The Abbey river starts away on its own account on the far side of the Hook, and begins its short course of about a couple of miles, to fall into the Thames again at Chertsey. It used to be possible to get up it in a boat, but now it is barred. However, visitors have nothing to complain of, for the meadows around are singularly open to them, and the place is not hedged about with restrictions as are so many river resorts. Numbers of people come down to picnic, and it is no uncommon sight to see quite a row of motors outside the lock-keeper's house, while footman or chauffeur carries across the luncheon hampers to what was once a peninsula but is now an island. Tradesmen's carts come round too, finding in the swallow-colony quite enough demand to make it worth their while; and year by year the bungalows grow. A whole new piece of meadow, hitherto osier bed, is even now going to be devoted to them. "Why, I get as many as twenty to thirty applications for land every week," says the lock-keeper. It is to be hoped Penton Hook will not become over-populated, or the delightful freedom from conventionality which now characterises it might die away. "Ladies who come down here—why, some of them, they never put a hat on their heads the whole time, and I was going to say not shoes or stockings either!" The place is particularly sought after by theatrical people. Miss Ellen Terry still holds the bungalow she has had for many years. It is surprising how early the season begins; even at the end of chilly March a few of the first of the swallows appear.
CHAPTER XVI
ABOUT CHERTSEY AND WEYBRIDGE
Between Chertsey and Penton Hook is Laleham, where the tiny ivy-covered church is too much hidden away to be seen easily. An old red brick moss-grown wall is the chief object near the river, and with the bending trees and quiet fields there is a sense of brooding peace which only remains in places off the main roads. Matthew Arnold was born at Laleham and is buried in the churchyard. His father, Dr. Arnold of Rugby, came here in 1819, but he left when Matthew was only six, to take the head-mastership of Rugby.
Between Laleham and Chertsey there is some open, rather untidy ground on which gypsies are wont to camp. It cannot be said that the river looks its best above Chertsey. The country is too flat and open, and on a summer day one is too often scorched. Yet there is always some beauty to be found, and it is certainly in open spaces like these that we see best reflected "heaven's own blue." Away to the west the tiny Abbey river flows in past a mill. By Chertsey bridge a triumphant victory in regard to right-of-way over the Thames Conservancy in 1902, is recorded on two newly built villas. Opposite is the Bridge Hotel, which, with its little bay, its Lombardy poplars and green lawn, is a pleasant oasis.
Chertsey Abbey, which was of great fame, lay between the town and the river. It was founded in 666, and some Saxon tiles from the flooring may be seen in the British Museum. The buildings were destroyed by the Danes, but it was re-established in 964 as a Benedictine Monastery.
Nothing shows more the immense power of the monks in England than these mighty abbeys which studded the country. We have come across so many, even in our short journey between Oxford and London, that the fact cannot escape notice; though they probably were more thickly set beside the river than elsewhere, because, as I have said, flowing water attracted these old monks for more than one reason. There is hardly anything left of Chertsey Abbey now, yet in its prime it was like a small town, giving employment to hundreds of people. There are a few ivy-covered steps near the back of the church and an old bit of wall doubtfully supposed to have been part of the boundary; this is near the Abbey river. Henry VI. was buried at Chertsey, and his funeral is referred to in Shakespeare's play of Richard III.:
... after I have solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king,