Oatlands Park preserves a not very trustworthy legend. In the grounds
stand a number of magnificent cedars, and one of them bears a notice by
which you are informed that it was one of the first cedars of Lebanon
planted in England and was placed where it stands by Prince Henry of
Otelands. Neither statement quite fits the facts. If Prince Henry of
Oatlands planted the cedar, he must have done so either before the
outbreak of the Civil War in 1642 (in which case he would have been
hardly three years old, for he was born in 1639), or else in the summer
of 1660, the year of the Restoration, and the year in which he died. As
a matter of fact, cedars were hardly known at the time, for John Evelyn
in his _Sylva_, published in 1664, only mentions them as unsatisfactory
seedlings, difficult to grow; and the earliest cedar planted in England
is probably the Enfield cedar, which may have been set in the ground by
Dr. Uvedale, master of the Grammar-School, about that date. There are,
in any case, much finer cedars than the Oatlands Park trees in adjoining
private gardens. Probably all of them were planted by the Earl of
Lincoln or the Duke of Newcastle early in the eighteenth century.
Another of Weybridge's links with royalty is not quite so reputable.
Portmore Park is the name for a large slice of the town which lies near
the river, thickly built over with villas and cut up into new roads.
Once there stood in it Ham House, which with its park was given by James
II to his mistress Catherine Sedley, notorious at least as much for her
wit as her features. She herself, even with the brilliant eyes which
were pretty nearly all she had of good looks, could not understand the
king's infatuation. "It cannot be my beauty," she said; "for he must see
that I have none; and it cannot be my wit; for he has not enough to know
that I have any." Whatever the attraction may have been, he made her
Countess of Dorchester and gave her Ham House, and she very prudently
married David Colyear, first Lord Portmore. The gates of her park
survive her; the house has disappeared.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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