CHAPTER XIII.

SOME CHAT BY THE WAY.

GREAT Marlow is a market-town, a borough sending two members to Parliament, and contains above six thousand inhabitants. Its principal street, which is a very broad one, slopes up from the river, and is crossed at the top by another long street, giving the town somewhat the shape of a capital T. From these streets several smaller ones branch out. About the look of the town there is nothing remarkable. It has a good many shops, but they are mostly small and of a common-place kind. It has several inns, and one a very tolerable one. It has some large houses, but none that I remember of a very noticeable order. The handsome suspension bridge was erected in 1835, and is a great ornament to the river. The church stands at the foot of the bridge, and was built about the same time. It is of the style fitly named "modern Gothic," and is, with infinite good nature, greatly admired by the inhabitants,-who do not, however, so much admire the tax laid upon them for bridge and church, which together they complain of as a serious affair, and pressing hardly upon their not very flourishing trade. I know of hardly anything connected with the history of the town that deserves repetition and as little about its present

appearance and circumstances, which are just those of an every-day sort of second-rate agricultural town. There is an annual cattle-fair, at which there is generally a great show of horses, and usually some of large size and excellent form are exhibited. To the cattle-fair succeeds a pleasure-fair, at which, beside the usual shows and sports, there is generally a great variety of goods and housekeeping stores almost enough to remind one of the times when even abbots and lords used to purchase their household matters at these annual fairs. The pleasure-fair seems a dull one. The countrymen hereabout are not of a mirthful cast, and their liveliness is of a very laborious character.

Marlow has not produced many celebrated men; and has few associations of a rememberable kind connected with it. One, however, must not be unmentioned. Shelley dwelt here for awhile, and whilst here wrote his remarkable poem of the 'Revolt of Islam ;' to which, in the late edition of his poems, Mrs. Shelley has appended a note stating the circumstances connected with his residence in this place, which should be read by all who think harshly of him, as well as by his admirers:

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During the year 1817, we were established at Marlow, in Buckinghamshire. Shelley's choice of abode was fixed chiefly by this town being at no great distance from London, and its neighbourhood to the Thames. The poem was written in his boat, as it floated under the beech-groves of Bisham, or during wanderings in the neighbouring country, which is distinguished for beauty." But from the pleasure he derived from the beauty of the scenery he found a great drawback. The

*

town was surrounded by the mansions of the wealthy, but was itself inhabited by a miserably poor population, and whose ordinary poverty was then aggravated by the circumstances of the times. "The changes produced by peace following a long war, and a bad harvest, brought with them the most heart-rending evils to the poor. Shelley afforded what alleviation he could. In the winter, while bringing out his poem, he had a severe attack of ophthalmia, caught while visiting the poor cottages. I mention these things,-for this minute and active sympathy with his fellow-creatures gives a thousand-fold interest to his speculations, and stamps with reality his pleadings for the human race. And it is for these reasons that I quote this passage. Shelley was a man of lofty aspirations and of true genius, and strongly averse as I feel to the tenour of many of his speculations, I cannot but reverence the noble philanthropy of the man, and his earnest sincerity of purpose, as well as admire the splendour of his genius. Remembering too his youth, and the exasperating circumstances of his life, brought on though they were generally by his own reckless defiance of other men's opinions, and his angry attacks on what they held most sacred, and remembering also the growing sobriety of his views, one cannot but believe that had he lived longer, and further observation and reflection had shed their mellowing influence over

*It is said that he was so moved by the sickness he saw about him, that he actually studied medicine, and walked the London hospitals, in order to fit himself to alleviate the misery by his personal attendance; but I do not see that Mrs. Shelley mentions it: it was, however, quite in accordance with his general unselfish benevolence.

his genius, he would have altered many of his sentiments as well as have added much to them.

I am afraid that Marlow has still a very poor population. The houses about the meaner streets have a wretched poverty-stricken aspect, and there are more evident signs of vice forcing themselves on the attention than is at all common in countrytowns of the same size and class. And the complaints of the inhabitants accord fully with the general appearance.

Quitting Marlow, we pass by Mile End, where are large paper-mills, by which the weir makes a fine waterfall; we then reach Marlow Moor and race-ground. Looking down the river, the high Cookham downs and Quarry Woods present a beautifully diversified prospect, and the woods and high grounds of Buckinghamshire are little less beautiful. The Buckingham hills, however, gradually recede from the river, and the bank is flat; on the Berkshire side the hills accompany us some way farther, the river making a considerable curve round the foot of Cookham Hill. On the top of this hill, or Cookham Heath, we have a delightful breezy walk, and one pleasant enough to excite a wish to be on that side of the river.

There is no place to notice now for some distance along the banks. Westhope House and grounds are passed, and presently Little Marlow, which is noticeable as the place where was a Benedictine nunnery, and where is an ancient church; after which, till we reach Hedsor, we meet with neither village nor hamlet, and hardly with a house-only with a succession of sweet bits of river scenery. There is nothing here to describe, nor any stories

to tell-for no battles have been fought, nor great men dwelt here. We will, therefore, as we have four or five miles to walk, have a little chat by the way about some of the things that are among the most observable in the upper and middle course of the river, but which have been passed without notice, or with only a word. We have nearly completed the first stage of our ramble, and another opportunity may not occur. They are only small matters, however, but they are small matters that belong to the Thames, and that ought to be noticed.

Of all the things that are seen on the Thames, or beside it, none add more to its beauty or are more characteristic of it than the aits, as the little islands, or rather islets, are called, with which it is studded through the greater part of its upper and middle course. These are extremely numerous, occurring everywhere, sometimes singly and far apart, and sometimes in clusters; and they are almost as various and beautiful as they are numerous. Not many of them are of any great size, and only two or three have dwellings upon them; excepting such as are used for locks, when it is not uncommon for the lock-keeper's house to be built on the ait : but several have toy-houses-taking the form or name of temple, or grotto, or summer-house, according to the taste of the proprietor. Some of them are planted with groups of good-sized trees, such as ash and abeles, and others that will thrive in damp soils; but the alder and willow are the most common, and perhaps are most suitable for the situation. The smaller aits are generally planted with osiers. As these aits occur in the shallows, they are frequently surrounded by beds