Richmond Bridge

Stand still for a moment and feel the stone under your hand. The parapet is pale and a little rough, warmed or chilled by whatever the sky is doing. Below you, the Thames slides past with a soft, steady sound, and somewhere a rowing coach calls out through a megaphone. Swans drift under the arches. This is Richmond Bridge, and it has carried people across this bend of the river for nearly two and a half centuries.

Here is the first surprise. This modest, graceful structure is the oldest surviving bridge across the Thames in London. Westminster, London Bridge, Blackfriars... all of them were rebuilt long ago. This one was built in the 1770s and still stands in its original form. It opened to traffic in 1777, and it has stayed in daily use ever since. Buses, cyclists, dog walkers and runners cross it every day, most of them without a second thought.

Before the bridge, there was a ferry. For generations, anyone who wanted to cross between Richmond and the Twickenham side had to wait for a boat. Horses and carts made the crossing slow and awkward. As Richmond grew into a fashionable riverside town, close to royal palaces and country houses, the ferry was no longer enough. Local people pushed for a permanent crossing, and Parliament gave its approval for a bridge in the early 1770s.

The design came from two architects, James Paine and Kenton Couse. Paine was well known for country houses and for several bridges elsewhere in England. What they produced is calm and balanced. Look along the side and count the arches — there are five, rising gently towards the centre. The middle arch is the widest and the highest, so the roadway climbs in a soft hump and then falls again. The effect is simple, but every line is carefully judged.

The bridge is faced in Portland stone, a pale limestone from the south coast of England. It is the same kind of stone that builders used for Saint Paul's Cathedral and many other London landmarks. Over time, rain and river air have softened its colour into creams and greys. Look closely and you will see patches where the stone is cleaner or darker. These are repairs from different periods, and the surface shows its long working life.

Now for the second surprise, and it is a story about money. The bridge was paid for by a tontine. This was an investment scheme in which shareholders received a share of the income, in this case the tolls. When a shareholder died, their share passed to the survivors. So the longer you lived, the more you earned. Records show that the last surviving shareholder died in 1859. After that, the tolls ended, and the bridge became free to cross.

Think about what that meant for the people of Richmond. For more than eighty years, every crossing cost something. Small toll houses once stood at the ends of the bridge, and a keeper collected payment from walkers, riders and carriages. Today there is no trace of those toll gates on the roadway. The freedom you enjoy as you stroll across was, in a sense, bought by the patience of one long-lived investor.

By the twentieth century, the bridge faced a new problem — motor traffic. The roadway was too narrow for cars and buses. In the late 1930s, engineers widened it. But they did something careful. They added the extra width on the upstream side and rebuilt the old stone face in front of it. From the riverbank, the bridge still looks very much as it did in the eighteenth century. Most visitors never guess that half of it is younger.

At the Richmond end, look for a stone obelisk standing near the bridge. This is an old milestone. Its faces carry distances to nearby places, carved in the style of the period. Before maps on phones, a traveller could stop here and see how far there was still to go. It is a small reminder that this crossing was once part of the road network of the whole region, not just a pretty view.

Walk down the steps to the Richmond riverside and turn back to face the bridge. This is the classic view. The five arches frame the water, and on a calm day their reflections close each arch into an almost perfect oval. Behind you rise the terraced buildings of Richmond Riverside, a development from the 1980s by the architect Quinlan Terry. It looks Georgian, but it is modern work in a classical style, designed to sit comfortably beside the old bridge.

The Thames here is still tidal. Twice a day, the water rises and falls. At very high tides, the river can spill over the riverside path and flood the lower road, and cars parked too close sometimes end up standing in water. Locals know to check the tide. Watch the stone at the base of the piers. Dark lines and green growth show how high the river regularly climbs, a quiet record written by the water itself.

This stretch of river has inspired painters for centuries. The view from Richmond Hill, just up the road, is one of the few views in England protected by law. Artists such as J. M. W. Turner painted this landscape of water, trees and meadows. Today you are more likely to see rowers, paddleboarders and pleasure boats passing under the arches. On summer evenings, people sit on the grassy banks with picnics, and the sound of conversation carries across the water.

Before you go, look once more at the curve of the arches and the pale stone in the changing light. Listen to the water moving past the piers, and to the footsteps of people crossing above. This bridge was built for horses and carriages, and it still serves buses and bicycles. As you walk away, along the river or up into the town, glance back. The bridge will still be there, doing the same quiet work it has done since 1777.