ii
I will take these two things in their order.
The way in which the whole history of England has been modified by the presence of water is a topographical point of capital importance to the understanding of the national life. There is no other large island in the world which has rivers in anything like the same proportion as we have, either in number or in disposition. Most of the large islands have no navigable rivers at all. Sicily has none, Iceland has none, nor Crete, nor Cyprus, nor Sardinia, nor Corsica. Not only have we a host of navigable rivers, but they are so disposed that they penetrate the very heart of the country. The Trent, for instance, is the most arresting thing upon the map. It looks almost as though it had been specially designed to make the inmost heart of England penetrable to commerce and travel in the east. The Thames, in the same way, goes right into the heart of southern central England; and even the Severn, the rapidity of which has militated against its modern use, had a considerable use in the past and was an artery in the Middle Ages, even for upward traffic, to the neighbourhood of Wenlock Edge.
The great rivers alone, however, do not account for the most of this character. It is the mass of small but navigable streams, both tributary to the main systems and isolated along the coast, which have so profoundly affected our history. If you take one of those outline maps of England with the waterways only marked, such as are sold for use in schools, and plot out the highest point upon a stream to which a fairly loaded boat can penetrate, you will be astonished to find how small a central area is left out. One might say that the whole of England, outside the hill country of the Pennines, the Lakes, and the border, is so penetrated by water carriage that if there were no roads at all its life could, under primitive conditions, be carried on by waterways alone.
Now this universal presence of waterways, which meant every opportunity for internal traffic and also for approach from outside the island, has had two effects upon the Road. First, it has made for diversion—that is, for the modification of the English Road from a direct to an indirect and sinuous line. Secondly, it has interrupted what would otherwise be main lines of travel in the necessity under which men found themselves of turning aside for the lowest bridge upon each stream.
As to the first of these points, it will at once be observed that unless you have some strong compelling motive for driving a simple straight line you will, in a country of many rivers, avoid such a scheme and seek for the cheapest crossing of each water. You must seek a ford, or narrow, or a place with specially hard banks, and not merely take haphazard that part of the stream which lies on your direct line, and seeing that such numerous waterways involve also long numerous flats along the streams, valley floors subject to flood or formed of boggy soil, the tendency to diversion in a road system under such conditions is intensified by the marshes which abound in a country so watered.
If you look at the Roman road system you will see how, for the considerations which I will deal with later, it usually; if not always, neglects special opportunities and takes the water as it comes, preferring an expensive straight line to a cheaper winding line; but everything done since the Roman road system has been affected by the perpetual consideration of the easiest river crossings inland, while the same influence has deflected the road round the greater estuaries and ports.
Part II, Sketch II
The lowest bridge over a river is a point of transformation. It stops traffic from the sea going any higher. But to carry on your journey from the sea as far as possible is obviously an economic advantage, especially in early days of expensive and slow road traffic. Therefore a nation dealing with the sea and largely living through sea-trade casts its first bridge as far up stream as possible, and that is exactly what you find upon all the rivers of England for centuries. Even to this day the tendency to build bridges lower down than the old first bridge is checked, in spite of the very strong motive we have in the development of the railway system. Take a map [(Sketch II]), and look round the coast and see how true this is.
The lowest old bridge of the Tyne was at Newcastle; of the Trent, I believe, at Gainsborough; of the Thames, of course, right up inland at London; of the Stour, at Canterbury; of the Sussex Ouse, at Lewes; of the Arun, at Arundel; of the Exe, at Exeter. The deep arms of Plymouth Sound were unbridged until the railway came; so Fowey river and the Fal, unbridged to this day; the Severn is not bridged at all till Gloucester, nor was the Dee till Chester.
Now this had the effect everywhere of checking a direct road system and deflecting the ways everywhere to suit the convenience of the ports. And there again we find, for reasons which will be given in a moment, the Roman roads directly crossing estuaries, but every subsequent road system going round them. Take two examples. The Roman road to the north, which runs all along the ridge of Lincolnshire, strikes the Humber where that stream is from 2000 to 3000 yards wide, crosses by a ferry, and continues on the far side.
The Roman road system of Kent did the same thing over the Wansum when that stream was—as Rice Holmes has proved—a broad estuary 3000 yards across, with Richborough as an island in its midst. The Roman road from Dover and the one from Canterbury met at a point opposite Richborough, whence a ferry took people across to Richborough.
Again, the Roman road to the lead mines of the Mendips ends at the wide mouth of the Severn, and is carried on again on the far Welsh side. But every road system since has gone right round by Gloucester, and the inconvenient effects of this, as road travel develops and water carriage declines, are very noticeable to-day. In all that southern coast of Devon between Lyme Regis and the Exe, if you want to get round to the maritime south-western bulge of the county you must make an elbow through Exeter. Similarly the Sussex coast, now so crowded, has only been linked up quite recently by bridges: the one at Shoreham was built within living memory, the swing bridge at Littlehampton is an affair of the last few years, as also the swing bridge at Newhaven of this generation. For 1500 years no one could proceed along that coast continuously from, say, Portsmouth by Littlehampton, Shoreham, Seaford (later Newhaven), Hastings, Rye, without turning inland to cross at Arundel, at Bramber, at Lewes, at Robertsbridge. One of the subsidiary effects of this interruption was the comparative ease with which the coast could be attacked from the sea, for the difficulty of rapid concentration upon any one point, in the lack of lateral communication, handicapped the defending force by land. All through mediaeval history the Sussex coast was raided from the sea. So much for the effect of waterways, the main physical cause of diversion in the English Road.