In the late twelfth century (the time of the chronicler FitzStephen), water drawn from the City’s rivers, or from springs or wells, was pure and clean and sweet and wholesome.
Later, though, “the tide from the sea prevailed to such a degree that the water of the Thames was salt; so much so that many folks complained of the ale tasting like salt” (and obviously they couldn’t have that).
And, by the beginning of the thirteenth century, the supply had become so contaminated by waste as to be not only unpalatable but unsafe to drink, for fear of contracting a potentially lethal water-borne disease such as such as Bloody Flux (Dysentery).
So, a supply had to be brought in from outside. A (lead!) pipeline was built, by public subscription, in 1236, to bring water from a spring at Tyburn, roughly opposite where Bond Street tube station now stands, to the so-called Little Conduit, Standard and Great Conduit on Cheapside, about three miles away (sections have recently been discovered 2m below Medieval street level in Paternoster Row and in Poultry). Most people collected water from the conduits themselves, although some had it delivered to them – in buckets suspended from shoulder-yokes – by water-carriers or “cobs” (of whom there were 4000 by 1600), and the few that could afford to had a private supply piped directly to their homes or businesses in specially installed so-called “quills”. The pipeline was extended at either end in the fifteenth century so as to run from Oxlese, near where Paddington station now stands, to Cornhill, about six miles away. The so-called Devil’s Conduit under Queen’s Square probably dates to around the same time, a photograph taken in 1910, shortly before its demolition in 1911-3, showing it to contain graffiti from 1411. And the Aldermanbury Conduit under Aldermanbury Square dates to 1471.
By the sixteenth century, the system had become inadequate to meet the demands of the rising population (it had also become subject to much abuse and over-use by individuals and by commercial and industrial concerns).
A short-term solution to this problem was provided by the construction by the Dutchman Pieter Maritz in 1582 of a – rather rickety – apparatus under one of the arches of London Bridge that allowed water to be pumped from the Thames into the heart of the City, or, in the case of the original demonstration to City officials, over the spire of the church of St Magnus the Martyr! The apparatus was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, but thereafter replaced by Maritz’s grandson, and continued in use, after a fashion, until the early nineteenth century.
A longer-term solution was provided by the construction by the Welshman and wealthy merchant, goldsmith, banker and Member of Parliament Sir Hugh Myddelton in 1609-13 of a 10’ wide and 4’ deep canal, or “New River”, all the way from springs at Amwell and Chadwell in Hertfordshire into the City, an incredible 37 miles away, which is still in use to this day (parts of it can be seen along the “New River” walk in Islington, for example in Canonbury Grove). Myddelton had to overcome any number of technological obstacles, and much land-owner and political opposition, to see this major civil engineering project through to completion, doing so with a mixture of drive and determination, the financial support of 29 investors or “adventurers”, and the tacit backing of the king. His financial backers had to wait some time until they profited from the enterprise (actually, until 1633, although by 1695 the New River Company ranked behind only the East India Company and Bank of England in terms of its capital value). The public health benefits of Myddelton’s project were immediate, though, and immeasurable, and indeed it has been described as “An immortal work – since men cannot more nearly imitate the Deity than in bestowing health”.
Myddelton died in 1631, and was buried in the church of St Matthew Friday Street, where he had served as a warden. Concerted attempts to locate his coffin and monument following the church’s demolition in 1886 were unfortunately ultimately unsuccessful.
Fittingly, though, there is a statue to the great man on Islington Green in Islington.
And some of the fittings from the New River Company’s offices, including Grinling Gibbons’s (?) “Oak Room”, may still be seen in the London Metropolitan Water Board building, also in Islington.
It was on this day, September 29th, in 1613, that Hugh Myddelton’s older brother Thomas, a member of the Grocers’ Company, became Lord Mayor of London, and officially opened his “New River”. The playwright, poet and writer of pageants Thomas Middleton (no relation) wrote in The manner of His Lordships entertainment … at that most famous and admired worke of the running streame from Amwell head, into the cesterne neere Islington … :
“Long have we laboured, long cherished and prayed
For this great work’s perfection, and by th’aid
Of heaven and good men’s wishes ‘tis at length
Happily conquered by cost, art and strength.
And after five years’ dear expense in days,
Travail, and pains, besides the infinite ways
Of malice, envy, false suggestions,
Able to daunt the spirits of mighty ones
In wealth and courage, this, a work so rare,
Only by one man’s industry, cost and care
Is brought to blest effect … ”.