HAMBLEDEN
But the influence of Henley extends down as well as up the river. Phyllis and Fawley Courts both at one time belonged to Bulstrode Whitelocke. Fawley was wrecked very early in the civil wars; but Phyllis was strongly fortified, and some of the earthworks may still be seen. Henley was a Parliamentarian stronghold, and was annoyed by the neighbourhood of plucky little Greenlands at Hambleden, which, "for a little fort, was made very strong for the King."
It belonged in the time of the Stuarts to Sir Cope d'Oyley, who was a staunch Royalist. When he died his eldest son held Greenlands for the King, and his house was battered by the cannon of the Parliamentarians from across the water. In the nineteenth century the Rt. Hon. W. H. Smith lived here, and his widow took from the village the title he himself never lived to enjoy. In Hambleden also there is a fine old manor house, and some of the clipped yews in the gardens of private houses are very remarkable. High above the place rise the woods near Fingest and Stokenchurch. The weirs at Hambleden are the most attractive on the river. Long curved bridges run across them from shore to shore, and are open to the public as a right-of-way. The curves strike off at different angles, and every moment the point of view changes. Whether we are passing over tumbling weirs, where the water glides across long mossy planes, or over sluice-gates where it bursts through, the enchantment is the same. Flags and tall yellow irises and the greenest of green tufts grow in the water and about the foundations of the bridges. Looking back at the mill, we see it reflected in the calm, deep water above the weirs as in a polished looking-glass. There are old cedars and red-roofed cottages, and plenty of Scotch firs and yew hedges in the background. Away up the river is the white mass of Greenlands with its pierced look-out tower.
CHAPTER XI
THE ROMANCE OF BISHAM AND HURLEY
One of the greatest calumnies I ever heard expressed was the remark, "What, writing a book about the river! Why, the river is all alike, isn't it?" It is true that many reaches of the river are so exceedingly attractive that there is a danger of applying the adjectives "pretty" and "beautiful" and "charming" to many of them, but the sameness is not in the reaches, it is in the poverty of one's own language. What can be more different, for instance, than the river about Maidenhead and the river above Marlow? Yet both are delightful. The patrons of the Maidenhead part no doubt outnumber those of Bisham and Hurley, but that is because Maidenhead is one of the most accessible places on the river. The station at Marlow is on a branch, and many a weary hour must be spent waiting, if one is dependent on trains. This is the only station for Hurley and Bisham, unless we go on equally far in the other direction to Henley. However, this is one of the reasons why the Marlow section is preferable to the Maidenhead one—when you do get there.
Great Marlow itself is a fairly important place for a riverside village. It is like a little country town, and though many new red-brick villas are springing up, it could not be called "residential" in the way that the word could be applied to Richmond, for instance. The ground plan is very simple. One wide street runs straight down to the bridge, and another street crosses it at the top. In the latter is to be found Marlow's chief literary association, for here still stands the cottage where Shelley lived. It is marked by a tablet, and is a low, long building, creeper-covered, and is now divided into several cottages. Here he wrote The Revolt of Islam and Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude.