during Easter Term, in the sixth of the reign of King Edward II.,--that
is to say 1312,--there were pleadings before the King, at Westminster,
concerning the property of the Master of London Bridge, in certain
Mills on the River Lee in Essex; but as these pleadings refer to an
Inquisition originally made in the time of Edward I., the present will
be the most proper period to describe and translate them. Stow mentions
the circumstance, when speaking of the office of Bridge-Master, in his
‘_Survey_,’ volume ii. page 25, in the following terms. ‘The Keeper of
the Bridge House had, in ancient times, an interest in certain Mills
upon the River Lee, near Stratford; and the Master of St. Thomas of
Acres,’--now Mercers’ Chapel, in Cheapside,--‘had a title to other
mills there. For, as it appears by an old Inquisition, taken in the
time of King Edward the First, there was a _Calcetum_--_i. e._ a chalk
causeway--on the North, near Stratford, which was made by Queen Maud,
through which there were three trenches made for three courses of water
to run, for the use of several mills, partly belonging to the Master
of St. Thomas, and partly to the Bridge Master: over which were three
wooden bridges made by the said Masters. This is manifest by an extract
out of an ancient Inquisition taken at Stratford at Bow, before Roger
Brabanzon and others, in Anno xxxii^o.’--we shall presently find that
this ought to have been xxxi^o.--‘_Regis Edwardi filii Regis Henrici_,
&c.--the purport of which is, that there were three mills made upon
this chalk causeway Northward; one a Fuller’s Mill, and the site of
another mill belonging to the Master of St. Thomas of Acre: and two
other Mills, called Sayen’s Mill, and Spileman’s Mill; the one a Water
Mill, and the other a Fuller’s Mill, both held by the Keeper of London
Bridge. From which mills came three courses of water in three trenches,
made cross the chalk causeway by the said Master and Keeper. Beyond
which trenches were made three wooden bridges in that said causeway by
the said Master and Keeper, which greatly wanted repair.’ Now, Sir, I
have already shewn you that in Easter Term, in 1312, these pleadings of
1302-3 were renewed against the Bridge Keeper, and the Master of St.
Thomas of Acres, by John de Norton, the King’s Attorney General, who
charged them to repair the Bridges, according to the said presentment.
The pleadings of 1312 are recorded on Roll 95; and as the form in which
they are written is full of curious historical matter, I shall give you
a translation of the instrument at length.
“‘Middlesex and Essex. Our Lord Edward, the King’s Father, in the 31st
year of his reign,’--namely, 1302, in which you see, this record,
on authority we cannot doubt, differs from Stow,--‘commanded Roger
de Brabanzon, William de Beresford, Roger de Hegham, and Stephen de
Gravesend, that they should enquire who ought to repair the Bridges
and Chalk Causeway in the King’s Street between Stratford atte Bowe,
and Hamme Stratford; and concerning the deficiencies of support, and
repairs of the same, which, from that Inquisition taken by a jury,
namely, by twelve for the County of Essex, and by twelve others for
the County of Middlesex,’ standeth thus:--‘They said that the Ferry
over the water of Luye, or Lee, at Stratford atte Bowe, was anciently
accustomed to be in that place called Oldeforde, which is one league
distant from the place of both Bridges and the Causeway, that now are
near together; at which Ferry, many crossing over from various places
have been plunged in the water and in danger. And when, afterwards,
such great danger came to be made known to the Lady Matilda, then Queen
of England, Consort of our Lord Henry the First, King of England, she,
moved by her piety, commanded it to be examined how both the Bridges
and the Causeway could be made better, and more convenient, for the
utility and easement of the country, and the passengers over them. The
which was done by the said Queen, who also caused two Bridges to be
built; namely, the Bridge over the water of Lee at the upper end of the
town of Stratford atte Bowe,’--which you remember Stow says, in his
‘_Survey_,’ volume i. page 58, in the margin, and elsewhere, was ‘the
first arched Bridge in England, and gave name to the Town, for that
it was shaped like a Bow:’--‘and another Bridge over another trench
of the same water towards Essex, which is called Channelesbrigge.
And also one Chalk Causeway between the said Bridges, so that all
passengers going over it, may well and securely cross the same. And,
forasmuch as the said Queen desired, that the reparation and support
of the aforesaid Bridges and Chalk Causeway should from that time
be imposed, so, out of her charity, she bought those lands, rents,
meadows, and one water-mill, which is called Wiggemulne, and assigned
and commanded them to be for the repair and support of the Bridges,
and the Chalk Causeway aforesaid. And because she believed that their
repair and support would be better done by religious men, if they were
thenceforward laid upon them, than by secular persons, lest that such
secular persons themselves, or their heirs, should, in the course of
years, be wanting, to preserve them: nor was there then any Religious
House near to the aforesaid Bridges and Chalk Causeway, but the Abbey
of Berkinggs, the Abbey of Stratford not yet being founded; so that the
aforesaid lands, rents, meadows, and mill, with their appurtenances,
were then given to the Abbess of Berkinggs and her house: so that she
and her successors, &c. should for ever sustain and repair the said
Bridges. But afterwards, Gilbert de Mauntfichet founded the Abbey of
Stratford, &c.’--that is to say about 1135,--‘And a certain Abbot
of the same house bought the lands, &c. from the aforesaid Abbess,
because they were near his Abbey, and lying, in situation, commodiously
for his house, that is to say, however, undertaking, for himself and
his successors, &c. the repair of the Bridges, and Chalk Causeway
aforesaid, for the Abbess herself, &c. and farther giving to the same
four marks of silver,’--£2. 3_s._ 4_d._--‘by the Year, &c. And so they
were found, by the same Inquisition,’--cited at the beginning of this
instrument,--‘to be decayed, and who ought to repair the said Bridges
and Chalk Causeway? Upon which Inquisition, our Lord the King caused
his writ to issue, &c.; and upon this precept it is shewn that the
Abbot aforesaid, the Master of the House of the Blessed Thomas of Acre,
and the Keeper of London Bridge, made their appearance to answer why
the Bridges were not repaired, &c. When the Jurors came, therefore,
between the King and the Abbots, they said that the said Abbot was
not held to repair, excepting the Bridge called Channelesbrigge, and
that none of his predecessors have, at any time, repaired the said
Bridges and Chalk Causeway, and that not any of the lands or tenements
held by him have been accustomed to make reparations, or support
them:--therefore the Abbot was dismissed without a day. But another of
the Jurors has found that it is the said Abbess who ought to repair
the Bridges. And at length,’--that is to say in 1315,--‘an agreement
was made between the said Abbot and Abbess, in the presence of the
Earl of Hereford and Essex, and Chancellor of England; also Chief
Justice, Chief Baron, and Escheater of our Lord the King on this side
Trent, and it was enrolled that the said Abbot obliges himself, and
his successors, to repair for ever: for which the said Abbess gives to
the said Abbot two hundred pounds, yet saving to her the annual four
marks.’ See the Pleadings before the King at Westminster, in Easter
Term, 6 Edward II., Roll 95.
“After this very long, though curious document, I have nothing farther
to observe on the connection of the Bridge Master of London, and his
Mill and Bridge on the River Lee, than that, although he at first
traversed, as the Lawyers say, or denied his right to repair them, yet,
in 1315, the original claim was confirmed against his denial, as is
asserted by Stow, in his ‘_Survey_,’ volume ii. page 25.”
“Methinks, Mr. Barnaby Postern,” said I, “that before you entirely
quit the connection of the Lee River and London Bridge, it would not be
irrelevant to speak somewhat of that _Cantiuncula_, that little song,
or, as I may properly call it, that _Lallus_, for it is truly a nurse’s
song, in which they are both united.”
“You say well, Sir,” answered my visitor; “and seeing that I have
already spoken somewhat at length, ‘shall I,’ as Izaak Walton says,
‘have nothing from you, that seem to have both a good memory, and a
cheerful spirit?’ Come, then, my honoured kinsman, do you relate what
hath been written and collected concerning that same _Cantiuncula_; nor
deem that any fragmenta, touching the history of London Bridge, can be
uninteresting; wherefore, doubt not but your narrative will be to me
like that which Adam made to Raphael:--
‘Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men,
Nor tongue ineloquent.--
But thy relation now; for I attend,
Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine.’”
“After the deep reading and extensive knowledge,” returned I, “which
you, Mr. Postern, have displayed in your discourse, it is unfortunate
for me to have to speak upon a subject, where I am no less perplexed
by the paucity of materials, than by my own ignorance of many which
may be in existence. For you must know, my fellow-antiquary, that
searching out the origin and history of a ballad, is like endeavouring
to ascertain the source and flight of December’s snow; since it often
comes we know not whence, is looked upon and noticed for awhile, is
corrupted, or melts away, we know not how, and thus dies unrecorded,
excepting in the oral tradition or memory of some village crones, who
yet discourse of it. However, Sir, to proceed methodically, I will
first give you the words of this very popular song; then the customs
and history connected with it; and, lastly, the musical notation to
which it is most commonly sung.
“One of the most elegant copies of this ballad you will find in the
late Joseph Ritson’s rare and curious volume, entitled, ‘_Gammer
Gurton’s Garland: or the Nursery Parnassus. A choice collection of
pretty Songs, and Verses, for the amusement of all little good children
who can neither read nor run._’ London, 1810. 8vo. Part i., page 4;
where it is called ‘The celebrated song of London Bridge is broken
down;’ and is as follows:
‘LONDON BRIDGE is broken down,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
London Bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady.
How shall we build it up again,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay lady.
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with iron and steel,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay lady.
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Build it up with wood and clay,
With a gay lady.
Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Wood and clay will wash away,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance o’er my Lady Lee;
Huzza! ’twill last for ages long,
With a gay lady.’
“In that treasury of singular fragments, the ‘_Gentleman’s Magazine_,’
for September, 1823, volume xciii., page 232, there is another copy
of this ballad, with some variations, inserted in a Letter, signed M.
Green, in which there are the following stanzas, wanting in Ritson’s,
and coming in immediately after the third verse, ‘Silver and gold will
be stolen away;’ though it must be observed, that the propositions for
building the Bridge with iron and steel, and wood and stone, have, in
this copy also, already been made and objected to.
‘Then we must set a man to watch,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Then we must set a man to watch,
With a gay La-dee.
Suppose the man should fall asleep,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Suppose the man should fall asleep,
With a gay La-dee.
Then we must put a pipe in his mouth,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Then we must put a pipe in his mouth,
With a gay La-dee.
Suppose the pipe should fall and break,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Suppose the pipe should fall and break,
With a gay La-dee.
Then we must set a dog to watch,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Then we must set a dog to watch,
With a gay La-dee.
Suppose the dog should run away,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Suppose the dog should run away,
With a gay La-dee.
Then we must chain him to a post,
Dance o’er my Lady Lea;
Then we must chain him to a post,
With a gay La-dee.’
“I pray you, do not fail to observe in these verses, how singularly and
happily the burthen of the song often falls in with the subject of the
new line: though I am half inclined to think, that the whole ballad
has been formed by many fresh additions, in a long series of years, and
is, perhaps, almost interminable when received in all its different
versions. Mr. Green, in his letter which I last quoted, remarks that,
the stanzas I have repeated to you are ‘the introductory lines of an
old ballad, which, more than seventy years previous, he had heard
plaintively warbled by a lady, who was born in the reign of Charles the
Second, and who lived till nearly that of George the Second.’ Another
Correspondent to the same Magazine, whose contribution, signed D, is
inserted in the same volume, December, page 507, observes, that the
ballad concerning London Bridge formed, in his remembrance, part of a
Christmas Carol, and commenced thus:
‘Dame, get up and bake your pies,
On Christmas day in the morning:’
‘The requisition,’ he continues, ‘goes on to the Dame to prepare for
the feast, and her answer is
‘London Bridge is broken down,
On Christmas day in the morning.’
‘The inference always was, that until the Bridge was rebuilt, some
stop would be put to the Dame’s Christmas operations; but why the
falling of a part of London Bridge should form part of a Christmas
Carol at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I am at a loss to know.’ This connection
has, doubtless, long since been gathered into the ‘wallet which Time
carries at his back, wherein he puts alms for oblivion;’ though we may
remark, that the history and features of the old Bridge of that famous
town had a very close resemblance to that of London; as you may find
upon reading the Rev. John Brand’s ‘_History and Antiquities of the
Town and County of the Town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne_.’ London, 1789.
4to. volume i., pages 31-53. The chief points of resemblance between
these two Bridges, were, that both were founded in the hidden years of
remote antiquity; that in each instance wooden Bridges preceded the
stone ones; that to each was attached a Chapel dedicated to St. Thomas;
that continual dilapidations and Patents for repair characterised
each; that both formed a street of houses, having towers, gates, and
drawbridges; and, finally, that in 1771, a violent flood reduced the
Bridge of Tyne to the same hapless state as erst marked that of London,
when ruinated by the terrible fire of 1757. Such, Mr. Postern, are the
words, and such are the very few historical notices that I am able to
give you, of a song, of which there is, perhaps, not a single dweller
in the Bills of Mortality, who has not heard somewhat; and yet not one
of whom can tell you more concerning it, than that they have heard
it sung ‘many years ago,’ as the gossiping phrase is. If one might
hazard a conjecture concerning it, I should refer its composition to
some very ancient date, when London Bridge lying in ruins, the office
of Bridge Master was vacant; and his power over the River Lee--for it
is doubtless that River which is celebrated in the chorus to this
song,--was for a while at an end. But this, although the words and
melody of the verses be extremely simple, is all uncertain; and thus,
my good Sir, do general traditions float down the stream of Time,
without any fixed date; for none regard them as of value enough to
record, whilst they are yet known in all their primitive truth. Oh! how
many an interesting portion of History has been thus lost! How many
a----”
“I am glad,” interrupted my visitor at this part of my apostrophe, “to
find that I am not the _only_ Antiquary who is apt to be led away from
narrative to rhetoric; and who is sometimes induced to declaim when he
set out to describe. But you were speaking of the melody to this song,
Mr. Barbican; now I would fain hear it, if it live in your memory.”
“Give me a draught of sack,” said I, taking up the tankard, “and you
shall hear it, as well as my feeble voice, now ‘turning again to
childish treble,’ Mr. Postern, hath the skill to chaunt it. But look
for nothing fine, Mr. Barnaby: here are none of Von Weber’s notes; and,
indeed, I know of nothing which so well characterises it, as that fine
description of a popular ballad in _Twelfth Night_:--
‘Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The Spinsters, and the Knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
Do use to chaunt it----’”
“Come, my good Sir,” replied Mr. Postern, “no more words on’t, but
sing, I pray you.”
“Then listen,” answered I, clearing my throat to reach the treble C,
with which the melody commences; “but you must sing a part of it, as it
stands in this paper, Master Barnaby, for it begins with the chorus;
and so here follows the ancient Music to the Song and Dance of London
Bridge is broken down.”
[Music: _Chorus._
Lon-don Bridge is bro-ken down: Dance o’er my La-dy Lea!
Lon-don Bridge is bro-ken down, With a gay La-dee.
_Solo._
How shall we build it up a-gain? Dance o’er my La-dy Lea!
How shall we build it up a-gain? With a gay La-dee.]
“A choice piece of simple melody, indeed,” said Mr. Postern, as I
finished the last strain of the solo, “and, certainly, from its extreme
plainness, not unlikely to be of some considerable antiquity; but you
called it also a dance, Mr. Barbican; pray was it ever adapted to the
feet, as well as to the tongue?”
“You shall hear, Sir,” returned I, “for I learn from a Manuscript
communication, from a Mr. J. Evans, of Bristol, which has been
most kindly placed in my hands by the venerable proprietor of the
‘_Gentleman’s Magazine_,’ and which enclosed the notes of the tune
we have now concluded; that ‘about forty years ago, one moonlight
night, in a street in Bristol, his attention was attracted by a dance
and chorus of boys and girls, to which the words of this ballad gave
measure. The breaking down of the Bridge was announced as the dancers
moved round in a circle, hand in hand; and the question, ‘How shall
we build it up again?’ was chaunted by the leader, whilst the rest
stood still.’ The same correspondent also farther observes, that it is
possible some musical critics may trace in these notes sundry fragments
that have sailed down the stream of Time, beginning with ‘_Nancy
Dawson_,’ and ‘_A frog he would a wooing go_;’ though the Lament of
London Bridge is certainly far, very far, anterior to the latter. I
cannot, however, imagine, that the air of our ballad has more than a
very distant consanguinity with either; for the melody of Nancy Dawson
is generally supposed not to be more than sixty years old, about
which time its heroine flourished; and the metre of that worthless
song is perfectly different, each verse having eight lines instead of
four. Now, when Isaac Bickerstaff produced his Opera of ‘_Love in a
Village_,’ he composed his 14th air, in the last Scene of the first
Act, to that very tune; for there the Housemaid commences the Finale,
and thus it runs:
‘I pray ye, gentles, list to me,
I’m young, and strong, and clean, you see,
I’ll not turn tail to any she,
For work, that’s in the county:
Of all your house the charge I’ll take,
I wash, I scrub, I brew, I bake,
And more can do than here I’ll speak,
Depending on your bounty.’
“Thus, you observe, my good Sir, that the verse has no resemblance at
all; and the only similitude of the music lies in a very few notes
in the second and third bars of the first and fourth lines. The
Adventures of the Frog who went a courting is certainly much more like
the ballad of London Bridge; but, in addition to its variations in the
latter part, it is quite a modern composition, and, therefore, cannot
illustrate the antiquity of that other song, of which it is itself
merely a musical parody.”
“My hearty thanks are due to you, Mr. Geoffrey Barbican,” began Mr.
Postern, as I concluded; “I have to thank you very heartily for the
agreeable manner in which you have contrived to carry on the history of
London Bridge, whilst I have breathed from continuing my duller detail:
and now, let me observe, that having brought you down to the 31st year
of the reign of Edward I., 1302, I shall give you a translation of what
was, perhaps, his last and fullest Charter to London Bridge, in the
form of a Patent of Pontage, or Bridge Tax, granted in 1305, the 34th
year of his sovereignty; which is curious, inasmuch as it enumerates
so many of the articles of commerce in that day. The original is, of
course, in the Tower, in the Patent Rolls for that year, membrane 25,
entitled ‘Pontage for London;’ and the Latin you may see in Hearne’s
‘_Liber Niger_,’ already cited, volume i., page *478: the English, no
very easy matter to discover, is as follows.