Then, close by (still keeping up its title of the River of the Wells)
was Lamb's Conduit, on Snow Hill, which was fed from a little rill
which had its source near where the Foundling Hospital now stands, its
course being perpetuated by the name of Lamb's Conduit Street, where,
according to the "Old English Herbal," watercresses used to flourish.
"It groweth of its own accord in gardens and fields by the way side,
in divers places, and particularly in the next pasture to the Conduit
Head, behind Gray's Inn, that brings water to Mr. Lamb's Conduit in
Holborn."
William Lamb was a citizen of London, and of the Guild of
Cloth-workers, besides which, he was some time Gentleman of the Chapel
to Henry VIII. He benefited his fellow-citizens by restoring a conduit
in 1577, which had been in existence since the fifteenth century; and,
after the Great Fire, the busy Sir Christopher Wren was employed to
design a covering for the spring, which he did, putting a _lamb_ on the
top, with a very short inscription on the front panel, to the effect
that it was "Rebuilt in the year 1677 S^r Tho^s Davis Kn^t L^d Mayor."
It is curious to learn how the suburbs of London have grown within the
memory of living men. Take, for instance, the following, from _Notes
and Queries_ (April, 1857, p. 265), referring to Lamb's Conduit. A
correspondent writes that "About sixty years since, I was travelling
from the West of England in one of the old stage coaches of that
day, and my fellow-travellers were an octogenarian clergyman and his
daughter. In speaking of the then increasing size of London, the old
gentleman said that when he was a boy, and recovering from an attack of
smallpox, he was sent into the country to a row of houses standing on
the west side of the present Lamb's Conduit Street; that all the space
before him was open fields; that a streamlet of water ran under his
window; and he saw a man snipe-shooting, who sprung a snipe near to the
house, and shot it."
It was no small gift of William Lamb to the City, for it cost him
£1,500, which was equivalent to thrice that sum at present, and, to
make it complete, he gave to one hundred and twenty poor women, pails
wherewith to serve and carry water, whereby they earned an honest,
although a somewhat laborious, living. Lamb left many charitable
bequests, and also founded a chapel, by Monkwell Street, now pulled
down. This Conduit existed until about 1755, when it was demolished,
and an obelisk with lamps erected in its place, but, that being found a
nuisance, was, in its turn, soon done away with.
[Illustration: LAMB'S CONDUIT, SNOW HILL.]
Lamb was buried in the Church of St. Faith's, under St. Paul's, and on
a pillar was a brass to his memory, which is so quaint, that I make no
apology for introducing it.
"William Lambe so sometime was my name,
Whiles alive dyd runne my mortall race,
Serving a Prince of most immortall fame,
Henry the Eight, who of his Princely grace
In his Chapell allowed me a place.
By whose favour, from Gentleman to Esquire
I was preferr'd, with worship, for my hire.
With wives three I joyned wedlock band,
Which (all alive) true lovers were to me,
Joane, Alice, and Joane; for so they came to hand,
What needeth prayse regarding their degree?
In wively truth none stedfast more could be.
Who, though on earth, death's force did once dissever,
Heaven, yet, I trust, shall joyn us all together.
O Lambe of God, which sinne didst take away;
And as a Lambe, was offred up for sinne,
Where I (poor Lambe) went from thy flock astray,
Yet thou, good Lord, vouchsafe thy Lambe to winne
Home to thy folde, and holde thy Lambe therein;
That at the day, when Lambes and Goates shall sever,
Of thy choice Lambes, Lambe may be one for ever.
I pray you all, that receive Bread and Pence,
To say the Lord's Prayer before ye go hence."
It is said, also, that the old verses, so well known, were appended to
the brass, or, rather, engraved on his tombstone.
"As I was, so are ye,
As I am, you shall be,
That I had, that I gave,
That I gave, that I have.
Thus I end all my cost,
That I felt, that I lost."
But there is one well must not be lost sight of; for, in its small
way, it was tributary to the Fleet--and that is Clerk's Well, or
Clerkenwell, which gives its name to a large district of London. It was
of old repute, for we see, in Ralph Aggas' Map of London, published
about 1560, a conduit spouting from a wall, into a stone tank or
trough. This is, perhaps, the earliest pictorial delineation of it;
but FitzStephen mentions it under "_fons Clericorum_" so called,
it is said, from the Parish Clerks of London, who chose this place
for a representation of _Miracle Plays_, or scenes from Scripture
realistically rendered, as now survives in the Ober Ammergau Passion
Play. This little Company, which still exists as one of the City
Guilds, has never attained to the dignity of having a livery, but
they have a Hall of their own (in Silver Street, Wood Street, E.C.),
and in their time have done good service in composing the "Bills of
Mortality;" and gruesome pamphlets they were--all skulls, skeletons,
and cross-bones--especially during the great Plague.
These plays were, as I have said, extremely realistic. One, played at
Chester A.D. 1327,[73] represented Adam and Eve, both stark naked, but,
afterwards, they wore fig leaves. The language used in them, would to
our ears be coarse, but it was the language of the time, and, probably,
men and women were no worse than they are now. But, at all events
this Guild, which was incorporated in the 17 Henry III. A.D. 1232,
used occasionally to delight their fellow Citizens with dramatic
representations in the open air (as have lately been revived in the
"Pastoral plays" at Wimbledon) at what was then an accessible, and yet
a rural, suburb of London.
[Illustration]
Hence the name--but the well, alas, is no more--but when I say that,
I mean that it is no longer available to the public. That it does
exist, is well known to the occupier of the house where it formerly
was in use, for the basement has frequently to be pumped dry. The
neighbourhood has been so altered of late years, that its absolute
site was somewhat difficult to fix; yet any one can identify it for
themselves from the accompanying slight sketch of the locality as it
existed over sixty years since. Ray Street (at least this portion of
it) is now termed Farringdon Road, and what with Model lodging-houses,
and underground railways, its physical and geographical arrangement is
decidedly altered.
Early in the last century, in Queen Anne's time, the Spring had ceased
to be a conduit, as shown in Ralph Aggas' Map, but had been turned into
a pump; and this pump even was moved, in 1800, to a more convenient
spot in Ray Street, where it was in existence (which I rather doubt),
according to Pink's History of Clerkenwell in 1865. However, there is
very good evidence of its being, in an engraving dated May 1, 1822, of
the "Clerk's Well"--which shows the pump, and a stone tablet with the
following inscription:
"A.D. 1800.
WILLM. BOUND} CHURCH-
JOSEPH BIRD } WARDEN.
For the better accommodation of the Neighbourhood, this Pump was
removed to the Spot where it now Stands. The Spring by which it is
supplied is situated four Feet eastward, and round it, as History
informs us, the Parish Clerks of London in remote Ages annually
performed sacred Plays. That Custom caused it to be denominated Clerks'
Well, and from which this Parish derives its Name. The Water was
greatly esteemed by the Prior and Brethren of the Order of St. John of
Jerusalem, and the Benedictine Nuns in the Neighbourhood."
In later days, the Fleet, as every other stream on whose banks houses
are built, became a sewer, and "behaved as sich;" so that it was deemed
prudent to cover some portion of it, at all events, and that part
where now is Farringdon Street, was arched over, and made into the
Fleet _Market_. Our ancestors were far more alive to the advantages
of ready cash, and consequent keen competition among dealers, than
we are, although through the medium of Co-operative Stores, &c., we
are beginning to learn the lost lesson, but, at all events, they had
the acumen to know that large centres of supply were cheaper to the
consumer than small, isolated shops, and _the Market_, was the outcome.
It is next to impossible to make a Market--witness in our own times,
the Central Fish Market, and Columbia Market, both of which are not
absolute failures, but, to use a theatrical slang term, _frosts_--and
this was an example.
The Canal, up to Holborn Bridge, was expensive to keep up, and as we
saw, by the quotation from Ned Ward, it was next door to worthless.
Meantime, sewage and silt played their work, as the stream was
neglected, and, becoming a public nuisance, it was arched over,
pursuant to an Act 6 Geo. II. cap. 22, entitled "An Act for filling up
such Part of the Channell of _Bridewell Dock_, and _Fleet Bridge_, as
lies between _Holborn Bridge_ and _Fleet Bridge_, and for converting
the Ground, when filled up, to the use of the City of _London_." The
works were begun in 1734 and was arched over and finished in 1735;
but, as buildings are necessary for a market, it was not opened, as
such, until Sept. 30, 1737. For nearly a century it remained a market
for meat, fish, and vegetables, although, of course, the largest meat
market was Newgate, as being near Smithfield; and for fish,
Billingsgate, which still maintains its pre-eminence But in 1829 it was
pulled down, in order to make a wider street from Holborn to Blackfriars
Bridge; and this part of the Fleet was called, and now is, Farringdon
Street.
[Illustration: FLEET MARKET, FROM HOLBORN BRIDGE.]
The Vegetable Market, for it had come to that only, was swept away, and
a site found for it, nearly opposite the Fleet prison. It is still so
used, but it is not much of a financial help to the City, as it only
brings in an annual income (according to the last return I have been
able to obtain) of between £700 and £800. It was thought that trade
might be encouraged, and revived, if it were worthier housed, so what
is now, the Central Fish Market, was erected; but, before the vendors
of vegetables could enter into possession, a great cry had arisen as to
the supply of fish to London, and the monopoly of Billingsgate, and the
market was given over to the fishmongers. But it is not a success in
a monetary point of view; is a great loss to the City, and, as a fish
market, a very doubtful boon to the public.
The Fleet Prison, which was on the east side of Farringdon Street, will
be noticed in its place; and, as we have seen, the river was arched
over from Holborn to Fleet Bridge, after which it still flowed, an open
sewer, into the Thames.
But, before going farther, we must needs glance at a curious little
bit of Fleet history, which is to be found in "THE SECRET HISTORY of
the RYE HOUSE PLOT, and Monmouth's Rebellion," written by Ford. Lord
Grey who was a party to the plot, addressed it to James the Second,
1685, but it was not printed until 1754. In p. 28 it states, "About
the latter end of Oct. Monmouth s'd to Sir Thos. Armstrong and Lord
Grey, that it was necessary for them to view the passage into the City,
which, accordingly they did, from the lower end of _Fleet-ditch_, next
the river, to the other end of it, by Snow Hill." And again (p. 34):
"Sunday night was pitched upon for the rising in London, as all shops
would be shut. Their men were to be armed at the Duke of Monmouth's
in Hedge Lane, Northumberland House, Bedford House, and four or five
meeting houses in the City.
"The first alarm was designed to be between eleven and twelve at night,
by attacking the train bands at the Royal Exchange, and then possessing
ourselves of Newgate, Ludgate, and Aldersgate. The first two gates
we did not design to defend, unless we were beaten from Fleet Bridge
and Snow Hill, where we intended to receive the first attack of the
King's Guards. At Snow Hill, we intended to make a Barricade, and
plant three or four pieces of Cannon, upon Ship's Carriages; at Fleet
Bridge we designed to use our Cannon upon the carriages, and to make a
breast-work for our musqueteers bridge next us, and to fill the houses
on that side the ditch with men who should fire from the windows, but
the bridge to be clear."
As a matter of fact, there seem to have been two bridges over the
Fleet, crossing it at Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, both side by side,
as at Holborn. Crosby, upon whose collection I have so largely drawn,
says that it is so, from personal observation, one bridge being 24 ft.
6 in., and the other, 24 ft. wide, making in all, a roadway of 48 ft.
6 in. presumably including parapets. From his measurements, the span of
the bridge was 12 ft., and the height of the arch was 11 ft. 6 in., but
he does not say whence he takes his measurement--from the bottom of the
Fleet, or from the river level.
To this measurement hangs a tale, which is best told in Crosby's own
words, from a memo of his in the Guildhall Library:--
"FLEET BRIDGE, _Tuesday_, July 28th, 1840. As I could not depend
upon the admeasurements which, at the beginning of the year,
I had taken in a _hurried manner_, at Fleet Bridges, while
bricklayers were placing in a brick bottom in place of the
original one of alluvial soil, I determined to obtain them the
first opportunity. This evening, therefore, at ten o'clock, I
met Bridgewater, one of the workmen employed in constructing the
New Sewer from Holborn Bridge to Clerkenwell, by appointment,
at the Hoard there, water boots being in readiness. I lighted
my lamps, and, assisted by the watchmen, King and Arion, we
descended the ladder, and got into that branch of the sewer
which joins Wren's bridge, at Holborn. We then walked carefully
till we reached Fleet Bridge. I suspended my Argand lamp on the
Breakwater of the Sewer, and with my Lanthorn light we proceeded
towards the Thames. We got a considerable distance, during
which the channel of the Sewer twice turned to the right, at a
slight angle, the last portion we entered, was barrelled at the
bottom, the middle so full of holes, and the water so deep, as
we approached the Thames, that we thought it prudent to return
to Fleet bridge." (Here they lit up and took measurements). "All
went well till about a quarter to twelve o'clock, when to our
surprise we found the Tide had suddenly come in to the depth of
two feet and a half. No time was to be lost, but I had only one
more admeasurement to make, viz., the width of the north bridge.
I managed this, and we then snatched up the basket, and holding
our Lamps aloft, dashed up the Sewer, which we had to get up one
half before out of danger. The air was close, and made us faint.
However we got safe to Holborn Bridge...."
[Footnote 73: Harl. MSS. 2013.]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]