The Thames

by G. E. Mitton

Yet the continual increase in the size of ships, and the consequent demand for a river ever deeper, is a source of perplexity to the Thames Conservancy. This involves constant dredging, which would not be necessary were a perpetual high tide to be maintained. It is true that this dredging in some parts is a source of profit, not of expense. Thames gravel is exceedingly valuable, and it is found to be worth while for men not only to buy and maintain large dredgers down near the river mouth, but to pay a rent of something like £1500 to the Conservancy for the privilege of doing so! The dredging, however, is not all so profitable. Where the river-bed is slime and mud, the channel has to be kept clear by dredgers at the expense of the Conservancy, and no delightful rents accrue from the process. This dredging is altogether rather an interesting matter. In some places it is found remunerative enough for men to do it by hand for the sake of what they bring up, and they obtain leave to go dredging.

It is a fact not realised by everyone that the whole river, and all the craft upon it are under the strictest surveillance. Everything that floats must be licensed and carry its number for purposes of ready identification. The barges seen lying about in shoals near Westminster or Waterloo Bridges are not lying haphazard, but in certain specified places marked by buoys and allotted by the Conservancy, much as cabstands are allotted by the police. It is true that quays, wharves, landing stages, etc., being on land, are not subject to the Conservancy, which is in the somewhat anomalous position of dealing with the water, but not with the banks that hem it in. Yet the Conservancy manages to have a finger in this too, for suppose a man buys a bit of the river's bank, and erects a boat-building establishment thereon, he is obviously at a loss without steps down to the water or a landing place, and for this he has to pay rent to the Conservancy. The amusing part of it is that a man's property is sometimes in the air. In the case of a tree growing out of the water, it would truly tax the judgment of a Solomon to say what the rights of the Conservancy are toward that tree; but it is held that if the tree constitutes any danger or obstruction to the river-way the Conservators may insist on its being lopped. In connection with this a curious case sometimes arises. Man is always cunning where his own interests are concerned. It is not only to one man that the idea has occurred of propping up his overhanging tree by a stake. And, if the stake remains for any length of time, silt and rubbish collect between it and the shore, and eventually the island or the land of the cunning man is enlarged by a foot or two! More; sometimes stakes have been planted in the river bed with the same object without even excuse of the tree. It is the duty of the Conservancy officials to deal with all such stakes.

Whatever may be alleged as to our neglect of the river at London, no such charge can be brought against us in our appreciation of it higher up. Day by day, in the summer, hundreds enjoy the air and the brilliance and the interest of the river reaches. House-boats are moored, permission and licences having been obtained, and men and women practically live in the open air for weeks together. The house-boats are not allowed to anchor everywhere, but are allotted certain stations, due regard being had to the width of the river. If they plant themselves near private ground they must gain the permission of the owner, as well as of the Conservancy, which is quite reasonable.

To preserve an unimpeded channel may be taken as one of the great duties of the Conservancy. For this reason they have power to remove snags; to prevent the egotistical punt-fisher from placing his punt broadside in the midmost current; and to regulate the rules for the passing of craft. It is rather amusing to see sometimes how the punt man edges his craft as far from the bank as he dare before he sits down on his cane-bottomed chair and sorts out his tackle; but if a Conservancy official come along, and, eyeing him, decides, in spite of his extreme innocency and unconsciousness, that he has encroached too far, back he has to go. It is a perpetual game.

In regard to the fishing, most of the Thames is free; and the coarse fishing—bream, dace, chub, and so on—is good of its kind. Here and there, as at Hedsor, there is a bit preserved. For the commonsense view is taken that, if both banks belong to the same owner, the river bed belongs also to him, and likewise the fishing. He cannot, however, prevent boats from passing up and down the stream flowing through his property, or the highway would be a highway no more. The fishery in the Thames has of late years greatly improved, owing to the disinterested action of many clubs and associations in putting in stock which they cannot hope subsequently to reclaim, but which, once gone into the water, belongs to everyone alike. An instance of this occurred recently, when 300 trout (Salmo fario), about fourteen inches long, were put into the Thames at Shepperton Weir in March by the Weybridge, Shepperton, and Halliford Thames Trout Stocking Association. These trout cost 2s. 6d. each! There is good coarse fishing in nearly all parts of the Thames; bream, dace, chub, perch, and pike can generally be caught.

There are many curious and interesting points in regard to the river, and none more interesting than those relating to the tow-path. This venerable and ancient right-of-way still remains, crossing and recrossing from side to side as occasion demands, but traversable from end to end. As, however, it passes through private grounds by far the greater part of the way, it is private, and yet public. Bicycles are frequently forbidden by stern notices put up by owners, who yet cannot prevent the pedestrian. The Conservancy has no power over the tow-path. What, then, happens when a part of the tow-path gives way and requires making up again? In theory it is the owner's duty to do it; but it would be expecting rather more than is warranted of human nature to expect an owner, who must regard the right-of-way with dislike and suspicion, to incur expense by mending it. As a matter of fact, if he does not do it, the Conservancy does. It may be remarked here that a very simple and effective way of embanking, known as "camp-shedding," is often employed about the river banks and the projecting points of lock islands which are liable to be carried away by the current. This consists in dropping large bags of dry cement into the water. The water itself consolidates and hardens the stuff, which becomes a splendid barrier.

There is another point in connection with the breaking away of the tow-path which is still more perplexing. Supposing it breaks away from a private owner's land in such a way that it cannot be built up again, but must be carried inland, what right has the public to say, "My right-of-way has fallen into the water, so I am going to take some of your land to replace it"? Apparently none at all. Yet the tow-path must be carried on. One wonders how, in the beginning, it was allotted to one side or the other. How was it that one owner said, "My lawns must slope right down to the water's edge; therefore I will not have the tow-path on my side; let it go upon the other?" And why has it never happened that two owners, equally strong and equally determined, have both flatly refused it? Be that as it may, the tow-path runs its tortuous but continuous course, and will continue to run as long as the river flows.

Such things as locks and weirs are, of course, entirely in the power of the Conservancy, who pay the keepers and regulate the fees. The half-tide lock at Richmond has answered admirably so far (see [p. 196]); but the question is, Where is this sort of thing going to stop? There is an idea now of a similar lock at Wandsworth, and then we come to the matter of the barrage. We are so greedy of our river, we want it to be pent up, and not allowed to flow away to the sea. Weirs of some sort, which were at first called locks, are very ancient. In the end of the twelfth century we find orders respecting them.

Stow tells us that about the year 1578 or 1579 there were twenty-three "locks," sixteen mills, sixteen floodgates and seven weirs on the river between Maidenhead and Oxford. In the next six years thirty more locks and weirs had been made in spite of complaints that many persons had been drowned "by these stoppages of the water." He adds that "the going up the locks was so steep that every year cables had been broken that cost £400." Especial complaint was made about Marlow lock, where one man had had his brains dashed out, and Stow remarks that all the compensation the widow received was £5! The barges were not charged for going up but only for coming down, and a barge passing from Oxford to London in Stow's time paid £12 18s. This was in the summer, when the water was low. In 1585 a petition was made to Queen Elizabeth "in the name of the widows and fatherless children whose parents and husbands were by these means slain, against the great mischief done to her loving subjects by the great number of dangerous locks, weirs, mills and floodgates unlawfully erected in many places on the river." Queen Elizabeth must have known something of the subject from her early acquaintance with Bisham. (See [Chap. XI].)

In an old book of 1770 we find this passage: "The locks were machines of wood placed across the river, and so contrived to hold the water as long as convenient, that is, till the water rises to such a height as to allow of depth enough for the barge to pass over the shallows, which being effected, the water is set at liberty, and the loaded vessel proceeds on its voyage till another shoal requires the same convenience to carry it forward. This arrangement was in the summer when the water was low; in other seasons the locks were removed."