Old London Bridge

Front matter

j 'THE STOMACH GOVERNS THE WORLD' DEFAMED ERRORS.-" Our past becomes the Juightiest Tuacier to our IFUTUBE; looking hack over the Tombs of DEPARTED EBitOKS, wa behold by the side of each the lacs ol a W&E-SIi'G AJJGE&." LoBuLxiroir. AFTER A DATS PLEASURE USB ENO'S "FRUIT SALT" AND ENO'S "VEGETABLE MOTO." " Men langh and riot till the feast is o'er, Then comes the reckoning, and they laugh no more." "Moderation is the silken string run: ling through ths pearl chaia of iii virtues." Bishop Hilt,. DRAWING AS- OVERDRAFT Off THE BANK OP IIFE.— Late honre, faggod, unnatural excitement, breathing impure air, too rich food, alcotiolic drink, gouty, rheumatic, and other blcod poisonE. feverish cold, bilionsness, sick headache, skineruptions, pimpleon the lace, want of appetite, sourness of the stomach, &c.— Use ENO'S -'-FR'GIT SALT " (and ENO'S "VEGETABLE MOTO" as occasion may require).

They are every ■Hjinj,- ou could wish as a simple and afttaral health-anving agent. You cannot overstate their great value in keeping tho blood pure jnd. free from disease. '"ooiinrs bvutts cast ihiis shadows sbsobb." HOW TO AVOID THE INJURIOU3 EFFECTS OF STIMULANTS. THE preset!* system of living— partaking of too rich foodSj as pastry, saccharine and fatty substances, alcoholio drinks and au insufficient amount of exercise — frequently deranges the liver. I would advise s!i bilious people, unless they are careful to koep the liver acting freely, to exoroise great cars iu the use or Alcoholio drinks, avoid sugar, and alwayB dilute largely vith water. .Experience shows that porter, mild ales, port wine, dark sherries, sweet champagne, liqueurs, and brandies aie all v*"*v apt to disagree; while light white wines, and gin or whisky largely diluted wi£h soda-water, wiU befound .ae least objectionable.

ENO'S "FRUIT SALT" and UNO'S "VEGETABLE MOTO" are peculiarly adapted for any constitutional weakness of the liver ; they possess the power of reparation when digestion has been disturbed orlost, and pi ace the invalid on the right track to health. A world of woes is avoided by those who keep and use ENO'S " FBCTT SALT" sad ENO'S "VEGETABLE: MOTO". therefore no family -ould ever be without them. ENO'S "'FRUIT' SALT'* wn 'BRANDY. " ipHEBE were a few attacks of mild dysentery, brought mainry ill-considered devotion to brandy, or X biliousness prodnoed by the same cause. For the latter w - to 6wear by ENO'S 'FRUIT SALT,* Whioh is simply invaluable," —Sa " Cobai Lahds." VoL \. HEADACHE, DISORDERED STOMACH, and NERVOUS DISEASES, SR A GOUTY RHEUMATiC CONDITION OF THE BLOOD, PRODUCING LIVER DISTURBANCE, LIVER INDIGESTION, BILIARY DISTURBANCE, AND PERSISTING INOICESTION, USE E1TCS " VEGETABLE KOTO."— A short trial will prove ENO'S " VEGE"' 'iSLE MOTO" to be of the highest excellence aa a natural, simple, and painless Tonic Aperient, suiu in every way as simple as scud ttipe Fruit j should be kept ready for any emergenoyin headashe and disordered stomach, &o., 4c. WEST INDIES.— To.

Chapter I

Hail bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth and youth, aud warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early son" And welcome t"-<w, and wish thee long. — Uxltok UN the street of the Bridge_OLB LOXDOX BRIDGE— upon I the afternoon of May-day, 1536, not a shop door was to be seen ' without its little knot of gossips, Laying their heads together in a vam endeavour to solve some important mystery ; every window that would open* 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 befa»e • but these were kept in good countenance, by the opposite windows being in like manner adorned with head nodding and shaking, and with equal wisdom too. • In those days most of thc windows, unless in the houses of the great won -ut—es mu'-h to the encouragement of plagues and other fatal diseases.

B OLD IOSDOX BRIDGE. 2 Iron __e upper windows, apprentice boys, who had not been allowe*. to so a-mavinsr. seemed to be hansin? out to dry, so far did their bodies :;:.:.. /:"".. i*r to get within e-aishot of tbe "-.".-"I::".".- ::_ jeetares uttered by* those beneath. Around one of the doors .:: _ ..: .-: laiger crowd than theothers — above their heads swung .. :. :..;." sign — called a TheB_goi 11 o;, and the Golden ..:."'* and over the shop to which this sign belonged, was written, in large well-formed letters — " WILLIAM Hewet, Clots' .nt> Mekchak: " '•' Well," said John Catchemayde. the bowyer from next door — " does honest neighbour Hewet say ? I'll wager the best bow in my shop, and may the curse of Bobin 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 ha mouth, and speak his mind aioud, we shall hear «mm_j_mjt."

This did not appear to be a vere hazardous wager, but Catchemayde looked around at those who listened ta L-n, with that peculiar expression of countenance^ half bullying, half fearing, which men at times put on when thev have a- -. ing of ha too Bar, and tremble far the . but a knowing twitch of the head, and a slight wink from all the byst . as much as to say. ** Old birds are not caught with chaff," sec n .1 him of - tj and I kioeke, the smith, after a rather long and appropriate oath, observed — '* _vo, no, job don"; catch us — we know Master Hewet as well as you do; and weil we know : Haste. Hewet does say — he do - s _nd what Master H; - . - A A: I right, neighbours? — to be sure I am." with the fashion of the time, he sent forth another long oath, * This sign bad e-ri-emly <toi bees paint,- by the great Hans Holbein, who d-ett hard by. but by some limner, who. : in idea of the K»jar-~^; derivsUe tr. r_ .-. ;:'.'..-" :'..;:;. j-..:.'. :7 : '. :. -: -: . x.r: :r .7 :r - :r. :7 ' . : I;:-_ s.\ :;r __.• hai pai'. si -retched, melancholy, cadaverous looking sheep, dancing -boat on its hind legs, and which appeared to be worully __Jicted with the TeOow jam:- dice, for, in troth, it was one unshaded mass of yellow ochre.

This __s no doubt intended to repres- I laigc square piece o£ what seemed te bet I .. peat koa knobs at the corners, looking as rigid and hard as either of those substances, could by any stn . luaginaaoa be mistaken for the soft and pliant bag of wool, it c This eÆort of sauna proTed one thing— that in the; painting signs for a few nig Ms ... ,;, that in _fW times woeid frfrfr their Teigh: in gold ■omething 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 of a 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 thechin, 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 lomewhat 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 cf b 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 Overies' 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 • This scene of excitement 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. shey had met to uphold the honour of their respective countries, and so chivalrousiv cid the noble David bear himself upon that proud day for Scotland, that when, upon the thud encounter, the Lord de "Welles lay prostrate before his valorous foe, instead of vantage taking, and striking his dagger into tlie throat ofthe vanquished lord, he threw himselt m kind embrace upon the neck of the wounded knight exclaiming—" Live, Sir Knight ! 1 fought without anger, and but for glorv os°ruv native land." a j i Since Old London Bridge is to become the very heart of our romance, we will give the 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 tide was, at the time we speak of, richly deserved, and was not unfrequently 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 f.w who could write) to their fi lends 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 as 1176, and after thirty-three years of labour, was finished in 1209. Peter of Colechurch, the priestarchitect, who built it, although olten 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, in 1831, were pulled down upon the completion of the present structure, having lasted no less than 622 years, in spite of the ceaseless torrent of lhe 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 passin" to tie more western part ofthe city. ° Upon the upper platform, or roadway, which was forty feet wide there stood twn towers, one on either side of the eighteenth arch, close to the Southwark end • L] in the centre of the bridge a beautiful chapel was erected, which chnnsl „.„,. j jcated to St. Thomas k Becket, and thence called-" St. Thomas of theBrid/e -^ r,ow, as the EngUsh, who, ever since they have home that name, have been-and 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, 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, soon having 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 yarn's. When the reader recalls to mind the style of architecture 60 greatly admired in those days, and pictures to himself the houses with every story projecting some feet beyond the one beneath, he will easily conceive 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 dra'^ack to health and comfort, three wide openings were left unbuilt upon, from »hich a splendid view might be obtained ooth up and down the river.

These openings acted, also, as safeguards to foot passengers, who could here find protection when the road was inconveniently thronged with carts and carriages. The greatest of these three openings wis that of 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 whole 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 01 hearing, " Master Hewet must be a sweeter-minded man than I am, to the drawbridga, and was filly feet wide, forming an admirable standing-place upon days of aquatic pageants for those merry-making citizens who ever loved to see such sights, and yet lacking the advantage of being acquainted with the wealthy traders of the bridge, who were enabled to get a peep at tbe show more commodiously f, om 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 tranverse narrow bridges : from most of these swun? ever-creaking signs of most fanciful device. Heiv floated in the breeze " The Lo°k of Hail- "— there " The Three Bibles ; "—here the tempting " Sugar Loaf," and there "'The 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 nas» them by. * Of the exterior appearance of Old London Bridge we need say but little the illu* tration, by our artist, of the east side, as seen when coming up from Greenwich and displaying one-half of the hundred houses then upon the bridge givinea 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 vet there is one point, which adds so greatly to the picturesque, in which every attempt of the limner cannot but fail— we mean the impossibility of conveying a iust idea Wt the rap.d motion of the angry flood, and that deafening roar, that ceaseless noise of tailing waters.

Every passage between thr.inrS was so reduced by the great thiaVbear 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 havt. 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 of the 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 ness of the piers themselves, and by tne various row3 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 thc other, forming a fearful cataract beneath eveiy arch, leading to certain death the miserable wretch who was drawrn within its resistless power. On the night of Sunday, July 5th, 1450, Jack Cade being then in Southwark, the city captains, the mayor, aldermen, and commonalty of London, mounted guard upon the Bridge.

" The rebelles," says Hall in his Chronicle, " which neuver soundly slepte, for feare of sodayne chaunces, hearing the Bridge to be kept and manned, ran with great haste to open the passage, where betwene bothe partes was a feree and cruell encounter. Matthew Gough, more experte in martiall feates than the other Cheuetaynes of the Citie, perceiuing the Kentishmen better to stand to their tacklying than his ymagination expected, aduised his company no farther to procede toward Southwarke, till the day appered ; to the entent, that the Citizens hearing where the place of the icoparyde rested, might secure their enemies and releuc their frendes and companions. But this counsail came to smal effect : for the multitude of the rebelles drave the Citizens from the stoulpes," — wooden piles, — at the Bridgc-foote, to the Drawe-bridge, and began to set fyre in diuers houses.

Alas! what sorow it was to behold that miserable chaunce : for some desyringe to eschew the fyre lept on his enemies weapon, and so died : fearfull women, with chyldren in their armes, amased and appalled, lept into the riuer ; other, doubtinge how to saue them self betwene fyre, water, and swourd, were in their houses suffocate and smoldered ; yet the Captayns nothyng regarding these chaunces, fought on this Draw-Bridge all the nyghtevaleauntly ; but in conclusion the rebelles got the Drawe-Bridge and drowned many, and slew John Sutton, Alderman, and Itobert Heysande, a hardy Citizen, with many other, besyde Matthew Gough, a man of greate wit, much experience in feates of cheaualrie, the which in continual warres had valeauntly serued the King, and his father, in the partes beyond the sea.

But it is often sene, that he which many tymes hath vanquyshed his enemies in straungo countreys, and returned again as a conqueror, hath of his owne nation afterward been shamfully murdered and brought to confusion. This hard and sore conflict endured on the Bridge till ix. of the clocke in the mornynge in doubtful chaunce and Fortune's balance : for some time the Londoners were bet back to the stulpcs at Sainct Magnes Corner; and sodaynly agayne the rebelles were repulsed and driuen back to the stulpes in Southwarke, so that both partes beynge fayntr wery, and fatygate, agreed to desist from sight, and to leue battyll till the next day, upon condition that neyther Londor31* should pass into Southwarke, nor tha Kentishmen into London." 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 ol the Cripple, was that of the anxiously-awaited Maypole for St. Mary Overies' Green. It had been expected many hours before, but m consequence of the great rains w*hieh 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.