WATER SUPPLY.
This final remark of Fitz-Stephen’s leads me to make a few observations about the water supply of ancient London, which originally was abundant and excellent.
It is probable that in pre-historic times the rising ground upon which the “City” is built was an island, the Thames in those days being much wider and shallower than at present. Even a writer so late as Fitz-Stephen mentions the fact that Moorfields was used for skating, and the derivation of the name “London” which finds most favour with philologists is from the Celtic Llyn-din, which means the Lake fortress.
Many watercourses ran from the north into the Thames, the names of which are still attached to districts or streets in the Metropolitan area. Thus, beginning at the East, one has to mention Langbourn, a watercourse flowing through what is now Langbourne Ward in the City, taking its course from Aldgate along Fenchurch Street, and probably flowing into the Wall Brook, a stream which divided the city into nearly equal halves, and flowed from Moorgate to Dowgate, through the Bank of England and the Poultry, and the name of which still remains in a ward and a street. The river Fleet rose by Highgate Ponds, and meandered through St. Pancras to King’s Cross, where is “Battle Bridge;” thence its course skirted the western side of Clerkenwell, and, flowing at the foot of Saffron Hill, Snow Hill, Holborn Hill, and Ludgate Hill, reached the Thames at Blackfriars.
Farther west was Tybourne, which rose at Hampstead and flowed through what is now the ornamental water in the Regent’s Park. Then becoming locally known as the Marybourne, its name was associated with the village of Marylebone; it then took the circuitous course of what is now Marylebone Lane, crossed Oxford Street opposite the end of Davies Street, crossed Brook Street, which was named from this fact, then flowed at the back of Bond Street to Bruton Street. In Bruton Street is a curious circuitous mews, which marks its course, running to the south-east corner of Berkeley Square, whence the Tybourne struck west, dividing Devonshire House from Lansdowne House, where now there is a sunken passage between the garden walls. Thence it reached Piccadilly at its lowest point, and flowed through the Green Park to Buckingham Palace. Here it divided, and reached the Thames near Vauxhall Bridge to the west, and near Westminster Bridge to the east, a smaller delta formed by the eastward branch forming Thorney Island, associated with the palace of Edward the Confessor and the monks of St. Peter’s Abbey.
The Westbourne also rose at the foot of the Northern Hills, flowed through Kilburn and Bayswater, both suggestive names, through the Serpentine to Knightsbridge, another suggestive name, and so to the Thames at Chelsea Bridge, apparently forming by its course the western boundary of the Grosvenor Estate.
These watercourses have all disappeared, because in this Christian country there is no respect for the purity of pure water. They became so swinishly filthy, that for very shame we have covered them up, and when the time arrives for covering up the Thames, which we are so systematically fouling in the same way, I have no doubt that our engineers will be equal to the task.
It is very interesting to follow the course of these old streams, and it will be found that the explanation of the circuitous course of some streets (such, for example, as Marylebone Lane), is explained by their following the line of a forgotten rivulet. Nothing can give us a better idea of the change which has come over London than to go into the City and search for Walbrook or Langbourne, or to come west and look for the Tybourne at the end of Conduit Street and follow its course thence to Piccadilly. I hope that those who amuse themselves by taking such a walk as I have advised, will ponder well upon how much we have lost by being obliged to cover them, and why we were obliged to cover them, and will take a lesson from these reflections. If he does that his time will not be wasted.
In a district so intersected by pure streams, it was an easy matter to have a well of good water, and throughout London there were many such wells. Good water, in fact, abounded on every side, and it is noteworthy that the Romans have left us no remains of gigantic aqueducts, such as they knew well how to construct; for the very good reason that they were not necessary.
The first public waterworks were the Conduits in Cheapside and Cornhill. Those in Cheapside were supplied by the Tybourne, the water of which was captured near what is now Stratford Place, and conducted to the City in leaden pipes. Lamb’s Conduit was another, the name of which remains. This was at Holborn Bridge (a bridge over the Fleet), and its water came from fields near the Foundling Hospital. There were many other Conduits, and it must be borne in mind that local names ending in well generally indicate the position of a neighbouring water source.
When these watercourses were open London was a very different place. The Lord Mayor kept his pack of hounds in those days, and in Aggas’s map, made in the reign of Elizabeth, one may see the “dogge house” in Finsbury Fields, for the Lord Mayor was Lord of the Manor of Finsbury, and here he had his kennels, and frequently he would go a hunting, and when he made his tour of inspection of the Conduit heads at Tybourne, he took his pack with him and combined business with pleasure. Strype records that in 1562 they hunted a hare here, and having dined at the Suburban Banqueting House in Stratford Place, they started out again after dinner and killed a fox. How much inspection the watercourses received on these occasions is not certain.
The first waterworks in London were those constructed by Master Peter Morrys, a Dutch engineer, in 1582. His plan was to utilise the enormous force with which the Thames rushed through the nineteen narrow arches of old London Bridge, and for this purpose the Corporation granted him a lease of the first arch on the City side for 500 years, at a rental of 10s. a year, and two years later the second arch was given on similar terms. In 1701 a third arch was leased to a grandson of Morrys, and at this time the proprietary rights were sold to Richard Soams, a goldsmith, for £36,000, who converted it into a Company of 300 shares of £500 each. In 1761 a fourth arch of the bridge was given to the Company, and two other arches were closed to give additional force to the water-wheels. The passage of the narrow arches of the bridge was at all times difficult, and the process of shooting London Bridge, with a fall of some five feet through the arch, was not without danger. This blocking of the bridge caused great complaints, but, nevertheless, the Company continued to ask for more, and with success, so that in 1767 the first five arches were occupied with immense water wheels, and two arches on the Surrey side were similarly occupied. We gather that the Company at this time also possessed a “fire-engine.” The last wheels were put up under the advice of Brindley and Smeaton. The wheels were of the undershot variety, and by their power 2,000 gallons of water per minute were raised to a height of 120 feet, through a pipe which passed over the tower of St. Magnus’ Church. These wheels continued in use for 240 years, until 1822, when the Act for rebuilding London Bridge caused their removal. The pumping machinery was of its kind excellent, but the mains were very defective, and there was much loss by leakage, and leakage also caused great damage to the bridge. The chief mains ran in Bishopsgate Street, Cheapside, Aldgate, Fleet Street, and Newgate Street. The fact that the London Bridge Waterworks were in use until 1822 is important, as showing that the Thames water up to that time was not so grossly impure as to preclude the possibility of distributing it for household purposes without filtration. It is not conceivable that such a course could be adopted at the present day. The impurities of Fleet Ditch were due to slop water, and to material negligently thrown into it, and it was probable that only during a sharp shower, when the filth of the streets was washed into it, it reached that state of impurity which Swift has described. Water-carried sewage, as we understand it, was not then in common use, and cesspools were not allowed to empty into the sewers; and Public Authorities were not expected to relieve individuals of responsibility and to undertake duties, the satisfactory accomplishment of which is impossible.
The first of the great water companies was the “New River,” constructed by Sir Hugh Myddleton and opened in 1613. This was a conduit on the old pattern, but on a larger scale, and did not involve the use of pumping machinery. It brought the water of Chadwell spring in Hertfordshire, which is 110 feet above ordinance datum, to the New River head at Clerkenwell, whence it was distributed through the City. Many additional sources of water have been added to the original Chadwell spring, and many powerful pumping engines are now in use by the New River Water Company, which is still the biggest of eight metropolitan companies. The areas supplied by the different water companies may be briefly indicated. The “New River” supplies the northern part of the metropolitan area; the “East London,” which dates from 1669, supplies the north-east; the “Kent,” which dates its early beginnings from 1701, supplies the south-east. The “Southwark and Vauxhall” in its present form dates from 1845, the “Lambeth” from 1785, the “Chelsea” from 1723, the “Grand Junction” from 1811, and the “West Middlesex” from 1806.
These eight companies supply about 140,000,000 gallons of water daily (about one half being from the Thames) to 668,525 houses, by means of 145 engines of 17,145 horse-power, through 4,068 miles of mains, and by the aid of a capital of £13,150,318.
It is difficult for us to appreciate such a quantity as 140,000,000 gallons, but we may grasp it better if we imagine this water put into 1,400,000 water-butts, of 100 gallons each, and each 4 feet high. These butts placed end to end would reach considerably more than 1,000 miles, and that, be it remembered, is a statement of the daily water supply of this city, which is certainly well within the mark.
The great fault in the situation of London was the proximity to it on every side of marshy land. The Thames, as I have stated, was formerly much wider than at present. Certain it is that Moorfields to the north was often flooded; to the immediate east and north-east was marshy ground, stretching into Essex; to the west was the low district of Thorney Island, Chelsea, and Fulham, while on the opposite bank of the Thames was the ground around Southwark and Lambeth, which was little better than a swamp, and remained unbuilt upon, except to a very slight extent, until the end of the last century.
Ague is at present a rare disease in London, although one still occasionally meets with cases which are apparently due to local causes. Formerly it was a very potent cause of death, but the discovery of the use of “Jesuits’ Bark,” as Cinchona was at first called, and the gradual and continuous filling up of the soil, combined with drainage, led to its extinction. Possibly the impregnation of the soil with coal-gas may have helped to this end.