I cannot recall ever having taken a sip from a drinking fountain in town. That said…
The first public drinking fountain appeared in Liverpool in 1854, well ahead of Holborn, London, which arrived a few years later to great fanfare courtesy of the splendidly named Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association.
The Temperance Movement once held considerable sway in this country, doing its best to steer lost souls away from public drunkenness and “poisonous” water. It’s little wonder many of these fountains appeared in public parks, while evangelists encouraged their installation in churchyards.
Before long, other towns across Britain followed suit, and Reading was no slouch. This one, built in 1860 from limestone and granite and placed right in the centre of town, is probably not given a second glance now that running water arrives directed into people’s homes.
Yet for its first fifty years, this was the main source of drinking water for many local residents.
What makes this one especially curious is the pair of dog bowls built into its base. For that reason it became known locally as the “Dog Fountain” — likely because dogs ended up using it more often than humans.
The segregation of animal and human was practical enough, though the United States took the idea much further, with separate drinking fountains for black and white Americans, a commonplace sight well into the 1960s.
So why the need for drinking fountains at all? Surely there were enough rivers and brooks around to scoop up a cupful?
Well, with the rapid influx of country folk into towns from the late 1700s onwards, once clear streams became clogged, polluted, and slowly buried beneath expanding streets. Those that remained accessible often carried the murkiest water imaginable.
This all resulted in repeated cholera outbreaks, killing tens of thousands across the land. During one of the worst outbreaks in Soho when 100 died in the space of 48 hours, the workers at the local brewery tended to fare better than most — due in part to them drinking ale instead of water.
The solution? Build a shedload of sewers to flush the toxins away, while installing elaborate fountains to separate fresh water from the foul.
So keep an eye out. You might spot one tucked away in a quiet corner, now serving as a giant flowerpot. And once you’ve noticed, you’ll begin spotting others everywhere.
That’s the fun part of our shared hidden history: it’s all there in front of us, though in our busy lives we often pass straight by.