The New River Head, 2024. Photo Lesley Lawson
Returning to my investigations of the New River, I forgo the walk from Canonbury to its terminus, choosing instead to take the Number 19 bus.
Alighting at Sadler’s Wells, I find Myddelton Passage, a narrow street that leads directly to the New River Head. This was the site of London’s first waterworks and the operational base of the New River Company. It was constructed in 1613 to collect water carried in the New River canal from springs far north in Hertfordshire and deliver it to thirsty Londoners.
The New River flowing past Sadler’s Wells, 19th century engraving.
Welcome Trust Collection
Myddelton Passage has been much in the press recently on account of its historic graffiti. Speculation as to the origins of numbers and codes scratched on the brickwork has included etchings from prisoners of the Napoleonic wars to mindless vandalism. Turns out they were the idle doodlings of bored coppers from the new Met’s G division, on nightshift in what was once a site of brawling and disorder. But I digress…
Photo: Lesley Lawson
In its first iteration, the New River Head was a circular pond from which water flowed downhill to settlements in the city to the south. The Water House next to the pond contained a cistern and from here a system of stopcocks controlled the flow of water to different neighbourhoods for certain hours in the week. The pipes were formed from elm tree trunks, which had a bore of only seven inches, requiring 58 pipes to supply the city below. This unwieldy arrangement was made more difficult by miscreants who bored holes in the pipes along the way to steal water and enjoy a cold shower. In time the elm pipes were replaced by iron, and gravity assisted by the introduction of a watermill in 1709. Later in the century a steam and then coal-fired engine allowed water to be piped further as London expanded.
The New River Head. 1685, etching. Wellcome Collection
The New River Company charged people to connect the pipes to tanks in their homes. Wealthy households signed up, but others protested, and the availability of water became a serious political issue.
It’s worth mentioning that, prior to this water was free from rivers, wells and conduits. The latter were stone structures with public taps, funded by the City Corporation and wealthy philanthropists. For example, in 1577 one William Lambe paid to have several springs connected to a lead pipe that fed a conduit providing water for the poor. People came from surrounding areas with their buckets and tankards to collect and carry water home. It was hard heavy work, and the wealthy paid professional water-bearers to do it for them. The philanthropic Lambe also donated 120 pails to enable poor women to make a living selling the water in the neighbourhood. Sixteen conduits were built across the city and are remembered in street names across London.
1796 etching of the conduit at Bays water.
Wellcome Collection.
Today the New River Head exists as a collection of derelict Grade II listed buildings surrounded by wild buddleia and builders’ rubble. The site has recently been acquired by the Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration, to host archives, galleries and learning spaces devoted to the art of illustration. Although there is no material or logical connection between the Centre and the New River, the new owners have diligently researched its history, and illustrators have applied their skills to recreating London’s watery past. A 3D virtual tour takes you inside the derelict buildings that they plan to restore.
Looking out over the garden at the former London Metropolitan
Waterboard building. Photo:Lesley Lawson
Adjacent to the site is New River House, built in 1920 as the headquarters of the former Metropolitan Water Board. It is now an upmarket apartment block, where one-beds go for upward of £750,000. Lush gardens grow over what was once the New River pond.
The viewing platform off Myddelton Passage is still open to the public where an exhibition by the Quentin Blake Centre provides a brief history of the canal.