Old London Bridge, a romance of the sixteenth century. Illustrated by A. Ashley

Front matter

LONDON, J.-_D.A_DAf_L_NG I BISHOPSGATE STECEET OLD LONDON BRIDGE, A toiranas tjp liitontlj (totals. BY G. HERBERT RODWELL, ESQ Sllustrat.il BY ALFRED ASHLEY. LONDON: JOHN & DANIEL A. DARLING, BISHOPSGATE STREET. DARLING AND SON, rRINTKRS, J2fi Bishopspate Street, Cornbill. (En ttjp j-H.manf OF PETE1 OF COIBCIUECI, The Priest-Architect, WHO BUILT (Dili smite - Irifrgf, THE FIRST STONE BRIDGE THAT EVER CROSSED THE RIVER OF THAMES, THIS WORK IS DEDICATE-., BY THK AUTHOR, G. HERBERT BODWELL PETER OF COLECHURCH. Of this priest architect whose name must still be revered as the builder ofthe first stone bridge that ever crossed the river Thames, but little is known. 'It appears according to the account given by that learned an tiquary, Thompson, in his Chronicles of London Bridge, page 45, that Peter was " a priest and chaplain of St. Mary Colechurch, an edifice, which, until the great fire of London, stood on the north side of the Poultry, at the south end of a turning denominated Conyhoop Lane, from a poulterer's shop having the sign of three conies hanging over it.

This chapel, of which the skilful Peter was curate, was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, and famous as the place where St. Edmund and St. Thomas a Beckett were presented at the baptismal font." His great work, which has brought his name so honourably down to our own times, was began in 1176. It took thirty-three years to com plete ; but the architect had died in the year 1205, so that he never had the satisfaction of viewing his finished work. His body was buried in the chapel on the Bridge, which chapel was dedicated to St. Thomas a Beckett, and was familiarly called St. Thomas of the Bridge. A more particular account of this famous Bridge will be found in the course of the Romance. In 1737, the chapel on the Bridge was occupied by a Mr. Yaldwin, as a dwelling and warehouse ; and in this year, while repairing the staircase leading to the lower chapel, he discovered the remains of a body, supposed to be those of Peter of Colechurch.

The last arch of Peter's Bridge was not destroyed until the latter end of the year 1832. The present London Bridge was opened to the public, August 1st, 1831. When we regard the miserable state of Westminster Bridge, dying, as we may say, of premature old age, for it has stood only about a hun dred years, our admiration of Peter's gigantic effort, is surprisingly increased ; for, notwithstanding the imperfect knowledge of civil en gineering in his day, he yet constructed an edifice, which was not only regarded as one of the wonders of the world, but which stood the unceasing attacks of nearly a million of raging floods, during six entire centuries. The powerfully-destructive rush of waters may be easily conceived, when it is remembered that the river itself was no less than nine hundred feet wide, yet, at every rising and falling of the tide, it had to find its course through a water-way of only one hundred and ninety -four feet, caused by the thickness of the stone piers, and the piles, or sterlings, driven round them to prevent their foundations from being washed away.

Chapter I

, MAT -DAY, 1536. At my beginning, first I you beseech, Have me excused of my rude speech : I learned never rhetoric certain ; Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain : I slept never on the mount of Parnaso, Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero ; My spirit feeleth not of such matte"re : But if you wot, my tale shall ye hear. Chaucer. OLD LONDON BRIDGE, exactly three hundred and twelve years ago this very day, for, be it remembered, that our first page sees the light upon the May-day of this present year, exhibited a scene of excitement, which had perchance scarcely ever been surpassed, since David de Lindsaye, Earl of Crawford, a Scottish Knight, in 1390, overthrew the Lord John de Welles, of England, in a joust, upon this selfsame Bridge of London. They had met to uphold the honour of their'respective countries, and so chivalrously did the noble David bear himself upon that proud day for Scotland, that when, upon the third encounter, the Lord de Welles lay prostrate before his valorous foe, instead of vantage taking, and striking his dagger into the throat of the vanquished lord, he threw him self in kind embrace upon the neck of the wounded knight, exclaiming — " Live, Sir Knight !

I fought without anger, and but for glory of my native land." Ere we proceed into the deep mazes of our truthful tale, it were as well, since OLD LONDON BRIDGE is to become the very heart of our romance, just to give the gentle reader some idea of its appearance about the middle of the sixteenth century, as it then stood, the " Pride of our Proud City, and Wonder of the World." This high-sounding title was, at the time we speak of, richly deserved, and was not infrequently used in olden times, particularly by foreigners, who, having visited our metropolis to barter their Milan steel for our strong English bows, or bring our Kings some young and beauteous princess as a bride, would write (the few who could write) to their friends in the most distant quarters of the then known globe, extolling as " this world's wonder," our famous London Bridge.

Old London Bridge, our Old London Bridge, was begun as long ago B as 1176, ana aster thirty-three years of labour, was finished in 1209. Peter of Colechurch, the Priest-architect, who built it, although often blamed in our day for his lack of engineering knowledge, must have laid his foundations pretty sure, for the arches he then raised were the same that, not twenty years ago, were pulled down upon the completion of the present structure, having lasted no less than 622 years, in spite of the ceaseless torrent of the mighty Thames. There were originally twenty arches, or rather spaces, between the piers, for one was covered, not by an arch, but by a drawbridge, to allow of ships passing to the more western part of the city. Upon the upper platform, or roadway, which was forty feet wide, there stood two towers, one on either side of the eighteenth arch, close to the Southwark end ; and in the centre of the bridge a beautiful chapel was erected, which chapel was dedicated to St. Thomas a Becket, and thence called — " St. Thomas of the Bridge."

Now, as the English, who, ever since they have borne that name, have been— and Heaven grant they may long remain so, for it speaks of industry, peace, and wealth — a " nation of shopkeepers," soon discovered that such a thoroughfare as the bridge must inevitably become, might easily be transformed into a mine of wealth, so, almost immediately upon its completion, did they begin to build shops thereon. These shops, or rather sheds — for at first they were but little more — day by day increased in value, then in numbers, and ere long took the more dignified form and name of houses, for the traders then, unlike those of the present day, knew full well, that The bee who will thrive, Lives in his hive. It was not thought impossible, by these right worthy progenitors of our present greatness, but that, a haberdasher, a glover, a lantern maker, or a chandler, could exist, and be respected too, without having a country house at Brixton, or spending twice as much as his business brought in, just to uphold his bankrupt show of unsubstantial respectability.

These sheds, therefore, soon had the addition of a sleeping room behind them ; and, in consequence of the narrowness of the bridge, which, as we have said, was only forty feet wide, these extra rooms were made to overhang the sides of the bridge, in many instances to an awful and truly dangerous extent. The traffic of the bridge, and consequently the trade, increasing rapidly, more commodious buildings arose ; many of them reaching to four and even five stories in height. To hold together the two sides of the Bridge Street, for such it had now become, and such it was now called, many of the grander buildings extended entirely across, thus binding together, and keeping the overhanging dwellings from falling outwards into the river. Beneath these last-noticed stupendous structures was a wide and lofty archway, under which the main road passed.

This road was twenty feet wide in most parts, but in others it was reduced to the very narrow limits of four yards. When the reader recalls to mind the style of architecture so greatly admired in those days, and pictures to himself the houses with every story projecting some feet beyond the one beneath, he will easily con ceive the proximity of the upper windows on the two sides of this narrow way ; indeed, in some cases they almost touched, rendering the street beneath dark, dingy, close, and unwholesome. To obviate, as far as possible, this drawback to health and comfort, three wide openings were left unbuilt upon, from which a splendid view might be obtained both up and down the river ; these openings acted, also, as safeguards to foot passengers, who could here find protection when the road was inconveni ently thronged with carts and carriages.

The greatest of these three openings was that of the drawbridge, and was fifty feet wide, forming an admirable standing place upon days of aquatic pageants for those merry-making citizens who ever loved to see such sights, but who lacked the advantage of being acquainted with the wealthy traders of the bridge, and thus be enabled to get a peep at the show more commodiously from the windows of the houses. Another method of tying, as it were, the opposite sides of the street together, was by enormous wooden beams extending from roof to roof, and also by transverse narrow bridges . from most of these swung evercreaking signs of most fanciful device. Here floated in the breeze " The Lock of Hair," — there " The Three Bibles ;" — here the tempting " Sugar Loaf," and there " The Lamb and Breeches."

But as we shall, in all probability, have to converse with some of the owners of these pictorial show-cards, we will for the present pass them by. Of the exterior appearance of Old London Bridge we need say but little, the illustration to this, our first part, giving a far more vivid idea of its general effect, than could possibly be conveyed in words. Yet, picturesque as all representations of this unrivalled structure undoubtedly are, yet there is one point which adds so greatly to the picturesque, in which every attempt ofthe limner cannot but fail — we mean the impossibility of conveying a just idea of the rapid motion of the angry flood, and that deafening roar, that ceaseless noise of falling waters. Every passage between the piers was so reduced by the great thickness of the piers themselves, and by the various rows of piles driven around them for their protection, and called the " Sterlings," that at certain hours of the tide this river of eight hundred feet in width had to force itself through narrow ways that, in all, did not amount to one quarter of that space ; so that, at times, the flood was no less than six feet higher on the one side of the bridge than on the other, forming a fearful cataract beneath every arch, leading to certain death the miserable wretch who was drawn within its resistless power.

The view we have given is of the east side, as seen when coming up the river from Greenwich, and displays one half of the hundred houses then upon the bridge. The reader will now be enabled, to a certain extent, to picture to his imagination the appearance the street of the Bridge displayed upon the afternoon of May-day, 1 536, when not a shop door was to be seen without its little knot of gossips, laying their heads together in a vain endeavour to solve the mystery of that strange sight they had just witnessed. Every b2 window that would open (for in those days most of the windows, unless in the houses of the great, were fixtures, much to the encouragement of plagues and other fatal diseases) was occupied by two or three, or more heads, piled one above the other, nodding and shaking, and looking more wise than those wise heads had ever looked before ; but these were kept in good countenance, by the opposite windows being in like manner adorned with heads, nodding and shaking, and with equal wisdom too.

From the upper windows, apprentice boys, who had not been allowed to go a maying, seemed to be hanging out to dry, so far did their bodies reach down, in endeavouring to get within earshot of the wondrous conjectures uttered by those beneath. Around one of the doors stood a rather larger crowd than the others — and over their heads swung a tremendous sign — called " The Bag of Wool, and the Golden Fleece ;" this sign had evidently not been painted by the great Hans Holbien, who dwelt hard by, but by some limner, who, to convey an idea of the happiness derivable from a golden fleece, had adopted a most extraordinary method of doing so, for he had painted a most wretched, melancholy, cadaverous looking sheep, dancing about on its hind legs, and which appeared to be wofully afflicted with the yellow jaundice, for, in truth, it was one unshaded mass of yellow ochre.

This was no doubt intended to represent gold ; but how the large square piece of, what seemed to be, stone, with four great iron knobs at the corners, looking as rigid and hard as either of those substances, could by any stretch of the imagination be mistaken for the soft and pliant bag of wool, it is beyond our power to divine. This effort of genius proved one thing — that in those days there were no George Morelands going about painting signs for a few nights' lodgings, that in after times would fetch their weight in gold. Over the shop to which this sign belonged, was written, in large well-formed letters — " William Hewet, Clothworker and Merchant." " Well," said John Catchemayde, the bowyer from next door — " What does honest neighbour Hewet say ? I'll wager the best bow in my shop, and may the curse of Robin Hood light upon every yew twig I take in hand, if I don't make good my wage, but that if Master Hewet — now mark me, friends, I say, that if Master Hewet do but open his mouth, and speak his mind aloud, we shall hear something."

This did not appear to be a very hazardous wager, but Catchemayde looked around, at those who listened to him, with that peculiar expression of countenance, half bullying, half fearing, which men at times put on when they have a misgiving of having gone a little too far, and tremble for the consequences ; but a knowing twitch of the head, and a slight wink from all the bystanders, as much as to say, " Old birds are not caught with chaff," soon relieved him of his doubt; and Dick Checklocke, the smith, after a rather long and appropriate oath, observed — " No, no, friend Catchemayde, you don't catch us — we know Master Hewet as well as you do ; and well we know that what Master Hewet does say — he does say ; and what Master Hewet doesn't say — he doesn't ! An't I right, neighbours ? — to be sure I am."

Then in accordance with the fashion of the time, he sent forth another long oath, something about the " Beard of Saint Vulcan," or, he added, " by that, or any other saint that had ever been a blacksmith — he'd take Master Hewet's word, ay, that he would, even before that of his own father confessor." Such a wicked assertion made every one in the crowd shudder to the very back bone, which Checklocke observing, he crossed himself devoutly in a most extravagant manner, and set his lips off at full gallop, but uttered no sound, so that he appeared to be making faces at all who looked at him. At the conclusion of his inward confession, he called aloud upon " the eleven thousand virgins of Cologne, and Saint Ursula to boot, to bear witness that he meant no harm." " But I repeat it," chimed in John Catchemayde.

" Yes, I repeat it, what does Master Hewet say ?" The person thus called upon, was regarded as the very oracle of London Bridge. One of the greatest proofs of the profound wisdom of Master Hewet might be found in the fact of this honest clothworker never having once got himself into trouble with the state, notwithstanding his reputed wealth. He was a tall handsome man of middle age, with a countenance whose expression bespoke more of sedateness and steadiness of thought, than of aught approaching to brilliancy of imagination. His doublet and sleeves were of fine brown broadcloth, as were also his upper and nether stocks, or, in modern phraseology, his smallclothes and his stockings, which, being sewn together above the knee, appeared almost as one. But the portion of his dress, which at once bespoke him a man of substance, was his black cloak being well furred with martens' skins — the gold chain, too, which hung around his neck, also betokened one of no mean wealth ; for martens' fur, and ornaments of gold, such as chains or bracelets, or collars, could be worn by none but such as enjoyed a good clear income of at least two hundred marks a year.

A pouch, somewhat after the fashion of a lady's reticule of our day, hung by a double silver chain from his girdle, answering all the purposes osa pocket. A square low cap adorned his head, and enormously broad-toed shoes were on his feet. His handsome visage was close shaven, all but the chin, from which a neatly-trimmed beard was permitted to grow. A small flat white shirt collar, turned down about the neck, and a short dagger at his side, completed the appearance of honest Master Hewet. Those by whom he was addressed (this being a holiday; were habited somewhat in like style ; but their clothes were made of coarser materials, and no gold, nor silver, nor even a gilt button, was to be seen upon their jerkins or their cloaks ; and even the fur they wore, was merely that of the lamb. The different kinds of fur then in wear, formed very distinctive marks as to tne various grades of society.

Master Hewet, who, up to this time had been paying much more attention to the piles of velvets and satins, and cloths of gold, and of silver, and damasks, which had but recently arrived from Italy, than he did to the gossiping babble of his inquiring neighbours, now finding himself hard pressed, raised his eyes from off the tablet, upon which he had been setting down memoranda concerning the treasures which then lay around him, and looking steadily for an instant into the faces of Catchemayde, Checklocke, and the others, who all stood before the open shop front, with mouths almost as wide open, quite ready to devour every word he should utter— he heaved a sigh — then shaking his head, again commenced writing upon the tablet. The bye-standers closed their mouths slowly as they began to look at each other in evident consternation, and one of them burst out with — " Quite enough, quite enough !

Let but Master Hewet shake his head, and we all know what that means." " Ay, ay ; more trouble, more trouble, my masters !" bawled out Catchemayde; " and only to think of it happening upon May -day too, when we all wanted to be so happy and merry." " As for myself," said Checklocke, " I'll have a dance on Mary Overie.' green to-day, though they should make me dance upon nothing to-morrow. They may hang me if they like — I dare say it's not so bad when one's used to it ; and_ by St. Thomas of the Bridge, we are pretty used to it now-o'-days." " And shall be more so yet ! ho, ho ! ha, ha ! he, he !" the last " he, he !" sounding almost like a whistle, as it was screeched out by an ugly cripple, whose voice made all who heard it start suddenly aside, leaving him in an open space exactly before the shop of the Golden Fleece.

This cripple was a young man, but whose head was nevertheless nearly bald ; nature had from the first denied fertility to the soil upon which the hair should have grown, and thus the head of age seemed by mistake to have been fixed upon the neck of youth. The few hairs which were found there were perfectly white, but so stubborn in their nature that they stuck up on end, like so many needles in a cushion; his scanty moustaches grew in a most remarkable manner from the two extremities of the upper lip, the centre of which being entirely bare, gave them the effect of a couple of overgrown hairy moles ; habit had so long been digging deep lines in every portion of his face, by an un ceasing nervous grin, that even the placid spirit of sleep could not for a moment fill them up again. He wore the badge of servitude upon his left arm, and that badge bespoke him a servant of the bridge ; his crip pled leg made it necessary to walk, or hobble, by the assistance of a long staff, which, notwithstanding his lameness, he was known full oft to use, and that to good purpose too, upon the heads of those who dared offend him.

How often do we find that where Nature, appearing to have been out of temper when moulding into form some luckless lump of human clay, and in her spite has sent forth a thing to show what power she has even to disgust as well as charm, that in these sad examples Pity has staid her hand before the unsightly work was ushered to the world, and, as in Pandora's box, we ever find relenting nature has left at least one little spark of Hope, the mind to claim command — the poet's turn of thought — the music of the tongue — or some such charm shines forth so brilliantly, that our sense becomes dazzled, our eyes are blinded to the rough mounting, we only see the sparkling gem within. Thus it was with the Cripple of the Bridge : his form was crooked, his arms had been cast in two odd moulds, his eyes were set so deeply in his head, that they ever seemed to be searching the inward man, to find those lost beauties of which the exterior stood so much in need.

It was strange that one, whose laugh and sound of speech resembled more the peacock's screech, or howlet's cry, than that of human breath, should, if he sang, possess a voice of heavenly sweetness : but so it was ; let him but sing, and all his deformities, even all his spite, and he carried within his mind a heavy load of it, were, by the power of that spell, forgotten. " Yes, ye dainty pets of mother nature !" he exclaimed, " ye straight limbed fools, who, because ye can walk upright through the world, believe your souls as upright as your bodies, ye shall be more and more used to hanging, and burning too, or I know not the inward spirit of your master — your master ! hear ye that ? that master whom Heaven, as we are told, hath placed over you ; yes, Heaven, however your wicked fancies may make you think his devoted love of flames should indicate a different paternity :" and again his chuckling screech came forth, as though he thought he had uttered a witticism almost too pun gent to be endured : then continuing — " And there, too, stands hand some Master Hewet, whose beauty alone is quite enough to keep him warm, and counteract all earthly troubles.

Who, with such a form as that, could ever once look sad? How different to mine ! But we shall see — we shall — ha, ha ! ho, ho ! he, he ! I shall boil his head yet ! — I shall boil his head yet ! And mark me, brother Hewet — " and as he addressed the merchant, his w hole countenance changed ; the grin was there, for that never left his features, but it was now the grin of utter malevolence, as he went on — " Yes, brother Hewet, I shall boil your head yet ! and, by the blue sky above us, I swear that when I do, I'll drink, and fatten on the broth — ha, ha ! ho, ho ! he, he ! — I'll fatten on the broth." Saying this, the cripple began to move away ; but still, as he went, he continued to mutter, " Yes, yes ; I shall boil his head yet — I shall boil his head yet !" " Well," said Catchemayde, but not until the cripple was quite out of hearing, " Master Hewet must be a sweeter-minded man tlxan I am, to bear the insolence of such a cripple ; had he addressed me thus, I would have brained the villain."

" Like enough, like enough," said Checklocke, " that is, if his hands had been tied, and his staff in your own ; but you know, as well as most of us, that Willy of the Bridge-gate Tower is no trifling playmate when one comes to handy-cuffs." " You would cease to be angry," said Master Hewet, now placing his tablet in the pouch by his side, "as I have long since been, and would feel as much pity for that poor afflicted soul as I do, were you but as well acquainted with his story as I am." "What story?" exclaimed every voice at once, now forgetting all their previous anxiety caused by the strange circumstance which had just occurred at the opening ofthe chapter, showing how easily the attention of a crowd may be diverted by a mere chance word, or even the pointing of a finger, from its most cherished pursuit.

Checklocke's bravado concerning his not caring about being hanged, was allowed to sink into oblivion, and every man became a child ; for " men are but children of a larger growth ;" then arranging themselves in true childish manner before the window of Master Hewet's shop, they became all ears. " It is now some years since," began the honest merchant, " when — " "Eh! what's that," exclaimed Harry Silkworm, the stringer. "Egad, they're coming at last. Huzza ! huzza ! They're coming, they're com ing at last !" Every eye and every ear was now suddenly turned towards the northern end of the bridge, whence arose a loud murmuring, and ever and anon, amidst distant shouts, the sweeter sounds of music. The crowd thought no more of Master Hewet, nor of the Cripple's tale, but hurried off, shouting and laughing like mad, to meet the coming throng.

The cavalcade and vast procession announced by the distant sounds which had so suddenly put a stop to the, no doubt, interesting history ot the Cripple, was that of the anxiously-awaited Maypole for St. Mary Overies' Green. It had been expected many hours before, but in consequence of the great rains which had lately fallen, the roads, if roads they could be called, were in such wretched state, that at times great fears were enter tained whether or not the Maypole would arrive until it had become a pole of some other month. Great interest had been exerted in the highest quarters, even with the King, to obtain a reversal of the cruel sentence which had doomed to exile the greatest pride ofthe City, the lofty Maypole, that had formerly every year reared its proud head upon Cornhill, but which had not been used for now some eighteen years ; no, never since the unlucky " Evil May-day" of 1517.

So great a riot had then occurred, that the future raising of this mighty shaft was by command prohibited. It was of such gigantic proportions, that it far o'ertopped the steeple of the neigh bouring church, and caused that church henceforth to be denominated St. Andrew Undershaft. Now, although the fate of that poor Maypole could not be reversed, yet permission had been obtained to raise another on the green of St. Mary Overies, a lovely spot, not far removed from the southern end of Old London Bridge. Great indeed had been the preparations for bringing in from Highgate the envied shaft ; and great indeed had been the heart-burnings engen dered between the " Lads of Southwark'' and " The city boys." The good folk of the Bridge cared little which side got the day ; they were a kind of go-between, a sort of peace-maker, or, rather, peace-keeper, for if high words on either side of the Thames appeared to be but the prologue to hard blows, they at once raised their drawbridge, and thus kept the hot bloods apart until a little cooled, and rendered capable of flowinc calmly in the channels of discretion.