Spa-rust tint not universal wish in vaunted aqua

Press, 8 October 1987, Page 13

Spa-rust tint not universal wish in vaunted aqua

You can lead a man to water, but you can’t make him drink.

ROD DEW:

Story and photographs

If you look like something the cat just dragged in, or are suffering from too many repeats of the morning after the night before, a course of “taking the waters” in 'the small Kentish town of Royal Tunbridge Wells might be worth considering. There, for a modest lOp (about 30 cents), you can buy a glass of “rusty” water which is said to restore vitality, among other things. Of course, if you live in New Zealand then you have to throw in a couple of thousand dollars for a return air fare to Britain — which adds up to a rather costly cure. There is no guarantee that it will work either.

You might not even want to drink the water when you see it The orange tint is discouraging, and it tastes rather like rusty water. At least this is what I am told. I am one of those who visited, viewed and departed without taking the waters. A long-standing friend from the neighbouring town of Sevenoaks was my guide on the day I visited the place where the supposedly healing waters bubble out of the ground. “There is no way you will get me to drink that foul liquid,” he confided.

His resistance to the waters was somewhat infectious. I quickly persuaded myself that if a native of the area was reluctant to drink from the spring, there was good cause for caution.

It is difficult, nevertheless, to argue with the countless thousands who through the centuries have claimed cures — some more miraculous than others — as a result of the water's healthgiving properties. The Chalybeate Spring (named after the Chalybeate Spa in Germany) can be found at one end of a rather pleasant, old worlde, tree-shaded shopping area which is known as The Pantiles and is credited with being the birthplace of Royal Tunbridge Wells. The water runs into a shallow basin, leaving behind the same sort Of orange deposit one gets from a constantly dripping tap on a white enamel bath. It is not easy to accept that this is some kind of “wonder water.” Credit for being the first to suspect the medicinal properties of the water goes to Lord Dudley North, who as a young nobleman chanced upon the spring in 1606. Like many of his contemporaries, Lord North was finding difficulty coping with the dally drunkenness that was fashionable at the courts of the Stuarts. His health had deteriorated, and he was persuaded by his physicians to spend some time in the healthy country air of a friend’s

hunting lodge at Eridge. He lasted Just three months in the peaceful isolation of Eridge before becoming bored to distraction. A return to London seemed the only solution, whatever the risk to his health. Lord North had travelled only about five kilometres and was passing through a wood on a hillside when he spotted a spring surrounded by a sort of ocherous deposit Its appearance was enough to discourage the most dehydrated desert traveller, but the third Baron North was an adventurous spirit and the colour of the deposit struck a chord.

In his memory was a vision of the famous Chalybeate Spa in Germany. This, he recalled, had a similar deposit Lord North borrowed a cup from a nearby cottager and drank water from the spring. The taste increased his suspicion that it might contain medical properties. He carried samples back to London, where medical opinion supported his view. The following year, he visited the spring for a prolonged "course of the waters.” His health improved remarkably, and when he returned once again to London he was quick to pass the word about “his wells” to his drink-sodden friends.

Almost overnight, it became fashionable to take the waters at what was to become Tunbridge Wells. , . , (i . Young men with excessive thirsts (for alcohol) were the early visitors, but it soon became evident that women could benefit as well. Henrietta Maria, the Queen of Charles I, was feeling poorly after the birth of the future Charles II in 1630 and decided that a stay at “The Wells,” as the area surrounding the spring had become known, might help. She stayed six weeks, and returned to London "much improved.” In honour of its first distinguished visitor, the growing township became known as "Queen Mary’s Wells.” This didn’t last In 1632, the name of Tunbridge Wells had become

accepted, linking the spring with the nearby town of Tunbridge. The two areas developed separately, and the similar names often caused, and still do, some confusion.

Tonbridge was the original name of a town a few kilometres up the main road to London. This meant a bridge beside a farm. The spelling was changed to Tunbridge in 1610. In more recent times, townspeople elected to change the name back to Tonbridge to reduce confusion with Tunbridge Wells. The Queen’s visit and an increasing number of people claiming miracle cures after taking the waters encouraged the construction of accommodation buildings. In 1638, the bank by the spring was levelled to become the Upper Walk, and a’ double row of elms and limes was planted. Entertainment was provided, and Tunbridge Wells became a fashionable resort for the aristocracy. Trade flourished. Sussex farmers brought produce to be sold on the Lower Walk, and permanent shops were built A flourishing village grew, one with all the social amenities of the day.

The Upper Walk, the Lower Walk, and the area in the immediate vicinity of the spring are now known as The Pantiles, a name owed in part to a former Princess Anne.

The Princess, later to become Queen Anne, was a frequent visitor to the wells. She was particularly welcome because of her generous donations towards Improvements. It was during a visit in 1698 that her son, the Duke of Gloucester, slipped on the unpaved Upper Walk. The. young duke was not badly hurt, but the incident worried the princess. She gave £lOO to have the surface properly paved. Unfortunately, the money was used for other things, and when the princess returned the following year she found that nothing had been done. Bitterly offended, she left the wells and never returned. The residents immediately paved the walks with pantiles at their own expense, but the offended lady was never tempted back. At first, The Pantiles were known as “The Walks,” and then

as “The Parade.” It was not until the 1880 s that the area become known as “Ye Pantyles,” and finally, “The Pantiles” in belated recognition of the tiles laid to appease Princess Anne more than 180 years before. History paints The Pantiles as a place of colour and characters, a reminder of the sinful splendour of a bygone age. There was the “Woman of the Wells,” Bella Causey, who came to the wells in 1725 and established herself as an unofficial dictator and organiser of amusements. Her ' ability to extract money from people for activities she was organising is still talked about,

She was succeeded by "King” Beau Nash, who was the Master of Ceremonies at Tunbridge Wells for 26 years. He was a colourful character who introduced gaming tables to the assembly rooms. Descriptions of his manner of running his amusements leads one to the conclusion that The Pantiles were a forerunner to the modern casino.

In spite of his outward ostentation, Nash was often in debt and trying to find loopholes in legislation designed to supress gambling. For him, it was health without wealth.

Today, there is no gambling. The lodging houses have become permanent residences and the assembly rooms, libraries and coffee houses have become the shops of the Upper Walk. Even the pantiles are different. The original tiles were replaced by more modem paving in 1793. The famous walks, however, are still there, looking much as they did hundreds of years ago. The Chalybeate Spring remains a centre of attraction where visitors and residents can drink the waters. Throughout the summer there are open-air dances, Shakespeaian performances, art exhibitions, and children’s shows. And it seems that there is some substance to claims of medicinal value for the Chalybeate water especially if you are short on iron, manganese and calcium sulphate. An analysis carried out in 1967 discovered that the waters contained ferrous carbonate (25.3 parts per million), manganous carbonate (4.6), calcium sulphate (60.9), magnesium sulphate (13.4), magnesium chloride (7.8), sodium chloride (57.2) and potassium chloride (7.3). What a pity that the water still looks like it has travelled through 10 kilometres of rusty pipe. It’s enough to drive a person to drink.

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