Watergate Street.—God’s Providence House.—Bishop Lloyd’s House.—The Puppet Show Explosion.—Trinity Church.—Dean Swift and the Yacht,—St. Martin’s and St. Bridget’s Churches.—The Stanley Palace.—Watergate.—Port of Chester.

Westward, ho! a few steps, and we find ourselves moving along Watergate Street; once, and when Chester was a thriving port, the chief street of the city. As with men, so

There is a tide in the affairs of streets,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

but the tide for Watergate Street has ebbed away, and now flows in other and more favoured channels. Still, as we shall presently see, this Street is not behind any of its neighbours in absorbing interest. You will perceive that, like Eastgate Street, it has the Cestrian characteristic on either side,—its high-level Row. The one upon the right hand, adjoining St. Peter’s Church, is, perhaps, as good a specimen as we have now left to us of the “Rows” of the last century. Had we the time to spare, a ramble along this Row, and a hole-and-corner visit to the numerous alleys that intersect it, would convince the most sceptical that there is more in Chester than meets the eye. But we must away,—for see! here is an odd-looking tenement, on the other side the street, inviting our attention. Two hundred years ago that house was in the pride of youth, and the residence of a family of “some rank and standing,” as is evidenced by the armorial bearings carved on one of the beams; but, as somebody or other (Longfellow, we believe), has justly enough observed, “it is not always May!”, in proof of which this house has of late years been occupied as a sausage shop, and now shelters the defenceless head of a barber. Small and low are the rooms of this house—absurdly so to the critic of the present generation; and so contracted is the ceiling of the Row at this point, that no man of ordinary stature can pass along without stooping. Is it not a quaint old spot? Look up at yon inscription on the cross-beam. Tradition avers that this house was the only one in the city that escaped the plague, which ravaged the city during the seventeenth century. In gratitude for that deliverance, the owner of the house is said to have carved upon the front the words we are now reading—

1652. God’s providence is mine inheritance. 1652.

God’s Providence House, Water Gate Street

On the right hand, lower down, is Goss Street; and still lower, Crook Street, both destitute of interest to sight-seers: but, exactly opposite to Crook Street, stand three fine gable-fronted houses, the centre one of which deserves our attention and admiration. This house is, without exception, the most curious and remarkable of its kind in Chester, and one which, perhaps, has no parallel in Great Britain. Prout has immortalised it in one of his inimitable sketches, of which the accompanying woodcut is a reduced, yet faithful copy. The origin of the house seems to be lost in fable; but, in the present day, it is usually styled Bishop Lloyd’s House, from the fact of that Cestrian prelate dying about the date (1615,) carved on one of the panels, and from certain coats-of-arms which decorate the front, bearing some analogy to the bearings of his family. Grotesquely carved from the apex of the gable to the very level of the Row, this house exhibits a profusion of ornament, and an eccentricity of design, unattempted in any structure of the kind within our knowledge. It is, indeed, a unique and magnificent work of art. To say nothing of the designs in the higher compartments, it must suffice here to state, that the subjects of the lower panels lay the plan of human redemption prominently before the eye. In the first panel, we have Adam and Eve in Paradise, in a state of sinless nudity; then comes the first great consequence of the Fall, Cain murdering Abel his brother. To this follows Abraham offering up his Son Isaac; typical of the “one great Sacrifice for us all.” The seventh compartment has a curious representation of the Immaculate Conception, whereby “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” Ridiculous have been some of the attempts of “Local Guide-makers” to arrive at the real meaning of this design: some have gravely set it down as the “Flight into Egypt;” while another and later “unfortunate” has sapiently pronounced it to be “Susannah and the Elders.” The eighth panel symbolises the completion of the great sacrifice, the Crucifixion of Christ, in Simeon’s prophecy to the Virgin,—“Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine own heart also.” The three centre compartments contain the arms of the reigning monarch, James I., England’s Solomon, as he was called,—the supposed arms and quarterings of Bishop Lloyd,—and a Latin inscription, with the date 1615. If it be true that

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,

then will this house, as a masterpiece of art, be an object of interest and delight to strangers, “till time itself shall be no more.” We should step up into the Row at this point, and scrutinise the indescribable forms of men and beasts which ornament and support the oaken pillars in front.

Bishop Lloyd’s House, Water Gate Row

A few steps lower down the Row is a passage or alley, communicating with Commonhall Street, called Puppet Show Entry. This passage is chiefly memorable as the scene of a most terrific explosion, which shook the city like an earthquake, on the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, November 5th, 1772. A large room in this passage was fitted up as a sort of Marionette Theatre,—a large audience had assembled,—the puppets were going through their strange evolutions,—when, by some appalling misfortune, eight hundred-weight of gunpowder lodged in a warehouse below suddenly blew up with a tremendous report, killing the showman and twenty-two others; eighty-three, besides, being more or less seriously injured. In remembrance of that fearful calamity, this alley has been ever since known as the Puppet Show Entry.

Where that new range of superior houses now stands, on the opposite side of the street, was, until very recently, a fine old mansion of wood and plaster, the city residence of the Mainwarings, a notable Cheshire family.

Just below we have, upon the left hand, Weaver Street, anciently St. Alban’s Lane, leading to the spot where the Church and Monastery of the White Friars in times past stood. Of this monastic establishment no vestige remains, except a portion of the western wall, which is still visible from Weaver Street. The spire of this Church, which was of noble dimensions, served mariners as a landmark in steering their vessels up to the Walls of Chester.

On the right side of Watergate Street is Trinity Street, in which is the oldest dissenting chapel in the city. It was erected in 1700, by the followers and friends of Matthew Henry, the nonconformist, a learned and earnest preacher of his day, and author of the celebrated “Commentary on the Holy Scriptures” which bears his name.

Passing Trinity Street, we arrive at the Parish Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the first foundation of which is lost in remote obscurity. So early as the year 1188, we find Walter, rector of this Church, witnessing a deed relating to the Church of Rostherne, in this county. Very little, if any, of the original Church now exists; the west side is, perhaps, the most ancient portion of the structure, as it at present stands. Prior to 1811, the steeple was surmounted by a handsome spire, which, proving on examination to be in a dilapidated state, was pulled down, and the present square tower substituted. The reason for this change is not very obvious; perhaps there may have been bickerings and dissensions in the vestry as to the relative cost of the two, and the authorities thought it best to give up the point, in order to make matters square. The advowson of the Church is vested in the Earl of Derby, having previously belonged to the Norman barony of Montalt, one of the titles created by Hugh Lupus, Earl of Chester.

The interior is worthy the inspection of the curious. Near the south-west entrance is the baptismal font, by the side of which lies the defaced effigy of a mail-clad knight, Sir John Whitmore by name, representative in the reign of Edward III. of the Whitmores of Thurstaston, a Cheshire family of knightly lineage and renown. This monument was discovered in 1853, under a pew at the south-west end; the face, hands, and knees, having been barbarously cut away, to suit the flooring of the pew. In its perfect state, the monument must have been one of the purest symmetry and beauty, and was evidently the work of an eminent sculptor, the Westmacott or Gibson of his day. The legend runs thus:—

Hic jacet Ioannes de Whitmore, qui obiit 3 kal. Octob. A.D. 1374.

A brass plate on the south side of the altar commemorates the burial of Matthew Henry, June 22nd, 1714. He who had during life been a rigid nonconformist, at the “last sad scene of all” conformed to the faith of his forefathers, and lies interred in the chancel of that parish in which he had so long ministered as a dissenter.

The bones of another celebrity “lie mouldering here,”—Dr. Parnell, the poet, Archdeacon of Clogher, who was buried in this Church, October 23, 1718. Other monuments of interest ornament (or shall we rather say deface?) the pillars and chancel walls. In one of the western windows are some remnants of ancient stained glass, and an obituary memorial, of chaste design, has of late years been put up in one of the small east windows of St. Patrick’s aisle.

A good view of Trinity Church is obtained from the end of Nicholas Street, just opposite to that ancient hostelry, the Yacht Inn. The Yacht is, without exception, the most picturesque and curious of all our Chester inns. Time was when it was the first hotel of the city, and even now, “grown grey with long and faithful service,” lacks nothing that can render it a fit home for the wayfarer, whom chance or design has brought to the old city. Americans, who lust after the ancient and venerable, and who delight in the rare timber houses of old England, will do well to select snug apartments at the Yacht, for its host, Mr. White, is the very impersonation of a true British Boniface. But the Yacht, apart altogether from the qualities of “mine host,” and his well-filled cellar of “Huxley’s Fine,” has other claims upon our attention. It was at this house, then in the zenith of its glory, that the eccentric and witty Dean Swift (who has not read his “Gulliver’s Travels?”) stayed, on one of his journeys into Ireland. The Dean, being of a convivial turn, invited the dignitaries of the Cathedral to a supper at the Yacht, but to his great mortification not one of them appeared. Disgusted at this return to his hospitality, the Dean scratched with his diamond ring on one of the windows of this house the following distich, not over complimentary to the church or the city,—

Rotten without and mouldering within,
This place and its clergy are both near akin!

So much for the Yacht. The Custom House, immediately opposite, with its low stuccoed front, has nothing to arrest the special notice of visitors.

Trinity Church, Yacht Inn, and Custom House

Nicholas Street, which branches off in a direct line towards the Castle, has on the right hand a terrace of well-built, first-class houses, extending as far as the corner of Grey Friars. From the circumstance of every alternate house in this terrace being occupied by a doctor, it has latterly acquired the appropriate cognomen of Pill-box Promenade!

Some distance up Nicholas Street, on the left hand, is St. Martin’s Church, a humble brick building, erected in 1721, in the place of an older structure dating back to the thirteenth century. St. Martin’s parish has recently been united to that of St. Bridget, and the services of this Church are now, in consequence, discontinued.

Moving along St. Martin’s Ash, as this locality is termed, past Cuppin Street, where the Old Gas Works are situate, we obtain a good front view of the new Church of St. Bridget. This Church, or rather its predecessor, stood originally at the other end of Grosvenor Street, immediately opposite to St. Michael’s Church, and its foundation has been by some ascribed to Offa, King of Mercia, in the eighth century. Be this as it may, there are records preserved which establish its existence at least as early as the year 1200. On the erection of the Grosvenor Bridge, it was found that this Church stood exactly in the track of the projected New Road, now called Grosvenor Street, and an act of parliament was consequently obtained for its removal. The old Church was demolished in 1827, and the grave-stones and bodies removed, where practicable, to the new burial-ground adjoining the present Church. The first stone of the new edifice was laid October 12, 1827, by Dr. C. J. Blomfield, the present Bishop of London, who at that time presided over the see of Chester. This structure presents outwardly none of the characteristics of a Christian Church; and might easily be mistaken for some pagan temple, rather than for one dedicated to the worship of the Most High.

Returning to Watergate Street, we see before us Linen Hall Street, called formerly Lower Lane, from its being at one time the last street on this side of the city. There is nothing to interest us in this street, which terminates with St. Martin’s in the Fields, at the rear of the Gaol, and General Infirmary. So late as the sixteenth century, there was at the further end of this street an ancient Church, quoted in old deeds as the Church of St. Chad, but the place thereof is now nowhere to be found.

Lower still down Watergate Street, is Linen Hall Place, where the Chester Chess Club holds its meetings, and where players of every country and clime are sure of a hearty and welcome reception.

Nearly opposite to this Place, up a narrow, inconvenient passage, is a house which invites and eminently deserves our notice and admiration. This house is styled indifferently the Old Palace, and Stanley House, from its having been originally the city palace or residence of the Stanleys of Alderley, a family of note in the county, and now ennobled. This is an elaborately carved, three-gabled house, and is perhaps the oldest unmutilated specimen of a timber house remaining in the city, the date of its erection being carved on the front,—1591. The sombre dignity of its exterior pervades also the internal construction of this house,—the large rooms, the panelled walls, the oaken floors, the massive staircase, all pointing it out as the abode of aristocracy in the olden time.

The Old Palace, or Stanley House

From hence to the Watergate is little more than a stone’s throw; but on the left is the handsome city residence of H. Potts, Esq., representative of a family long and honourably connected with the county. This house and the locality round occupy the site of the ancient Monastery of the Black Friars, where the black-cowled faithful ‘fasted and prayed’ down to the period of the Dissolution, but of which scarcely any traces, save the fragment of a wall, are now discernible.

The passage to the right leads to Stanley Place, near which, in 1779, a Roman Hypocaust, and the remains of a house, also of the same remote period, were discovered. Such portions of these remains as escaped the ruthless pickaxes of the workmen, were removed to Oulton Park, and now ornament the museum of its present worthy owner, Sir P. Grey Egerton, Bart., M.P. for the county.

Beyond the Watergate are Paradise Row, overlooking the Roodeye,—and the two Crane Streets; beyond which we are introduced to that fabulous existence of modern days,—the Port of Chester. Time was when we might have tuned our harps to a different key, but now, alas! we can only lament the fallen condition of our ancient port, and the wretched indifference of those ‘high in authority,’ who by their senseless apathy in past days have brought the maritime trade of Chester to its present lifeless and ignominious state. This is a sore subject; so we will at once retrace our steps to the Cross, and in the next chapter continue our perambulations through the city.