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CHAPTER V

AS the Fleet was "the River of Wells" it may be as well to notice the Wells, which, although not absolutely contributing towards swelling its volume, are yet closely adjacent – namely, White Conduit, and Sadlers Wells. Both of these, as indeed were all the other Wells about London, were first known as mineral springs, a fact which drew the middle classes to seek relief from real, or fancied, ailments, by drinking the medicinal waters, as at Bath, Epsom, Cheltenham, Harrogate, Brixton, and elsewhere. Wherever people congregate, the mere drinking of salutary water, is but tame work, and the animal spirits of some of them must find an outlet in amusements, which materially assist, to say the least, in the agreeable passing of time. But the mere drinking of waters must have been irksome – even if people took to it as well as Shadwell in his play of "Epsom Wells" describes: —

 
"Brisket. I vow it is a pleasurable Morning: the Waters taste so finely after being fudled last Night. Neighbour Fribbler here's a Pint to you.
"Fribbler. I'll pledge you, Mrs. Brisket; I have drunk eight already.
"Mrs. Brisket. How do the Waters agree with your Ladyship?
"Mrs. Woodly. Oh, Sovereignly: how many Cups have you arrived to?
"Mrs. Brisket. Truly Six, and they pass so kindly."
 

By degrees these medicinal waters, or Spas, as they were termed in later times, fell into desuetude, possibly because medical knowledge was advancing; and the Wells, with their gardens attached, became places of outdoor recreation, where the sober citizen could smoke his pipe, and have his beer, or cider, whilst his wife, and her gossips, indulged in tittle tattle over their Tea – which, although much dearer than at present, was a very popular beverage, and so, from health resorts, they imperceptibly merged into the modern Tea Garden – which, in its turn, has become nearly extinct, as have the Ranelagh and Vauxhall of a former age; which, however, we have seen, in our time, somewhat resuscitated in the outdoor portion of the several Exhibitions which have taken place, in the few past years, at South Kensington.

The White Conduit had a history of its own, which we can trace back, at all events, to the fifteenth century, for it was built as a reservoir to supply what was, afterwards, the Charterhouse.

This we can see by a royal licence, dated December 2, 9 Henry VI. an. 1431,²¹ which granted to John Feryby, and his wife Margery, that they might grant and assign to the Prior and Convent of the House of the Salutation of the Blessed Mary of the Carthusian Order, by London, a certain well spring (fontein) and 53 perches of land in length, and 12 feet in breadth, in the vill of Iseldon (Islington) to have to them and their successors for ever, and to the same Prior and Convent, to take the said land, and construct a certain subterraneous aqueduct from the aforesaid well spring, through the aforesaid land, and through the King's highway aforesaid, and elsewhere, as it may seem best &c., non obstante the Act against mortmain (Teste Humfride Duce Gloucestr' Custode Angliæ apud Westm.).

As we know, Henry VIII. put an end to the Monastic Orders in England, and, at the dissolution of the Priory, the reversion of the site, and house thereof, was granted, on April 14, 1545, ²² to Sir Roger North, in fee, together with "all that the Head and original Well Spring of one Channel or Aqueduct situate and being in a certain field in the parish of Islington" – and it also gave, all the channels, aqueducts, and watercourses under ground "up to the site of the said House of the Carthusians."

But, although the spring might, and did, supply the Charter House, yet it is possible that the Conduit House, from which it got the name of White Conduit, from its being built of white stone – was built by Thomas Sutton, who founded the Hospital of the Charter House, – in 1611. It was either built by him, or repaired in 1641, for, incorporated in the building, was a stone containing his arms – and initials. ²³

The other initials have not been identified. As the "White Conduit" it was known well into this century, but it fell somewhat into decay, about 1812 – was never repaired, and, finally, was pulled down in 1831 – to make way for the completion of some new buildings in Barnsbury Road, as a continuation of Penton Street: and the stone was broken up, and used in making the New Road.

So much for the Conduit itself; but it, although inert, exercised a large share in the amusements of Londoners down to a comparatively recent period. It was pleasantly situated in the fields, and, until this century, during the latter half of which, the modern Babylon has become one huge mass of bricks and mortar, it served as a pleasant place of recreation for the Cits. There was an uninterrupted prospect of Hampstead and Highgate – which bounded the northern view, and which was purely pastoral, with the exception of sparsely-dotted farmhouses. There is a tradition that, on the site of the comparatively modern White Conduit House, was (in the reign of Charles I.), a tavern in the course of erection, and that, being finished, the workmen were carousing at the very moment of the monarch's decapitation.

Doubtless, in these suburban fields, there was, for very many years, a place for refreshment, which probably took the form, in the Arcadian age of the seventeenth and eighteenth century, of new milk, curds and whey, and syllabubs, for Islington was famous for its dairy produce, ²⁴ as we know by the account of the entertainment given to Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle in 1575 by the Earl of Leicester, when the Squier Minstrel of Middlesex made a long speech in praise of Islington, whose motto was said to be, "Lactis Caseus infans."

The earliest really authentic notice of the White Conduit House, I can find, is in the Daily Advertiser August 10, 1754. "This is to acquaint the public, that, at the White Conduit House, the proprietor, for the better accommodation of the gentlemen and ladies, has completed a long walk, with a handsome circular Fish-pond, a number of shady, pleasant arbours inclosed with a fence 7 feet high to prevent being the least incommoded from the people in the fields. Hot loaves, ²⁵ and butter every day, milk directly from the Cows; coffee and tea, and all manners of liquors in the greatest perfection: also a handsome Long Room, from whence is the most Copious prospects and airy situation of any now in vogue. I humbly hope the continuance of my friends' favours, as I make it my chief study to have the best accommodations, and am, Gentlemen and Ladies, your obliged humble servant, Robert Bartholomew. Note. My Cows eat no grains, neither any adulteration in the Milk or Cream. Bats and Balls for Cricket, and a convenient field to play in."

This gives us a very fair insight into the sober relaxations of our great-great-grandfathers: and that the White Conduit House was, about this time, a resort for harmless recreation; and, certainly, it would rejoice the modern temperance enthusiasts to find that the principal beverages there drank were "non-intoxicants." Oliver Goldsmith used frequently to go there, walking from his house at Islington; and, in his "Citizen of the World," letter 122, he writes, "After having surveyed the Curiosities of this fair and beautiful town, I proceeded forward, leaving a fair stone building on my right; here the inhabitants of London often assemble to celebrate a feast of hot rolls and butter. Seeing such numbers, each with their little tables before them, employed on this occasion, must no doubt be a very amusing sight to the looker-on, but still more so to those who perform in the Solemnity."

And the same story of simplicity of amusement, and refreshment, is amusingly told in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1760, vol. xxx. p. 242, in a short poem by William Woty, the author of the "Shrubs of Parnassus, consisting of a variety of poetical essays, moral and comic, by I. Copywell, of Lincoln's Inn, Esq. 1760."

 
"And to White Conduit House
We will go, will go, will go."
Grub Street Register.
 
 
"Wish'd Sunday's come – mirth brightens ev'ry face,
And paints the rose upon the housemaid's cheek
Harriot, or Mol more ruddy. Now the heart
Of prentice resident in ample street,
Or alley, Kennel-wash'd Cheapside, Cornhill
Or Cranborne, thee, for calcuments renown'd,
With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er,
With switch in hand, he to White Conduit house
Hies merry hearted. Human beings here
In couples multitudinous assemble,
Forming the drollest groupe, that ever trod
Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male,
Dog after dog, succeeding – husbands – wives —
Fathers and mothers – brothers – sisters – friends —
And pretty little boys and girls. Around,
Across, along, the garden's shrubby maze,
They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on,
Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch
First vacant bench or chair in long-room plac'd.
Here prig with prig holds conference polite,
And indiscriminate, the gaudy beau,
And sloven mix. Here he, who all the week
Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat
Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain,
And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is
Stout oxen to contend, with gold bound hat,
And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle
Here shews her tasty gown, proud to be thought
The butterfly of fashion: and, forsooth,
Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread
The same unhallow'd floor. 'Tis hurry all,
And ratling cups and saucers. Waiter here,
And waiter there, and waiter here and there,
At once is call'd —Joe – Joe – Joe – Joe – Joe —
Joe on the right – and Joe upon the left,
For ev'ry vocal pipe re-ecchoes Joe.
Alas, poor Joe! Like Francis in the play
He stands confounded, anxious how to please
The many-headed throng. But shou'd I paint
The language, humours, customs of the place,
Together with all curtsy's lowly bows,
And compliments extern, 'twould swell my page
Beyond it's limits due. Suffice it then,
For my prophetic muse to say, 'So long
As fashion rides upon the Wing of time,
While tea and cream, and buttered rolls can please,
While rival beaux, and jealous belles exist,
So long White Conduit house, shall be thy fame.
 

W. W."

Later on in the century, it was still a reputable place of resort. In 1774, there was a painting at one end of the garden, the perspective of which served, artificially, to augment its size; the round fish-pond in the centre of the garden, still existed, and the refreshment-rooms, or boxes, were hung with Flemish and other pictures.

Hone ("Every Day Book," vol. ii. p. 1201, &c.) says, "About 1810, the late celebrated Wm. Huntingdon S.S.²⁶ of Providence Chapel, who lives in a handsome house within sight, was at the expense of clearing the spring for the use of the inhabitants; but, because his pulpit opinions were obnoxious, some of the neighbouring vulgar threw loads of soil upon it in the night, which rendered the water impure, and obstructed its channel, and, finally, ceasing to flow, the public was deprived of the kindness he proposed. The building itself, was in a very perfect state at that time, and ought to have been boarded up after the field it stood in was thrown open. As the new buildings proceeded, it was injured, and defaced, by idle labourers and boys, from mere wantonness, and reduced to a mere ruin. There was a kind of upper floor or hayloft in it, which was frequently a shelter to the houseless wanderer. A few years ago some poor creatures made it a comfortable hostel for the night with a little hay. Early in the morning a passing workman perceived smoke issuing from the crevices, and as he approached, heard loud cries from within. Some mischievous miscreants had set fire to the fodder beneath the sleepers, and, afterwards, fastened the door on the outside: the inmates were scorched by the fire, and probably they would all have been suffocated in a few minutes, if the place had not been broken open.

"The 'White Conduit' at this time (1826) merely stands to those who had the power, and neglected to preserve it.

"To the buildings grown up around, it might have been rendered a neat ornament, by planting a few trees, and enclosing the whole with an iron railing, and have stood as a monument of departed worth.

"'White Conduit House' has ceased to be a recreation in the good sense of the word. Its present denomination is the 'Minor Vauxhall,' and its chief attraction during the passing summer has been Mrs. Bland.²⁷ She has still powers, and, if their exercise here, has been a stay and support to this sweet melodist, so far the establishment may be deemed respectable. It is a ground for balloon flying and skittle playing, and just maintains itself above the very lowest, so as to be one of the most doubtful places of public resort. Recollections of it some years ago are more in its favour. Its tea gardens then, in summer afternoons, were well accustomed by tradesmen and their families; they are now comparatively deserted, and, instead, there is, at night, a starveling show of odd company and coloured lamps, a mock orchestra, with mock singing, dancing in a room which decent persons would prefer to withdraw their young folks from, if they entered, and fireworks 'as usual,' which, to say the truth, are, usually, very good."

As time went on, the place did not improve, as we may see by the New Monthly Magazine for 1833, in an article – part of "Four Views of London." Speaking of the White Conduit – "Here too is that Paradise of apprentice boys, White Cundick Couse, as it is cacophoniously pronounced by its visitors, which has done much to expel the decencies of the district. Thirty years ago this place was better frequented – that is, there was a larger number of respectable adults – fathers and mothers, with their children, and a smaller moiety of shop lads, and such like Sunday bucks, who were awed into decency by their elders. The manners, perhaps, are much upon a par with what they were. The ballroom gentlemen then went through country dances with their hats on, and their coats off: – hats are now taken off, but coats are still unfashionable on these gala nights. The belles of that day wore long trains to their gowns: it was a favourite mode of introduction to a lady there, to tread on it, and then, apologizing handsomely, acquaintance was begun, and soon ripened into an invitation to tea, and the hot loaves for which these gardens were once celebrated. Being now a popular haunt, those who hang on the rear of the march of human nature, the suttlers, camp followers, and plunderers, know that where large numbers of men and boys are in pursuit of pleasure, there is a sprinkling of the number to whom vice and debauchery are ever welcome: they have, therefore, supplied what these wanted; and Pentonville may now hold up its head, and boast of its depravities before any part of London."²⁸

It got more and more disreputable, until it was pulled down in 1849, and the present White Conduit Tavern was built upon a portion of its site.

CHAPTER VI

SADLER'S WELLS does not really feed the Fleet River, but I notice the spring, for the same reason that I noticed the White Conduit.

A very fair account of its early history is given in a little pamphlet entitled "A True and Exact Account of Sadlers Well: or the New Mineral Waters. Lately found out at Islington: Treating of its nature and Virtues. Together with an Enumeration of the Chiefest Diseases which it is good for, and against which it may be used, and the Manner and Order of Taking of it. Published for publick good by T. G. (Thomas Guidot) Doctor of Physick. Printed for Thomas Malthus at the Sun in the Poultry. 1684."

It begins thus: – "The New Well at Islington is a certain Spring in the middle of a Garden, belonging to the Musick House built by Mr. Sadler, on the North side of the Great Cistern that receives the New River Water near Islington, the Water whereof was, before the Reformation, very much famed for several extraordinary Cures performed thereby, and was, thereupon, accounted sacred, and called Holy Well. The Priests belonging to the Priory of Clarkenwell using to attend there, made the People believe that the virtues of the Waters proceeded from the efficacy of their Prayers. But upon the Reformation the Well was stopt up, upon a supposition that the frequenting it was altogether superstitious, and so, by degrees, it grew out of remembrance, and was wholly lost, until found out, and the Fame of it revived again by the following accident.

"Mr. Sadler being made Surveyor of the High Ways, and having good Gravel in his own Gardens, employed two Men to Dig there, and when they had Dug pretty deep, one of them found his Pickax strike upon some thing that was very hard; whereupon he endeavoured to break it, but could not: whereupon thinking with himself that it might, peradventure, be some Treasure hid there, he uncovered it very carefully, and found it to be a Broad, Flat Stone: which, having loosened, and lifted up, he saw it was supported by four Oaken Posts, and had under it a large Well of Stone Arched over, and curiously carved; and, having viewed it, he called his fellow Labourer to see it likewise, and asked him whether they should fetch Mr. Sadler, and shew it to him? Who, having no kindness for Sadler, said no; he should not know of it, but as they had found it, so they would stop it up again, and take no notice of it; which he that found it consented to at first, but after a little time he found himself (whether out of Curiosity, or some other reason, I shall not determine) strongly inclined to tell Sadler of the Well; which he did, one Sabbath Day in the Evening.

"Sadler, upon this, went down to see the Well, and observing the Curiosity of the Stone Work, that was about it, and fancying within himself that it was a Medicinal Water, formerly had in great esteem, but by some accident or other lost, he took some of it in a Bottle, and carryed it to an Eminent Physician, telling him how the Well was found out, and desiring his Judgment of the Water; who having tasted and tried it, told him it was very strong of a Mineral taste, and advised him to Brew some Beer with it, and carry it to some Persons, to whom he would recommend him; which he did accordingly. And some of those who used to have it of him in Bottles, found so much good by it, that they desired him to bring it in Roundlets."

Sadler's success, for such it was, provoked the envy of others, and one or two satires upon the Wells were produced.

Soon after he opened the Wells, Evelyn visited them, as we read in his invaluable diary. "June 11, 1686. I went to see Middleton's receptacle of water ²⁹ and the New Spa Wells, near Islington." The Spring was still known as Sadler's up to 1697 as we find in advertisements in the Post Boy and Flying Post of June, in that year. But the "Musick House" seems to have passed into other hands, for in 1699 it was called "Miles's Musick House." They seem to have had peculiar entertainments here, judging by an account in Dawk's Protestant Mercury of May 24, 1699. "On Tuesday last a fellow at Sadler's Wells, near Islington, after he had dined heartily on a buttock of beef, for the lucre of five guineas, eat a live cock, feathers, guts, and all, with only a plate of oil and vinegar for sawce, and half a pint of brandy to wash it down, and afterwards proffered to lay five guineas more, that he could do the same again in two hours' time."

That this was a fact is amply borne out by the testimony of Ned Ward, who managed to see most of what was going on in town, and he thus describes the sight in his rough, but vigorous language.

"With much difficulty we crowded upstairs, where we soon got intelligence of the beastly scene in agitation. At last a table was spread with a dirty cloth in the middle of the room, furnished with bread, pepper, oil, and vinegar; but neither knife, plate, fork, or napkin; and when the beholders had conveniently mounted themselves upon one another's shoulders to take a fair view of his Beastlyness's banquet, in comes the lord of the feast, disguised in an Antick's Cap, like a country hangman, attended by a train of Newmarket executioners. When a chair was set, and he had placed himself in sight of the whole assembly, a live Cock was given into the ravenous paws of this ingurgitating monster."

In the same year, in his "Walk to Islington," Ward gives a description of the people who frequented this "Musick House."

 
" – mixed with a vermin trained up for the gallows,
As Bullocks³⁰ and files,³¹ housebreakers and padders.³²
With prize fighters, sweetners,³³ and such sort of traders,
Informers, thief-takers, deer-stealers, and bullies."
 

It seems to have been kept by Francis Forcer, a musician, about 1725, and the scene at the Wells is graphically described in "The New River, a Poem, by William Garbott."

 
"Through Islington then glides my best loved theme
And Miles's garden washes with his stream:
Now F – r's Garden is its proper name,
Though Miles the man was, who first got it fame;
And tho' it's own'd, Miles first did make it known,
F – r improves the same we all must own.
There you may sit under the shady trees,
And drink and smoak, fann'd by a gentle breeze;
Behold the fish, how wantonly they play,
And catch them also, if you please, you may,
Two Noble Swans swim by this garden side,
Of water-fowl the glory and the pride;
Which to the Garden no small beauty are;
Were they but black they would be much more rare:
With ducks so tame that from your hand they'll feed,
And, I believe, for that, they sometimes bleed.
A noble Walk likewise adorns the place,
To which the river adds a greater grace:
There you may sit or walk, do which you please,
Which best you like, and suits most with your ease.
Now to the Show-room let's awhile repair,
To see the active feats performed there.
How the bold Dutchman, on the rope doth bound,
With greater air than others on the ground:
What capers does he cut! how backward leaps!
With Andrew Merry eyeing all his steps:
His comick humours with delight you see,
Pleasing unto the best of company," &c.
 

But a very vivid description of Sadler's Wells is given in "Mackliniana, or Anecdotes of the late Mr. Charles Macklin, Comedian" in the European Magazine for 1801 (vol. xl. p. 16): —

"Being met one night at Sadler's Wells by a friend, who afterwards saw him home, he went into a history of that place, with an accuracy which, though nature generally denies to the recollection of old age in recent events, seems to atone for it in the remembrance of more remote periods.

"Sir, I remember the time when the price of admission here was but threepence, except a few places scuttled off at the sides of the stage at sixpence, and which was usually reserved for people of fashion, who occasionally came to see the fun. Here we smoked, and drank porter and rum and water, as much as we could pay for, and every man had his doxy that liked it, and so forth; and though we had a mixture of very odd company (for I believe it was a good deal the baiting place of thieves and highwaymen) there was little or no rioting. There was a public then, Sir, that kept one another in awe.

"Q. Were the entertainments anything like the present? A. No, no; nothing in the shape of them; some hornpipes and ballad singing, with a kind of pantomimic ballet, and some lofty tumbling – and all this was done by daylight, and there were four or five exhibitions every day.

"Q. How long did these continue at a time? A. Why, Sir, it depended upon circumstances. The proprietors had always a fellow on the outside of the booth, to calculate how many people were collected for a second exhibition, and when he thought there were enough, he came to the back of the upper seats, and cried out, 'Is Hiram Fisteman here?' This was the cant word agreed upon between the parties, to know the state of the people without – upon which they concluded the entertainment with a song, dismissed that audience, and prepared for a second representation.

"Q. Was this in Rozamon's time? A. No, no, Sir; long before – not but old Rozamon improved it a good deal, and, I believe, raised the price generally to sixpence, and in this way got a great deal of money."

Space prevents one going into the merits of the Theatre here, but it may not be out of place if I mention some of the singers, and actors, who have appeared on those boards – Joey Grimaldi, Braham, Miss Shields (afterwards Mrs. Leffler), Edmund Kean, the great traveller Belzoni, Miss Tree, Phelps, of Shakespearian fame, Marston, and others, testify to the talent which has had its home in this theatre. One peculiarity about Sadler's Wells Theatre was the introduction of real water as a scenic effect. It seems to have been first used on Easter Monday, April 2, 1804, in an entertainment called Naumachia. A very large tank was made under the stage, and filled with water from the New River; and in this tank mimic men o' war bombarded Gibraltar, but were repulsed, with loss, by the heroic garrison. Afterwards, it was frequently used for Spectacles, in which water was used as an adjunct.

After this digression let us follow the course of the River Fleet. Leaving St. Chad's Well, and before coming to Bagnigge Wells, there stood in Gray's Inn Road an old public-house called the Pindar of Wakefield, the pounder, or keeper of the pound at that town, the famous George à Green, who gave Robin Hood a notable thrashing, extorting from that bold outlaw this confession —

 
"For this was one of the best pinders
That ever I tryed with sword."
 

This old house was destroyed by a hurricane in November, 1723, when the two daughters of the landlord were killed by the falling walls. It was, however, at once rebuilt, and a public-house, bearing the same sign, exists at 328, Gray's Inn Road – most probably occupying the original site.