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:--
[Illustration: THE WHITE CONDUIT.]
"_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.
[Illustration: STONE IN THE WHITE CONDUIT.
_Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. lxxi. p. 1161, A.D. 1801.]
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.
[Illustration: THE WHITE CONDUIT.]
"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."
[Illustration: WHITE CONDUIT GARDENS (INTERIOR).]
[Illustration: WHITE CONDUIT GARDENS (EXTERIOR).]
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.
[Footnote 21: Cart. Antiq. in Off. Augm. vol. ii. No. 43.]
[Footnote 22: Pat. 36 Henry VIII. p. 13, m. 31.]
[Footnote 23: See next page.]
[Footnote 24: In an early sixteenth century book (unique)
printed by Wynkyn de Worde, called "Cocke Lorelles Boke" the
dairy farming at Islington is mentioned--
"Also mathewe to the drawer of London, And sybly sole
mylke-wyfe of Islington."]
[Footnote 25: These Rolls were as famous as Chelsea Buns.
"White Conduit loaves" being a familiar street cry.]
[Footnote 26: This revivalist used these initials as meaning
"Sinner Saved."]
[Footnote 27: A somewhat famous singer in the latter part of
the eighteenth and first quarter of the nineteenth centuries.
She sang and acted at Drury Lane and the Haymarket--and also
sang at Vauxhall. She became poor, and on July 5, 1824, she
had a benefit at Drury Lane, which, with a public
subscription, produced about £800. Lord Egremont also allowed
her £80 a year. She was somewhat related to Royalty: her
husband, Bland, an actor at Drury Lane, being the brother of
Mrs. Jordan, who was the wife of William the Fourth.]
[Footnote 28: A frequent visitor at these gardens was the late
George Cruikshank, and many subjects were transferred to his
sketch book. He was so well known, as to become a sort of
terror to the habitués of the place, and children were
threatened, when fractious, "that if they made such ugly
faces, Mr. Cruikshank would put them in his book."]
[Illustration]