My favourite map

Stanford's Map of the River Thames

Garry Whannel

Rivers, Maps and Experiences

I have always, at least for as long as I can remember, loved maps. When I cast my mind back for the origins of this passion, three maps in particular come to mind. The first map was a whole atlas of giant maps, a big and heavy Shell Atlas of America, bought by my father in the USA, during the war, when he was in the Navy (that is a whole other story). The second map was an old OS map of Greater London, purchased by my mother in a second-hand bookshop, which was my sheet anchor to the new metropolitan existence we acquired by moving from Lower Kingswood on the North Downs to Putney, in 1958, when I was eight years old (also another story). This article tells the tale of the third map. One of the first maps I owned was Stanford's map of the River Thames. It was memorable for its unusual shape – only eight inches high, but eleven feet long, it rendered the Thames into a long linear object. I pinned it up on my bedroom wall, just above the dado rail. It lined two sides of the room. 

Since childhood, I have moved more than a dozen times, and until this year, I thought I had lost this map - I had not come across it for years. Although I live in a state of total clutter, the consequence of being unable to throw anything away, I do keep my maps in a series of shiny aluminium boxes. I had not looked at these boxes for a long time and as I was going through them searching for American maps in early 2020 I came across the familiar dark blue cover.

My parents lived near to the Thames at Putney between 1958-1970 (I was eight years old in 1958). We could not see the river, but it was less than a mile away, and it had considerable importance I as was growing up. It was ever present and of course, due to the tides, the speed, direction and amount of water flowing, it constantly varied. I walked along the river bank marvelling at the extent and range of river traffic - the working boats - substantial barges towing lighters full of stuff, pleasure steamers, river police launches; and also the sporting ones - sailing dinghies, single scull skiffs (check the language!) rowing shells for the eights. The river frontage at Putney was full of boat houses devoted to the various specialisms of sailing, rowing and canoeing. Towards the end of the paved road, the Sea Scouts had their boat house. Above all, of course, it was where The Boat Race started. (The Boat Race, of course - there could be no other of similar importance, just as the English Cup Final was always just denoted as The Cup Final).

In the mid-1960s, my parents considered moving to a flat, spread over three floors, with a spectacular view of the Thames at Putney Bridge. I thought that if you had a long-term illness and were bedridden, lying in a bed with a view of the busy traffic on the Bridge and under it, would be perfect. I had, maybe, a morbid streak. Rivers, to be crossed, need ferries or bridges, and bridges become focal points for communities, as traffic funnels to fix points on each side of the river. Putney Bridge was set between two churches, the southern one of which was, in the Civil War period, the venue for the famous Putney debates. The bridge linked my own familiar Putney with the more working class, and to my eyes slightly exotic and racy Fulham.

During childhood, I had a Saturday routine - I would walk from our flat on Putney Hill, down to the river over the bridge and into Bishops Park, which nestles next to the river on the Fulham bank, where I would meet friends from school and play football for maybe two hours. Then I would walk back, crossing the river back, and go home for a beans-on-toast lunch. After lunch, if Fulham Football Club were at home, I would walk all the way back, crossing Bishops Park on the way to Craven Cottage. We would stream out of the ground at 4.45pm and, in August, early September, April and May, go back through the park. Between those months, they locked the park at dusk, and a much longer walk, via Fulham Palace Road, was necessary. All in all, my Saturday involved walking 4-5 miles and crossing the river four times. Later, in 1975, I lived for a year near the river at Hammersmith, visiting riverside pubs, and walking the river between Putney and Richmond. The map of the Thames, then, connected for me the small Thames of my own lived experience (essentially between Richmond and central London), with the expanded Thames of imagination - stretching up past Hampton Court and Pangbourne towards Oxford - the Thames of Three Men in a Boat. 

So, the map itself, ironically, excludes the river of my experience, and indeed excludes the river of the Boat Race - too far downstream. I knew best, of course, Putney, which was not even on the map. Downstream, also not on the map, was explored by river boat, admired from the south bank. Even as a child I was always puzzled as to why there were so few cafés, bars and restaurants with a river view in central London. What did I know of the decades of untreated sewage, the "great stink", the construction of the Bazalgette sewers, and the persistence of industrial pollution right up to the 1960s?

Richmond, which I knew as a place to visit, always seemed slightly exotic and slightly bohemian. Kingston and Hampton Court were also explored. Once, we went to Pangbourne for a memorable picnic with my parents and their friends. Beyond that it only existed for me on maps.

As well as the dimensions, the design appealed. It had the same delicious simplicity combined with exactitude that is the outstanding feature of the OS Landranger series. It removed surplus detail, and included only the roads that linked the various villages and small towns that the river ran through, almost as if to suggest that really the river was the only important artery that connected them. It awoke in me a faint hint of an idea that one day I might walk from source to mouth - the Thames Path, established in 1996, revealed that this distance was 186 miles (although of course the exact place when river becomes sea is ambiguous). Now I have re-found the map I may yet be tempted by the walk.

Rivers, Narratives and Mapping

Rivers are all about motion - they keep on rolling. Their timeless qualities prompt patriarchal metaphor - Ole Man River, Old Father Thames. They are often associated with misery and melancholy - Cry me A River. The river can offer an idyllic space away from and different from everyday life, as in Three Men in a Boat[1]or Ratty, introducing Mole to the joys of river life in The Wind in the Willows.[2] Ratty moves Mole from the familiar land (dry, firm, stable) to the unfamiliar water (dynamic, permeable, in constant flux), for the purposeless purpose of “messing about in boats”. Ratty's stretch of fictional river does not really go anywhere, but river fables generally either involve an upstream quest or a downstream one. The upstream journey of Jerome, George and Harris (not to mention the dog, Montmorency) in Three Men in a Boat is joyous, light-hearted and witty. However, journeys upstream can be freighted with peril - they take the voyagers upstream where the river narrows, and the landscape can close in. Going upstream is to penetrate the interior, and to become exposed to its mysteries and dangers, as in Aguirre: Wrath of God (Directed by Werner Herzog, 1972). In Joseph Conrad's The Heart of Darkness,[3] the upstream journey leads to the core of evil. Aguirre and Heart of Darkness in turn were inspirations for Apocalypse Now (Directed by Francis Ford Coppola 1972). Indeed, river journey narratives often involve perils from a range of sources, e.g. The African Queen (directed John Huston, 1951). The quest can often be both heroic and ultimately futile as in Fitzcarraldo (Directed by Werner Herzog, 1982), and The Bridge over the River Kwai (directed by David Lean, 1957).

Downstream journeys might suggest, by contrast, a route to freedom, as the river widens, the valley becomes broader, and the sea beckons. In Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn,[4] Huck and Tom hope to be able to enable the slave Jim to escape to freedom, by taking him downstream on a raft to the junction of two rivers at Cairo, where he will be able to journey back north towards free states. They mission is thwarted when the confluence slips by un-noticed in the fog.

Rivers present challenges for mapping - neither the source nor the mouth are ever simple matters, and in between routes and trajectories are unstable. Even if only in geological scale a river is always messing with the surrounding landscape, eating into parts of it, depositing fresh material at other points. The production of oxbow lakes is an instance.

The source

It is part of the strange magic of a river - the source can be almost invisible, hard to pin down like myths of origin. It often is a matter of dispute, as is the case with The Thames. The Garry River in Scotland begins from a high bowl in the mountains where it is seems to be always dark, brooding and pouring with rain. In Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain,[5]Roger Deakin declares that one day – just like the salmon – the urge came upon him, to seek the source of his river, the source of himself, and he found it in the Dunbeath Water. The river Wye, in the peak district, dries up, and goes underground for stretches, which gives its source a mysterious ill-defined quality

Mouths and estuaries

Then the river gets bigger, wider, deeper, more meandering and slower till it widens into an estuary. Just as there is no clear point of origin, so there is no real end point - when does a river become an estuary and when does an estuary simply merge into the sea? Large rivers generate huge alluvial deposits as they slow broaden and break into numerous sub streams, constantly changing, and producing deltas which, as is the case with the Mississippi, can extend for dozens of miles. The mouth of the Ganges is a particularly huge and complex thing, often denoted on maps as the mouths of the Ganges. In The Hungry Tide,[6] Amitav Ghosh portrays the uncertainties of life in the Sundarbans, the maze of islands on the northeast coast of India, around the mouths of the Ganges (note this is in itself ambiguous as the Ganges itself, is slightly further north, although the Hoogly river, which flows through Calcutta, is a branch off from the Ganges. I note that the Stanford River Thames map eliminates both problematics - origin and end. The river arrives on the map at Lechlade - small but perfectly formed and concludes at Richmond - just as the Thames becomes seriously tidal.

Tides and motion

Then there is the magic of tidal patterns. Consequently, a river cannot accurately be mapped - its width varies during the day and the tidal cycle. Things drift downstream with the tide, but then of course they drift back up. Boats plan their journeys to make use of the tide. The river is ambiguous, always in motion, never quite the same. the rest of the landscape is mostly fairly static. Roads, bridges and buildings are constructed but then remain for dozens, maybe hundreds, of years. The bricks do not move. River water is in constant motion. What is more it can transform the environment around it, by erosion, by deposition, and by flooding. Even where human activity tries to contain it, it can overrun defences, pull down bridges and embankments. It provides mapmakers with a challenge. Over time rivers can change course. Tidal channels shift around the river bed, slow running backwaters silt up. The land is relatively static, water is constantly in motion. The combination of water, tide, and sky, all varying, makes for an ever-changing vista, in which water and sky modify each other. I have never entirely been free of the desire to live with a view of river, or sea - running water in some form or other, and I never feel entirely comfortable in cities a long way inland, (Birmingham, Madrid) especially if they lack a majestic riverscape.

Crossing points

The river is a navigable route but also a barrier to travel. So, crossings are crucial, and often the genesis of a town is that it was where routes converged to take advantage of a ferry or bridge. The earliest known Roman crossings of the Thames were at London Bridge and Staines. Some remains of an old Saxon bridge can be seen at Oxford's Folly Bridge and medieval stone bridges are still in use at Newbridge, Wallingford and Abingdon. Kingston Bridge was the only crossing between London Bridge and Staines the 1700s.

The Stanford Map 

It is only 8.5 inches tall, but a majestic 11 feet long, in 27 panels, with concertina binding. 

A note inside reveals that it was originally prepared under the supervision of Captain O.M Watts (1901-1985). There is no indication of a year of publication in my copy, which, as the price was in the pre decimal 5/6d, is plainly before 1971, and was quite probably the 1961 edition. I have seen a copy with the same cover as mine dated 1961, and another from 1956. There is an edition with a different cover, in 1947, which is also attributed to the supervisory role of Captain Watts.

There also appear to have been editions in the 1930s and 1920s. The earliest I have found evidence of is ascribed to 1871, and is described as "A New Map of the River Thames from Oxford to London, from Entirely New Surveys, Taken During the Summer of 1871: With a Guide, Giving Every Information Required by the Tourist, the Oarsman, and the Angler."[7] If this is a genuine early edition of the Stanford’s map, then of course the original version cannot have been prepared under the supervision of Captain Watts.

Like all classic maps it is a work of omission, simplification and clarification. For the most part, there are only three colours - light blue for the river, and all other waterworks - canals, side streams, tributaries, lakes ponds and reservoirs; mid-brown for the more major road, with all other roads in twin thick black lines; and green for parks, heaths, and commons. The only other colour used is a red, utilised for small charts in each section stating the section of river depicted, the size of locks in that section, the draft of vessels, and the headway of bridges. Notes are added in black or sometimes red to add nautical information regarding the navigation of locks and weirs. Fishing information is also given, for example: "Windsor: Good barbel fishing below Romney Lock". It is a remarkable aesthetic product - thoroughly pleasing in the clarity and neatness of its design, startling in the unusual format.

The map itself has a boundary, but the provision of details of roads and buildings begins to cease even before the boundary is reached, Railways and stations are marked, but where they stray too far from the river, or to the edge of the paper, there is no information as to what they might be linked up to. The detail is limited to a mile or so either side of the river, routes just end, without going to the edge of the paper. There is almost never an attempt to indicate where they are going. When there is such an indication, it is puzzlingly arbitrary, for example "To Twyford Station 1/2 mile." Occasionally roads and railways will bleed off the edge and through the thin border line, but only when the river comes close to the edge of the panel. This is in the tradition of those maps that present a world of its own - nothing of significance lies beyond. It is a characteristic typically seen in theme park maps (see Philips 2012).[8] The map would not aid with any road or rail-based journeys except in the detail of their route when near the river - it is solely focused on providing the route of the Thames from source to Richmond. As such it could be used by walkers, and those travelling in boats whether rowing or motorised.

Although the river bends, the map is linear, and every so often there is a new section, which enables a meandering river to be fitted into the linear format. There are six such sections: Richmond to Staines; Staines to Windsor; Windsor to Marlow. Marlow to Reading; Reading to Oxford; and Oxford to Lechlade.

Structures and features relevant to boat travel are detailed with meticulous care - boatyards and boat houses, wharfs, weirs, locks, ferries, bridges, tributaries, Metropolitan Water Board works, are marked and named. Amenities near the river - hotels, inns, pubs, cafés - are also marked and named. It is the perfect companion to Three Men in a Boat, with its precise detailing of locks, weirs, pubs, hotels and inns. Indeed, one wonders whether Jerome had a copy - there certainly was an edition in 1871. He does not, as far as I can recall, mention it. It represents a cosy and comfortable home counties England of little villages and small towns. Parks and greens abound. There are golf courses and racecourses. It reduces the Thames to a set of riverside communities. It is pastoral, and suggestive of an arcadia in which all elements are harmonious.

So, what does it omit? The biggest and most obvious omission is the absence of the capital city. London, synonymous in most peoples' minds with the Thames, is missing - the journey downstream ends at Richmond. Industry - although the history of the Thames is bound up with the discharge of waste products, human animal and general agricultural and particularly industrial - toxic chemicals added to the untreated sewage. But there is little trace of this on the map, and indeed a substantial portion of the industrial pollution was generated downstream of Richmond. Land ownership despite the presence of substantial tracts of land that were or are in the hands of a few big landowners - most notably Windsor, there is little trace of this on the map, as the latter does not differentiate in its green patches between public and private space. The erasure of the city, industry and land ownership features combined with of the emphasis on the small scale, the pastoral, and the harmonious, then, it can be seen as a classic instance of the magical recovery of an imagined community

Author

Garry Whannel is an Emeritus Professor at the University of Bedfordshire. He has been writing on popular culture and the media for over forty years. His most recent books are Understanding the Olympics (with John Horne), 2020; The Trojan Horse: the Growth of Commercial Sponsorship (with Deborah Philips), 2013; Culture, Politics and Sport, 2008; and Media Sport Stars, Masculinities, and Moralities, 2002. For 54 of the last 60 years, he has lived no more than 3 miles from the River Thames.

garry.whannel@me.com

References
[1] Jerome, Jerome K. (1889) Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog). Bristol & London, J.W. Arrowsmith & Simpkin, Marshall & Co.

[2] Graham, K. (1908) The Wind in the Willows. London, Methuen. 

[3] Conrad, J. (1983) Heart of Darkness. Harmondsworth, Penguin Classics.

[4][4] Twain, M. (1994) The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. London & New York, Penguin Books.

[5] Deakin, R. (1999) Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain. London, Chatto & Windus.

[6] Ghosh, A. (2006) The Hungry Tide. London, Harper-Collins.

[7] Taunt, H. (1873). A new map of The River Thames from Oxford to London, from entirely new surveys, taken during the Summer of 1871, with a guide, giving every information required by the Tourist, the Oarsman and the Angler. 

[8] Philips, D. (2012) Fairground Attractions: A Genealogy of the Pleasure Ground. London, Bloomsbury.