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RICHMOND

Nowadays many besides monks have discovered the desirability of a river residence; too many, in fact, for a house with the lawn of that unrivalled turf, smooth as velvet, bright as emerald, which grows only by Thames side, commands a rent out of reach of all but the well-to-do. How beautiful such river lawns may be can be judged only at the time when the crimson rambler is in its glory, flinging its rose-red masses over rustic supports, and finding an extraordinary counterblast of colour in the striking vermilion of the geraniums which line the roofs of the prettily painted houseboats anchored near. A houseboat is not exactly a marvel either of comfort or cheapness, but as a joyous experience it is worth the money. You see them lying up in lines by Molesey and Richmond out of the season, dead lifeless things, with weather-stained paint and tightly shut casements. How different are they in the summer, resplendent in blue and white, lined by flowers and vivified by men in flannels and girls in muslin frocks, with parasols like flowers themselves; then the very houseboat seems alive.

Of all the notable houses which are passed in following “the silver-winding” way of the Thames two cannot be overlooked, because, being perched in lordly situations, they command great vistas of the river. The first is Cliveden, standing high above the woods and facing down the river to Maidenhead. The present house dates only from the middle of the nineteenth century. It has had two predecessors, both destroyed by fire. The first one was built by “Steenie”, first Duke of Buckingham, Charles I’s favourite. His gay, arrogant life, which came to a fitting end by the assassin’s knife, was carried on at Cliveden with unbridled licence and extravagance. His wardrobe for the journey to Spain with Charles, when Prince of Wales, consisted of “twenty-seven rich suits, embroidered and laced with silk and silver plushes, besides one rich satten incut velvet suit, set all over, both suit and cloak, of diamonds, the value whereof is thought to be about one thousand pounds”. It was to Cliveden the duke brought the Countess of Shrewsbury after he had killed her husband by mortally wounding him in a duel, while she stood by disguised as a page and held his horse.

There is nothing more curious than to discover how young were the principal actors in the dramas of history. After a life full of action, of intrigue, of excitement, the first Duke of Buckingham’s career was ended at the early age of thirty-six. He left a son and daughter, and another son, Francis, was born shortly after. This boy is described as having been singularly lovable and handsome. He fought gallantly for his King in the civil wars, and was killed when only nineteen at Kingston-on-Thames, thereby, giving us another riverside association. He stood with his back against an oak tree, scorning to ask quarter from his enemies, and fell covered with wounds.

It was an age of masques and dramas, and Buckingham was the patron of many a poet. Ben Jonson’s masques, performed in costumes designed by Inigo Jones, were popular both with him and the King. In later days Cliveden was the scene of another masque, Alfred, written by James Thomson, who was staying in the house as a guest of Frederick, Prince of Wales, then the lessee. This masque itself is long forgotten, but it contained “Rule, Britannia!” the national song which thus first made the walls of Cliveden echo, before it echoed round the Empire. The masque was performed at a fête given in the garden, Aug. 1 and 2, 1740. Thomson’s connection with the Thames does not end here. It was at the Mall, Hammersmith, that he had previously written The Seasons.

Enough has been said of Cliveden to show that not only in situation but in interesting association it takes high rank among river mansions. The other pronouncedly notable high-standing river mansion is Danesfield, above Hurley, built of chalk, and reared upon the great chalk cliffs that here line the river’s flood. On the slopes near, in crocus time, the hills shine purple and gold with blossom, resembling a royal carpet spread by someone’s lavish hand. The place derives its name from having been the site of a Danish encampment.

But Cliveden and Danesfield do not exhaust the list of fine riverside mansions, though, as they stand so high, they are more conspicuous than most. One of the most delightful and desirable of all the old houses is Bisham Abbey, not far from Marlow, picturesque in itself and redolent of old associations. There is the Bisham ghost, which spreads itself across the river in a thin, white mist which means death to those who try to penetrate it. But the most touching and pitiful tale is of a certain Lady Hoby, one of the family who held the mansion from the time of Edward VI to 1780. She is represented as wandering about in a never-ending purgatory, wringing her hands and trying to cleanse them from indelible inkstains. The story goes that she was condemned thus for her cruelty to her little son, whom, perhaps in mistaken severity, she beat so much for failure to write in his copybooks without blots that the poor child died. It was an age of sternness toward children. We know how Lady Jane Grey suffered, and thought herself “in hell” while with her parents. There were no Froebel schools or Kindergartens then; and it may be the wretched mother was trying to do her duty as she knew it. A curious confirmation of the story was found in the discovery of a number of copybooks behind a shutter during some repairs. The books were of the Tudor period and were deluged in every line with blots!

MARLOW LOCK

Several of the Hobys are buried in the pretty little church, near to which the river laps the very edge of the churchyard. One monument is to two brothers, Sir Philip and Sir Thomas Hoby, and the epitaph on the latter, put up by his sorrowing widow, concludes with the lines:—

Give me, oh God, a husband like unto Thomas,
Or else restore me to my husband Thomas.

Like many another disconsolate widow she married again in a few years, so she had presumably found someone who could rank with Thomas! Leland in his Itinerary mentions the Abbey as “a very pleasant delightsome place as most in England”, and, indeed, so it is, with its grey stone walls, mullioned windows, and high tower rising amid the trees.

Bisham at one time belonged to the Knights Templars, and in 1388 the Earl of Salisbury established here a monastery for Augustinian monks. It was twice surrendered at the dissolution, and the prior, William Barlow, had five daughters, who all married bishops! It seems that the worthy cleric had readily taken advantage of the change which abolished celibacy for the clergy!

Poor Anne of Cleves lived here in retirement, whilst her stepson was on the throne, but she perhaps found the place too quiet after the fierce excitement of being wife to such a monarch as Henry, because it was she who exchanged it with the Hoby family, and went elsewhere. Edward VI seems to have had a liking for sending his relatives here, for he next committed his sister Elizabeth to the care of Sir Thomas, who seems to have treated her well, though she was in fact a prisoner. That she appreciated the beauty of the river scenery is shown by her revisiting the place when she