The Streets of Chester.—Eastgate Street and Royal Hotel.—The Ancient Rows of Chester.—An American’s “notion” of them.—The Architecture of the Rows and Streets.—The High Cross.—The Pentice and Conduit.—The City Bullbait.—St. Peter’s Church.

Let us move slowly through the street,
Filled with an ever shifting train,
Amid the sound of steps that beat
The murmuring walks like autumn rain.—Bryant.

Having adequately “refreshed the inner man,” we will now, like Don Quixote, sally forth into the Street “in search of the picturesque,” and doubtless we shall there find much of a nature to interest and delight us.

The Eastgate, under which we are now passing, marks the termination of the old Watling Street,—the line of which is here taken up by the chief of the four great Streets of the city, as planned and excavated by the soldier colonists of once mighty Rome. We have passed from Foregate into Eastgate Street, ever the via principalis of Chester, and still maintaining that ancient prerogative despite the revolutionary inroads of steam. It is the one great highway for all passengers and conveyances to and from the Station, and as a necessary consequence holds the proud distinction of being, for all business purposes, the main Street of the city.

This arcade on our left is the Royal Hotel Row, and the massive pile of buildings of which it forms a part, and from which it derives its name, is the Royal Hotel. The “Royal” is pre-eminently the chief Hotel of the city; for besides being the most central and commodious, it is at the same time par excellence the first and most fashionable of all our Chester Hotels, and under its present efficient management, is certainly not surpassed by any similar provincial establishment. Its capacious Assembly Room is, with perhaps one exception, the finest room the city can boast, and is consequently in high repute for all literary and musical entertainments. The Royal Hotel enjoys the singular felicity of being in three distinct parishes; thus, in a religious, as well as a commercial point of view, “it stands well!”

Royal Hotel

If you have any curiosity for modern ruins, turn up this passage in front of the Hotel, and see the baneful effects of a chancery suit on what was once a flourishing mart of commerce; and as you look upon that half roofless, tottering fabric, still known as the Manchester Hall, “thank your propitious stars” that you, at least, are free from the trammels of the law.

The street immediately beyond on the left, is Newgate Street, anciently styled Fleshmonger Lane, from its having been at one time the chief place of business of the butchers. Nearly opposite to it, on the right hand, is St. Werburgh Street, which we shall notice by and bye, when we pay our visit to the Cathedral.

And here we are introduced to another unique characteristic of old Chester,—its venerable Rows. To account satisfactorily for the origin of these Rows, is a problem which has troubled far brighter heads than ours; and, indeed, all we know in the present day is, that in reality we know nothing of their earliest history. Some writers, with exuberant fancies, have attributed to the Rows a British foundation: while others, with greater apparent reason, consider them a vestige of the dominion of Rome, and to have been by them erected, conjointly for the purposes of recreation and defence. There are many circumstances which seem to justify this view of the case; particularly that of their resemblance to the porticoes or vestibula spoken of by Plautus and other Latin authors. Further confirmatory of their Roman origin, we may add that there is, or was, a street in old Rome, bearing a close analogy to the Rows of Chester. Taking into account also that a Roman Bath and Lavatory exist to this very hour under one of these Rows, the arguments in favour of their Roman creation are certainly entitled to a fair amount of weight.

If it be difficult to arrive at the early history of these Rows, equally difficult is it to attempt to describe them to a stranger. Distrusting our own powers, we will call in the aid of our friend Albert Smith, who in describing the Rows of what he calls “this marvellous city,” proceeds to say that “the passenger’s footway lies right through the first floor fronts of the houses—which are cleared away altogether, and above the shop, of ordinary normal position, by the road-side; and thus, the back drawing-rooms, or whatever else they may be, are turned into more shops; and great is the puzzle of the stranger as to whether the roadway is down in the cellar, or he is up stairs on the landing, or the house has turned itself out of window; affording a literal proof of that curious state of domestic affairs so often spoken of. And first he fancies the ‘Row’—as it is termed—is like the Quadrant, with the road excavated a floor lower, and shops made under the pavement; and then it reminds him of a Thames-side tavern, with all the shutter wainscots, that divide the large convivial room into so many little philandering ones, drawn away, and the windows knocked out. And finally he arrives at the conclusion that there is nothing else in the world at all like it, except the prints published by the enterprising booksellers who live there. But very convenient is this arrangement for old ladies of weak minds who quail at meeting cattle; and young ladies of extravagant ones who doat on shopping, in spite of the weather. For it raises the first above suspicion even of danger; and shelters the second from being favoured with the visits of the clouds, who cannot here drop in upon them.”Another description from the pen of an American, is still more intelligible. Writing to a friend on the other side of the Atlantic, he says, “The second story of most of the houses is thrown forward, as you have seen it in the old settlers’ houses at home. Sometimes it projects several feet, and is supported by posts in the sidewalk. Soon this becomes a frequent and then a continuous arrangement; the posts are generally of stone, forming an arcade,—and you walk beneath them in the shade. Sometimes, instead of posts, a solid wall supports the house above. You observe, as would be likely in an old city, that the surface is irregular, that we are ascending a slight elevation. Notwithstanding the old structure overhead, and the well-worn flagging under foot, we notice the shop fronts are filled with plate-glass, and with all the brilliancy of the most modern art and taste. Turning, to make the contrast more striking, by looking at the little windows and rude carvings of the houses opposite, we see a banister or handrail separates the side-walk from the carriage way, and are astonished, in stepping out to it, to find the street is some ten feet below us. We are evidently on the second floor of the houses. Finding steps leading down we descend into the street, and discover another tier of shops, on the roofs of which we have been walking.”

And now for our own brief sketch of the Streets and Rows. This house, near by, with the eccentric gable, and grotesquely carved front is the notable establishment of Messrs. Platt and Son, chemists. The shop itself, which is one of the most chaste and elegant in the city, deserves something more than a mere passing notice, and is worthy the careful inspection of every true ‘lover of the beautiful.’ “This shop,” says the Chester Courant, “exhibits one of the most perfect and beautiful examples of the application of architectural and artistic skill and taste to the purposes of business, that we have lately witnessed. It is the joint work of Mr. Penson and Mr. J. Morris, whose combined talents in the constructive and decorative departments, have produced a most successful and elegant illustration of the manner in which the antique character of our domestic architecture can be preserved, with every regard for modern requirements and comforts. The wood-work has been well executed by Mr. Hankey; the floor is paved with fancy tiles from the celebrated manufactory of Messrs. Minton, in Staffordshire; and all the details and fittings of the establishment have been carried out with characteristic taste and propriety. We should hope that the good sense and intelligence, as well as public spirit, displayed by Mr. Platt in this judicious work of restoration, will give an impulse to other improvements in the right direction; while at the same time it excites a regret that alterations have been previously effected, in such utter disregard of the architecture of the Rows, seeing how beautifully their original appearance might have been preserved, to maintain the unique characteristic of the old city.” The hope indulged in this last paragraph has not “wasted its fragrance on the desert air,” as two neighbouring erections sufficiently testify.

Eastgate Row—Platt and Son, Chemists

Next door to Messrs. Platt’s, and half hidden by the shop which obstructs it just in front, is that favourite resort of the fair sex, the drapery establishment of the Messrs. McLellan. A few yards farther up the street, our eye rests on the gabled faÇade, and handsome shop front of Mr. Bolland, Confectioner, Bride Cake Manufacturer to her Majesty the Queen. What! you are about to get married, are you? Well then, “a word to the wise is sufficient for them,”—give an order to Mr. Bolland for a Chester Bride Cake, and tell him it must be of the quality once supplied to Queen Victoria, and you’ll never forget this “sweet and luscious reminiscence” of your approaching wedding-day.

Eastgate Row—Mr. Bolland, Confectioner

Eastgate Street, North Side

You will perceive that there is a covered Row also on the other side of this street, similar in character, though not in adornment, to the one we have just been noticing. This is popularly known as the Pepper Alley Row, a quaint but gloomy looking region, rendered still more so by the projecting block of buildings displayed in our engraving. Here are the well known drapery establishments of Messrs. Oakes, and Ambrose Williams, and that curious old zigzag erection, occupied by Mr. Hill, Chester’s enterprising boot-maker: behind which premises Pepper Alley Row “worms its darksome way” into Northgate Street. In this Row are the rooms of the Church of England Educational Institute, and the Chester Excise Office.

On the ground floor of Messrs. Prichard and Dodd’s carpet warehouse in Eastgate Street, there is a curious and interesting old crypt, erected, it is supposed, in the eighth century, an illustration of which will be found in our advertising sheet.

We are now fairly arrived at the High Cross, and close to the spot where that sacred emblem of the faith in old time stood. This ancient landmark, which was of stone, and elaborately carved, had for centuries ornamented this part of the city, and was a relic much and deservedly prized by the citizens. The Puritans, however, on obtaining possession of the city in 1646, with their characteristic abhorrence of the beautiful, and in direct breach of the articles of surrender, demolished this “fayre crosse.” “No cross, no crown” was, in a perverted sense, the motto of these fanatics, whose “organs of destructiveness” must, beyond doubt, have been largely developed. Some fragments of the Cross were picked up at the time, and hidden within the porch of St. Peter’s Church hard by, where a century or so afterwards they were discovered, and now ornament the grounds of Netherlegh House, near this city.

Near the Cross was the Conduit, to which water was of old brought in pipes to this city from St. Giles’ Well in Boughton, and this conduit it was that, according to ancient records, was made to “run with wine” on all public and festive occasions. Here also, upon the south side of St. Peter’s Church, was the Penthouse or Pentice of the city, where the mayor and magistrates of the old regime sat to administer justice with the one hand, and feed on turtle with the other. A lean alderman was as great a curiosity in those days, as a fat parish pauper would be deemed in the present. The Pentice, which, with its accessories the Stocks and the Pillory, had too long obstructed this quarter of the city, was pulled down in 1803, and its jurisdiction removed to a more commodious room in the north end of the Exchange.

This locality, crowded as it must have been before the removal of these obstructions, was also annually the scene of the Corporation Bullbait, thus vividly described by Cowdroy, a local scribe of the last century: “The Cross is famous for being the annual scene of exhibition of that polite play called a bull-bait; where four or five of these horned heroes are attended by several hundred lovers of that rational amusement. Till within a few years the dramatis personÆ of this elegant scene included even magistracy itself, the mayor and corporation attending in their official habiliments, at the Pentice windows, not only to countenance the diversions of the ring, but to participate in a sight of its enjoyments. A proclamation was also made by the crier of the court, with all the gravity and solemnity of an oration before a Romish sacrifice; the elegant composition of which runs thus, ‘Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! If any man stands within twenty yards of the bull-ring, let him take—what comes.’ After which followed the usual public ejaculations, for the safety of the king, and the mayor of the city;” when the beauties of the scene commenced, and the dogs immediately fell to. Here a prayer for his worship was not unseasonable, as even the ermined cloak was no security against the carcases of dead animals, with which spectators, without distinction, were occasionally saluted. In many ancient boroughs a law formerly prevailed, that no bulls should be slaughtered for food without having been first thus baited by dogs. They loved tender beefsteaks in those days!

This barbarous recreation of a bygone age has long since been put down by the strong arm of the law, and we can now from the very spot study the character of yonder Row, which commanded in those days so near a view of the revolting spectacle.

The ancient and the modern in domestic architecture here stand forth in curious juxtaposition. To the left rests a building of venerable mien, the builder of which flourished probably in the sixteenth century, when Harry the Eighth or Elizabeth swayed the sceptre of England, and when wood and plaster was the chief ingredient in houses of this description.

In the centre of our view, looking affably down on its two-gabled neighbour, is a bold and substantial building of white freestone, erected in 1837, on the site of an older and more picturesque house. This is the business retreat of our publisher, and by the same token the oldest book establishment in the city. Here are procurable, in almost endless variety, Guides to Chester and North Wales, local prints, books of views, &c. to suit every imaginable taste and requirement. Perhaps no city in the empire has been so fully and faithfully illustrated as Chester,—Prout, Cuitt, Pickering, Sumners, and others equally celebrated in the walks of art, have plied their pencils in its honour, while the genius of the engraver and the enterprise of the publisher have given permanence to their works.

The other house depicted upon the right of our view, its front bearing the arms of the Apothecaries’ Company, is the well-known establishment of Mr. J. D. Farrer, Chemist. “Farrer’s Cestrian Bouquet” and “Floral Extract” are perfumes too well known to the fair Élite of Chester to need more than a passing notice here. Strangers and visitors, however, will thank us for the hint that these, and other like gems of the toilet, fragrant mementos of “rare old Chester,” are “prepared and sold only by Mr. Farrer.”

East Gate Row

Opposite to these premises stands the parish Church of St. Peter, the site of which is supposed to have been also that of the Roman Proetorium. Tradition ascribes the first building of this church to that Mercian celebrity, the Countess Ethelfleda, who raised an edifice in the centre of the city to the mutual honour of St. Peter and St. Paul. These two saints had, up to that time, presided over the destinies of the mother church of Chester, now the Cathedral, but a ‘new light’ having sprung up in the person of the virgin-wife, St. Werburgh, the two aforesaid apostles were relieved of their charge, and a new Church erected and dedicated to them on the spot we are now surveying. Bradshaw the monk, from whose quaint historic poem we have already quoted, thus records the translation:—

And the olde churche of Peter and of Paule
By a generall counsell of the spiritualte,
With helpe of the Duke moost principall,
Was translate to the myddes of the sayd cite,
Where a paresshe churche was edified truele
In honour of the aforesaid apostoles twayne,
Whiche shall for ever by grace divine remayne.

St. Paul’s connection with the church appears to have ceased before the Conquest, since which time the edifice has been once or twice rebuilt. The spire is recorded to have been re-edified in 1479, in which year the parson of the parish, with his officers, ate a goose upon the top, and cast the well-picked bones into the four streets below. The ecclesiastics of those days were a jovial crew,—none of your lean, skewery-built men, like their degenerate types of the present day,—but priests of size and substance; men who quaffed their wine and sack right merrily; and who evidently looked after the spirits of their flocks more than after their souls. Must not those have been “good old times!” The east and part of the south sides of the church were rebuilt in 1640, just before the breaking out of the great Civil War. The “parson and goose spire” having been injured by lightning in 1780, was that same year removed. The present square steeple was rebuilt in 1813; and the illuminated clock which ornaments the south front was first publicly lit up in 1835. The interior of the church, which contains some venerable monuments, has of late years been considerably improved and beautified.