is possible to get across the river from side to side
diagonally. Passing on down stream we soon come to Iffley. In the
meantime we can see many of the pinnacles and spires and domes for
which Oxford is famous, and marvellous is the way in which they appear
to swing round as we change our position. The part of new Oxford which
lines the Iffley road behind the meadows is not attractive, but when
we come in sight of Iffley itself we may well exclaim that it would be
hard to find a sweeter spot. There are stone walls, thatched cottages
and farmyards, hay and orchards, elms, alders, and silver-stemmed
birches; in consequence a quiet, rural atmosphere broods over all.
The cows feed down to the edge of the river, and swallows dart about
overhead, while perhaps a man paddling a canoe shoots up and away
again, his white flannels and the strength and grace of his movement
irresistibly recalling a swan. The mill, half stone, half wooden cased,
is very ancient; the massive foundations have become like rock from
their long immersion in the running water. There is a great quiet pool
behind the lock island, and here and there a glimpse may be caught of
the square tower of the famous church, which is not far off, but is
well hidden by trees.
Iffley Church takes rank with Stewkley as the most beautiful example
of a Norman church remaining to us out of London. It is, like so
many Norman churches, very small and very solid. And it must yield
to Stewkley in the fact that its architecture is not pure. Yet its
massive central tower and its fine windows place it very high indeed.
Its date is not certainly known, but is supposed to be between 1160 and
1170. "The interior seems at first sight curious. There are, in fact,
two chancels, one behind the other. The further one is early English
work, and is much lighter in style than the rest of the building, and
the east end is disappointing. This may have been added to lengthen
the church. In the bay next to it, where the choir now sit, there are
fourteenth century windows inserted under Norman arches, showing that
the walls were of the earlier date. These windows were added by John de
la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, in the latter half of the sixteenth century.
There is a groined roof, and the piers are beautifully decorated. The
arches supporting the tower are richly moulded, almost incongruously
so in regard to the massive type of the masonry, which points to early
Norman. The Perpendicular windows inserted in the north and south walls
are good. It is only at the extreme west end that the Norman windows
remain untouched. The font is of black marble, and is very curious.
The triple west-end window, a splendid specimen, is best seen from
the churchyard. Its moulding is very rich, and this alone would be
sufficient to make Iffley rank high among ancient churches. Below it is
a circular window inserted about 1858 on the supposed plan of a former
one of which traces were found. The impossibility of approaching the
style of the old work in modern times was never more strikingly shown.
Below is a fine doorway with beak-head and billet moulding, worthy to
be classed with the triple window. A very ancient yew stands on the
south side of the church, and near it is the slender shaft of an old
cross. The rectory house, dating from Tudor times, is a fine addition
to the picturesque group."--_Guide to the Thames._
Between Iffley and Sandford the famous Oxford meadows are seen at their
best. In the summer they are gemmed with countless flowers, so that
they rival the celebrated Swiss pastures. Prominent among these is the
fritillary:
I know what white, what purple fritillaries
The grassy harvest of the river-fields,
Above by Ensham, down by Sandford yields,
And what sedged brooks are Thames's tributaries.
--_M. Arnold._
Mr. G. Claridge Druce, the well-known botanist, who has made a special
study of the Thames Valley and Oxfordshire, says:--"The Thames from
Oxford to Sandford flows through meadows rich with fritillaries,
its banks are bordered with the sweet-scented Acorus, and its waters
are inhabited by Potamogeton prœlongus, flabellatus, and compressus,
Zannichellia macrostemon, Œnanthe fluviatilis, &c., and near Sandford
appears, for the first time in the river's course, the lovely Leucojum
æstivum." This is the flower better known as the summer snowflake,
which we shall meet again. The above are only a tithe of the flowers
which Mr. Druce mentions. Among others which may be recognised are the
yellow iris, the cuckoo flower, the water villarsia, the purple orchis,
and the willow weed. In the spring the marsh mallow is the first to
appear with a vivid glory as of sunshine. The banks are flat and low,
and, except for the flowers, uninteresting; nevertheless this is a
useful part of the river, especially for sailing. Some college fours
are rowed here. Passing under the railway line we see the pink-washed
walls of the Swan Hotel, which stands on Kennington Island, connected
with the mainland by a bridge; and then we come to Sandford itself,
with charms almost as great as, though entirely different from, those
of Iffley. The approach is disappointing. The tall mill chimney and
the new brick houses are bare and ugly. The mill is a paper mill, and
supplies the Clarendon Press. It stands close to the old-fashioned
and pretty hotel, so completely ivy-covered that even one of the tall
chimneys is quite overgrown. When close to the lock the mill is not
noticeable and has the advantage of affording some shelter. As at
Iffley, one can get right across from bank to bank by means of bridges,
a most charming method that might well be adopted in other parts of
the river. Indeed, near Oxford one great delight is the freedom from
interference. Everyone is allowed full liberty; you may ride your
bicycle along the tow-path, take it across locks, or even walk it by
the side of the meadows, without any rebuke. Having put up a notice
that they are not responsible for the condition of the tow-path and
that people use it at their own risk, the Conservancy leave the matter
alone. The islands at Sandford are rather complicated, and there are a
couple of weirs, beneath which the water frills out over mossy stones
into deep, shady pools. The fishing here is as good as any on the
river. The Radley College boat-house and bathing place are near the
lower pool, the college itself being rather more than a mile away. In
spring these pools, with their broken banks of brown earth and their
masses of scented white hawthorn, are most beautiful. The shy white
violets hide in the grass near the weirs, and are found by only a few
who know where to seek them.
[Illustration: RADLEY COLLEGE BOAT-HOUSE]
In the Oxford zone we must include the woods at Nuneham Courtney,
which, by the courtesy of the owner (Aubrey Harcourt), are open to
undergraduates all Commemoration week and twice a week in the summer
term; while the general public, after writing in advance, are allowed
to picnic at the lock cottages two days a week from May to September.
The Nuneham woods are on a ridge of greensand, and though they are
not so high or at such a striking angle as those of Clieveden, they
certainly have quite as great a charm. Anyone is allowed to walk
through the park if it be approached from the road, but bicycles are
not permitted. The lock cottages, which are a popular resort in the
summer, stand beside a pretty wooden bridge which connects the islands
with the mainland. Masses of wild roses and flowering clematis add
their delicate touch to the beauty of the overhanging trees. Close
by the water is the Carfax monument, a conduit or fountain erected
by Otho Nicholson, who set it up at the place still called Carfax in
Oxford, whence it was removed to its present position in 1787. The
woods contain nothing very striking in the way of trees, though all
the commoner sorts, the beeches, oaks, horse-chestnuts, and so on, are
well represented. There are about 400 acres of wood, which surround the
park, where the oaks show well, standing apart from each other.
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